This story can be read on its own though it is a part in a series of stories, which began with Use It Wisely, followed by Let the Games Begin, Mercurial and An Understanding.
~*~*~ --- scene break
\/\/\/\/ --- Flashback Start
/\/\/\/\ --- Flashback End
Timeline: Fifth Year
Moste Potente I
Written by Lynn
I shouldn't be here. Harry swallowed hard; his throat felt bruised by the hasty gulp. It did little to placate the tight knot of tension in his stomach; his arm seemed as though it was made of heavy lead. He could barely lift his hand to the doorknob. He flinched when his fingertips encountered its cool metal finish.
If it's locked, you're leaving, he told himself, managing to sound stern in his own head. He quailed when the knob turned easily; his muscles clenched. His arm refused to push the door open yet he couldn't command his hand to let go of the handle.
Idiot! His common sense screamed at him. Leave! Leave before it's too late- The doorknob was suddenly wrenched from his hand for someone on the other side had pulled the door open. Harry turned to ice when he saw it was Snape who had opened it.
Who else could it be?! But he barely heard the irritated little voice in his head. His mind had turned sluggish as Harry's wide eyes took in the tall spare form of the Potions Master.
Billowing black as a starless night robes shrouded Snape from his neck all the way down to boot-clad feet. However, the professor's sedate wear only fueled Harry's imagination and forcibly recalled memories, which had been flashing over and over again these past days regardless if he wanted to remember or not. More than a month ago, unforeseen circumstances had forced Harry to spend the night in Snape's quarters. By itself, the situation would have been intolerable had he not been in his Invisibility Cloak. Draco had been present as well, and Harry learned more than he wanted to know about the other boy's relationship with the Potions Master.
Harry had seen Snape naked as sin and making love to Draco Malfoy-
-who was sobbing softly, mewling like a puppy. He turned his head restlessly on the pillow, damp with sweat. His face glistened with exhaustion, mouth parted and rasping with hurried gulps of air. His gray eyes were flat, stunned, staring without seeing at Snape, who was lowering Draco's ankles from his shoulders.
Harry watched as the quiet satisfaction on the older wizard's face turned into anticipation. "Turn over, Draco," he commanded lightly.
"... What?" Bewilderment brought life and recognition back into Draco's eyes. He tried to sit up and succeeded only on his second attempt. Harry noticed the considerable difference between the other boy's body and Snape's. Draco seemed as though he was made of porcelain. Slender, pale, his muscles were toned but slight. Vulnerable when compared to Snape's lean and powerful physique. He could break Draco's bones, Harry realized with disquiet though he had seen and witnessed enough to be certain that the professor would never hurt Draco.
Snape began to tease Draco, reassuring, encouraging him. Kisses again. Harry felt his mouth go dry as Snape tilted Draco's chin up and aside, allowing him easier access to the boy's mouth. Draco moaned, the sound was helpless and wanting, as Snape kissed him deeply in what Harry could only assume was a kiss with tongue or a French kiss, something which he had first heard about from Dudley, of all people, last summer.
Harry had been revolted by his cousin's unwanted descriptions of the kisses he bragged he had had with girls. Overhearing Dudley's explanation to Piers of what a French kiss was brought about a very unwelcome picture of Dudley kissing a girl. It was an image, which was nearly enough to make Harry never want to experience kissing. The first time he had seen Draco kiss Snape caused a similar reaction.
But not this time. This time, he didn't even want to look away as he had before. Harry couldn't stop staring this time. He heard the softest sigh when their lips separated for air; Harry didn't know he had made it, and he forgot about it when Draco uttered a desperate noise and began kissing Snape again. His arms wound around the professor's neck, his hands and fingers running through the wizard's hair, fondling, rubbing as though the strands were soft as down and not greasy in the least. The latter gave Harry cause to wonder on whether or not Snape's hair was indeed oily to the touch as he had always assumed it would be.
The question left Harry's mind abruptly when warm hands settled on his shoulders, jarring him back to the present. He blinked, shocked by the physical contact; roiling darkness covered his sight entirely. Harry jumped when a dry amused voice whispered into his ear, "Aren't you going to come in, Mr. Malfoy?"
~*~*~
It had taken a great of deal of control not to kiss his young lover then and there in the hallway outside his room. Snape shook his head, amused and exasperated when Draco just stared at him. Head tilted up slightly, mouth parted in breathless wonder, those luminous gray eyes worshipping him. He was playing yet another game, Snape had thought immediately, finding himself entertained as always by Draco's multitude of attempts to tempt him. This method would have been successful had Draco waited after he was inside the room before proceeding to stare at Snape like a love-struck teenager, pretending to be dazed in his very presence.
What an excellent actor he is, thought Snape as Draco stumbled, preceding him into his room. He appeared very awkward. Even his legs trembled when he turned around to watch as Snape shut the door. Again, Snape shook his head, impressed by Draco's fine pretense. He looked away from the boy for a few moments, turning his eyes to the doorknob, which he locked before sliding the deadbolt in place. He missed the utter panic that raged across Draco's face before it was forced to subside. When he looked back at Draco, the boy was regarding him calmly, and Snape mused, Did he truly expect I wouldn't punish him?
~*~*~
His heart was hammering wildly, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, the intelligent part of Harry J. Potter was saying in too soft a voice that he should leave now!
But he couldn't move; his chest felt tight. His breathing sounded harsh in his ears. His eyes were fixed on the hollow of Snape's throat. He could see the faint pulsing beneath waxen skin; his eyes lifting, following it as wizard drew nearer. Harry felt dry warmth touch his face and jerked, only then realizing how close Snape was standing to him, his left hand was on Harry's right cheek.
As he fought to keep calm as that hand slipped down, agile fingers pressing on the sensitive flesh underneath Harry's jaw. He couldn't resist when his head was tilted up; he had only scant moments to draw in a panicked gulp of air before Snape's mouth settled over his.
His first kiss. Harry nearly choked as another's lips glided slowly leisurely over his trembling ones. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced his nerves to settle. In the next instant, his eyes snapped open, fearful that Snape might have seen his alarm. When he saw that the professor's eyes were closed, his face relaxed in sleepy repose, Harry felt a bit calmer, however he barely suppressed a surprised yelp when Snape's right hand settled on the small of his back. He almost tore his mouth away when that same hand drifted lower and pushed Harry forward. He stumbled, freezing when he fell against Snape.
Instinctively, his hands rose, palms bracing their owner away and against the nearest solid object, which was the Potions Master's chest. Harry felt as though he was about to go mad when he heard and felt Snape's low laugh against his lips. He couldn't meet the half-lidded dark eyes that gleamed with amusement. Harry almost drew away when Snape straightened, ending their kiss. Both their hands, dropping to their respective sides. For a while, they just stood close to each other. Harry's head was bowed as the boy fought to control himself. Snape had also tilted his head down, watching him, noting the small shudders that racked his slender frame.
He never did like losing control of himself even if he is the one who initiates, thought Snape, his musing sounding quiet in his own mind. He ran his fingers through Draco's silky hair. There was the slightest of jerks. Draco had flinched at his touch, and again, Snape regretted his having giving in to the boy's demands.
I should have forced both of us to be patient, he thought with a mental sigh and wondered if it was possible to end their relationship cleanly or at least wait until Draco was older.
It is up to him, decided Snape, lowering his hand before moving away from Draco to go to his desk where he had prepared the boy's punishment.
"Tonight, you will draw a herb chart," he declared in his most no-nonsense tone of voice.
After a few moments, behind him came a faint, "What?" Snape turned to find Draco, head lifted, staring at him with bewilderment.
"It's your punishment, Draco," Snape said in a very dry tone as an answer to Draco's single-syllable query.
"For what?" the boy asked, still puzzled and increasingly so.
Snape almost berated him for feigning innocence. Instead, he decided to play along though his temper was being severely tested. Draco was never easy to deal with. "For that tasteless stunt you pulled on Potter in yesterday's Quidditch game," he said severely.
He found himself reluctantly admiring Draco's acting skills when instead of being smug about it as he should be, the boy's face turned cherry red with embarrassment instead. Snape narrowed his eyes at him, and Draco turned even more flustered.
He's suspicious of you! shouted Harry's good sense, jarring him to the realization that he wasn't acting the way Draco would when reminded of a mischievous and dangerous deed he had accomplished. Draco would certainly be not repentant for anything he had done even if it was his own father scolding him.
Draco's cheating in the Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Slytherin was one of the reasons why Harry was here, pretending to be Draco.
\/\/\/\/
For the first time, Harry wished Dumbledore hadn't given him his father's Invisibility Cloak. Though upon later reflection, he would have to admit that it had done more good than evil.
Evil. It was evil and insane to yearn for something that shouldn't be or dreaming of something that hadn't happened. A hard experienced mouth prying his lips open, large skilled hands roaming over him, touching, caressing. Harry shuddered, jerking his eyes open, waking up before the dream could go further. It was a nightmare, it had to be.
Angry frustrated tears blurred his already blurry eyes. Harry stared at the hazy dark canopy over his bed. It was dim in the dormitory he shared with Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean. The only light came from the windows. Soft starlight, there was no moon tonight. Harry could hear his friends' slow deep breathing, a few snorts muffled against pillows and sheets, low sleepy grumbles. None of them snored.
Harry, forget about it. His own will sounded tired in his head, as weary as its owner who hadn't had a decent night's rest for many days. He just couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen. Remembering was more accurate. Fantasizing was more truthful. When he began seeing himself with Snape, replacing Draco in troubled recollections, Harry knew he was lusting after the Potions Master.
Of all the people... Harry! He scolded himself furiously, but it was a futile attempt to regain sanity. He wanted to know. His curiosity had sharpened to a painful intensity until he just had to find out if it would be how he imagined it would feel. He wanted to know how it would feel to be in Draco's place, to have Snape make love to him.
Of all the things to be finally envious of about Draco... Harry swallowed his envy, forcing it down to lie as a cold twisting knot in his stomach. The professor treated Draco so differently than he did Harry. Everything was different, from the way he regarded Draco to the tone of voice he used when addressing the other boy. The fondness Harry saw gleam many times in the wizard's black eyes whenever Snape saw Draco, Harry now envied and resented.
Jealous. Harry would have laughed derisively at himself had he been alone. I'm jealous of Draco Malfoy... He coughed as the suppressed laugh caught in his throat instead. That is pathetic. Harry Potter jealous of Draco Malfoy, and because of Professor Severus Snape. What a field day the tabloids would have. Even respectable media would be interested.
With a tight groan, Harry rolled over and buried his face into his pillow. What was he thinking? There was no way he would ever know Snape that way. The professor could barely tolerate Harry's presence, much less hold a decent conversation with him.
He hates me. Has always hated me since first year, most likely had already started hating me before I came to Hogwarts. Probably on the day I was born. Because of my father who saved his life. Harry was suddenly angry. It wasn't fair of Snape to just hate him, because of James Potter.
Jaw clenching with resentment, Harry turned his face, pressing his cheek against the pillow, his eyes staring at the shadowed door leading out of the room.
~*~*~
"Harry?" Hermione had to repeat twice before Harry heard her. He gave her a quizzical look, pausing with one leg over the bench. He was about to leave the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
"You barely touched your dinner," Ron managed to say discernibly through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Hermione gave him a reprimanding look for talking while his mouth was full. Ron didn't notice or chose not to notice.
"I'm not very hungry," said Harry. Hermione turned a worried face to him. "You've not been very hungry lately," she said.
"You have gotten thinner, Harry" added Ginny, who had been listening in on their conversation. Like Hermione, she also looked concerned.
"I'm fine," Harry said hastily, wanting only to leave as quickly as possible. He was about to when George suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to his seat.
"Wha-" Fred started piling Harry's barely soiled plate with a roasted chicken drumstick, a slab of grilled sturgeon, stewed beef- His twin assisted, and quickly the mound of food on Harry's plate reached three inches high.
Harry protested, "I can't eat it all of this!" He tried to replace the portions in their respective serving dishes, but the twins interrupted him.
"Harry, Harry," George tsked wisely. "You should never waste any opportunity to eat a good solid and delicious meal." He grabbed another drumstick and stuck it into Harry's hand.
"But-" began Harry, breaking off when Fred lifted his hand in front of Harry's face. He was holding what appeared to be a large chocolate frosted brownie, wrapped in plastic.
"... What is that?" asked Harry, feeling dumb and thickheaded. George and Fred grinned simultaneously.
"We call them Polyjuice Pastries," said Fred in a low voice so that only Harry, George, Ron, Hermione and Ginny could hear.
"We'll have to change the name though," murmured George just as secretively. "You see..."
"It's sort of illegal to use Polyjuice," continued Fred.
"It's shameful what some people would use them for," said George with disdain.
"Indeed. Indeed." Fred shook his head. "You should hear the stories we've heard."
George said, "Wizards and witches Polyjuicing themselves just so that they could get into other people's robes."
"Shameful!" Fred declared, sounding very serious.
"And they usually get caught," muttered George, rolling his eyes.
"Well, the original potion does only last an hour," said Fred reflectively. "That's hardly enough time.
"And how long does your pastries last?" queried Ron with a raised eyebrow.
"Three hours." George beamed with pride. Fred chuckled and stuck the brownie into Harry's hand (the one that wasn't holding a drumstick).
"How did you do it?" Hermione's eyes gleamed with great interest, and Harry barely heard the discussion that followed. Something about the twins applying the Alcmena Algorithm while brewing the Polyjuice Potion.
"Alcmena Algorithm..." repeated Hermione thoughtfully. "Professor Vector mentioned about that in class. It extends magic by three times."
"Correct," said George. Fred added that it took them forever to figure out how to use the algorithm in a potion.
"This will be a bestseller," said Fred with pride, but George said that they couldn't bake many pastries since some of the ingredients were very hard to come by. It was also then that Harry found out that Ron and Hermione had given them the boomslang skin they had stolen from Snape's personal supply over a month ago on that night when Harry and his Invisibility Cloak had wound up in the Potion Master's bedroom.
"We weren't using it," Ron said by way of an explanation when he noticed the strange expression on Harry's face.
~*~*~
That night, again, in bed, Harry stared at the same canopy he had been sleeping under almost each night at Hogwarts. The other boys were already sleeping soundly in their beds while he was still wide-awake and restless though he was exhausted. Harry glanced at his nightstand where he had placed the Polyjuice Pastry the Weasley Twins had given to him. It was under a pile of folded clothes, which he would be wearing the next day.
Harry felt as though fate was teasing him. He'd just been handed an opportunity to fulfill that deep dark want that was making him miserable. Polyjuice into Draco... For a short time, he would be Draco Malfoy. Snape would think he was Draco.
Heat warmed Harry's cold cheeks as again his own imagination sought to embarrass him with lurid fantasies. Like a ghost materializing, Snape appeared, towering over him. The tender amused smile he reserved for Draco playing on his lips. As Draco had, Harry closed his eyes as the wizard bent down and kissed him.
It felt real, so real. He knew it wasn't and that it was so wrong. Yet, he wanted it to be real... He could feel the professor's weight pushing him against the bed-
No! He forced his eyes open, the imagined pressure on his lips vanished, and all Harry could see was the dark canopy above defined by shadows. Abruptly, he realized how loud his breathing was and quickly quieted himself. He listened carefully to the noises all around him and breathed an inward sigh of relief that Ron and the others were still sound asleep.
Harry stifled a shameful sob when he discovered he was aroused.
~*~*~
On Saturday, on a chilly November morning, the first Quidditch game of the season began. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Harry barely heard George's pep talk before the match started. In mid-air, facing Draco, Harry forced himself to pay attention as Madam Hooch opened the Quidditch chest to let the bludgers out and to set the Golden Snitch free.
The crowd's cheers and roaring sounded like faraway continuous thunder in his ears. Harry vaguely noticed the feral gleam in Draco's gray eyes. Harry was late in starting, jerking from his reverie when the opening whistle was sounded. The Quaffle was tossed high up, immediately snatched by Gryffindor Chaser Angelina.
Thankfully, his mind cleared as the game progressed, and Harry's Seeker instinct overruled all his thoughts and actions. His mind was mercifully blank of all but the need to find the Golden Snitch. His hands and legs automatically gripped and turned his Firebolt when necessary as he cruised in a zone higher above the rest of the players, who were fighting over the Quaffle. With ease, he evaded the bludgers that came his way, thinking of them as inconsequential. His focus was on the Snitch and partly on Draco who was seeking the same.
A gleam of fluttering gold caught his eyes. Harry urged his broom towards it the moment that Draco spotted the Snitch whizzing around Madam Hooch hovering on her broom in mid-field. Harry was a second ahead of Draco, the other boy just a broom's length behind. A bludger suddenly streaked passed Harry, just a whisker of missing his broom handle. He was distracted, his eyes flicking from the Snitch momentarily, but when he looked back, it was still there. There was an encompassing cry of disappointment that came from the Slytherins as Harry drew closer to the runaway Snitch, still ahead of Draco.
Then- Lee's Sonorous-magnified voice yelled, "Will you look at that?!" In the next moment, what appeared like a horizontal spinning top entered Harry's field of vision. He glanced aside and gasped.
Draco was doing Spiral Speeding, a dangerous maneuver where the flier held himself as flat to the broom handle as possible and turned, spinning, increasing the broom's speed marginally, enough for a Nimbus 2001 to overtake a Firebolt. It left the Quidditch player attempting it to become horribly dizzy.
And quickly enough, Draco halted the spin, his eyes were clenched close, he shook his head once before opening them. The maneuver had done its work. He was now abreast with Harry, and the Snitch was in hand's reach. He stuck out his hand and snarled with fury when Harry got it first.
"HARRY'S GOT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS BY- FOUL!"
Barely had his fingers closed over the wildly fluttering ball when sharp mind-numbing pain exploded in his stomach. Tears forced themselves from his eyes, Harry turned to Draco who had kicked his foot straight into Harry's unprotective stomach. The Snitch escaped from his listless fingers as black whirled around the edges of his vision. His other hand clenched once on the broomstick handle before losing its grip as Harry fell off his Firebolt.
/\/\/\/\
To be continued.
Moste Potente Notes:
Alcmena - In Greek mythology, daughter of Electryon (King of Mycenae), wife of Amphitryon, and mother (by Zeus) of Hercules. The legend is that at the conception of Hercules, Zeus (in the guise of Amphitryon), for additional pleasure with Alcmena, made the night the length of three ordinary nights.
Use It Wisely Notes: (late addition)
Vervain - Herba sacra. The "divine weed," said by the Romans to cure the bites of all rabid animals, to arrest the progress of venom, to cure the plague, to avert sorcery and witchcraft, to reconcile enemies, etc.
~*~*~ --- scene break
\/\/\/\/ --- Flashback Start
/\/\/\/\ --- Flashback End
Timeline: Fifth Year
Moste Potente I
Written by Lynn
I shouldn't be here. Harry swallowed hard; his throat felt bruised by the hasty gulp. It did little to placate the tight knot of tension in his stomach; his arm seemed as though it was made of heavy lead. He could barely lift his hand to the doorknob. He flinched when his fingertips encountered its cool metal finish.
If it's locked, you're leaving, he told himself, managing to sound stern in his own head. He quailed when the knob turned easily; his muscles clenched. His arm refused to push the door open yet he couldn't command his hand to let go of the handle.
Idiot! His common sense screamed at him. Leave! Leave before it's too late- The doorknob was suddenly wrenched from his hand for someone on the other side had pulled the door open. Harry turned to ice when he saw it was Snape who had opened it.
Who else could it be?! But he barely heard the irritated little voice in his head. His mind had turned sluggish as Harry's wide eyes took in the tall spare form of the Potions Master.
Billowing black as a starless night robes shrouded Snape from his neck all the way down to boot-clad feet. However, the professor's sedate wear only fueled Harry's imagination and forcibly recalled memories, which had been flashing over and over again these past days regardless if he wanted to remember or not. More than a month ago, unforeseen circumstances had forced Harry to spend the night in Snape's quarters. By itself, the situation would have been intolerable had he not been in his Invisibility Cloak. Draco had been present as well, and Harry learned more than he wanted to know about the other boy's relationship with the Potions Master.
Harry had seen Snape naked as sin and making love to Draco Malfoy-
-who was sobbing softly, mewling like a puppy. He turned his head restlessly on the pillow, damp with sweat. His face glistened with exhaustion, mouth parted and rasping with hurried gulps of air. His gray eyes were flat, stunned, staring without seeing at Snape, who was lowering Draco's ankles from his shoulders.
Harry watched as the quiet satisfaction on the older wizard's face turned into anticipation. "Turn over, Draco," he commanded lightly.
"... What?" Bewilderment brought life and recognition back into Draco's eyes. He tried to sit up and succeeded only on his second attempt. Harry noticed the considerable difference between the other boy's body and Snape's. Draco seemed as though he was made of porcelain. Slender, pale, his muscles were toned but slight. Vulnerable when compared to Snape's lean and powerful physique. He could break Draco's bones, Harry realized with disquiet though he had seen and witnessed enough to be certain that the professor would never hurt Draco.
Snape began to tease Draco, reassuring, encouraging him. Kisses again. Harry felt his mouth go dry as Snape tilted Draco's chin up and aside, allowing him easier access to the boy's mouth. Draco moaned, the sound was helpless and wanting, as Snape kissed him deeply in what Harry could only assume was a kiss with tongue or a French kiss, something which he had first heard about from Dudley, of all people, last summer.
Harry had been revolted by his cousin's unwanted descriptions of the kisses he bragged he had had with girls. Overhearing Dudley's explanation to Piers of what a French kiss was brought about a very unwelcome picture of Dudley kissing a girl. It was an image, which was nearly enough to make Harry never want to experience kissing. The first time he had seen Draco kiss Snape caused a similar reaction.
But not this time. This time, he didn't even want to look away as he had before. Harry couldn't stop staring this time. He heard the softest sigh when their lips separated for air; Harry didn't know he had made it, and he forgot about it when Draco uttered a desperate noise and began kissing Snape again. His arms wound around the professor's neck, his hands and fingers running through the wizard's hair, fondling, rubbing as though the strands were soft as down and not greasy in the least. The latter gave Harry cause to wonder on whether or not Snape's hair was indeed oily to the touch as he had always assumed it would be.
The question left Harry's mind abruptly when warm hands settled on his shoulders, jarring him back to the present. He blinked, shocked by the physical contact; roiling darkness covered his sight entirely. Harry jumped when a dry amused voice whispered into his ear, "Aren't you going to come in, Mr. Malfoy?"
~*~*~
It had taken a great of deal of control not to kiss his young lover then and there in the hallway outside his room. Snape shook his head, amused and exasperated when Draco just stared at him. Head tilted up slightly, mouth parted in breathless wonder, those luminous gray eyes worshipping him. He was playing yet another game, Snape had thought immediately, finding himself entertained as always by Draco's multitude of attempts to tempt him. This method would have been successful had Draco waited after he was inside the room before proceeding to stare at Snape like a love-struck teenager, pretending to be dazed in his very presence.
What an excellent actor he is, thought Snape as Draco stumbled, preceding him into his room. He appeared very awkward. Even his legs trembled when he turned around to watch as Snape shut the door. Again, Snape shook his head, impressed by Draco's fine pretense. He looked away from the boy for a few moments, turning his eyes to the doorknob, which he locked before sliding the deadbolt in place. He missed the utter panic that raged across Draco's face before it was forced to subside. When he looked back at Draco, the boy was regarding him calmly, and Snape mused, Did he truly expect I wouldn't punish him?
~*~*~
His heart was hammering wildly, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, the intelligent part of Harry J. Potter was saying in too soft a voice that he should leave now!
But he couldn't move; his chest felt tight. His breathing sounded harsh in his ears. His eyes were fixed on the hollow of Snape's throat. He could see the faint pulsing beneath waxen skin; his eyes lifting, following it as wizard drew nearer. Harry felt dry warmth touch his face and jerked, only then realizing how close Snape was standing to him, his left hand was on Harry's right cheek.
As he fought to keep calm as that hand slipped down, agile fingers pressing on the sensitive flesh underneath Harry's jaw. He couldn't resist when his head was tilted up; he had only scant moments to draw in a panicked gulp of air before Snape's mouth settled over his.
His first kiss. Harry nearly choked as another's lips glided slowly leisurely over his trembling ones. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced his nerves to settle. In the next instant, his eyes snapped open, fearful that Snape might have seen his alarm. When he saw that the professor's eyes were closed, his face relaxed in sleepy repose, Harry felt a bit calmer, however he barely suppressed a surprised yelp when Snape's right hand settled on the small of his back. He almost tore his mouth away when that same hand drifted lower and pushed Harry forward. He stumbled, freezing when he fell against Snape.
Instinctively, his hands rose, palms bracing their owner away and against the nearest solid object, which was the Potions Master's chest. Harry felt as though he was about to go mad when he heard and felt Snape's low laugh against his lips. He couldn't meet the half-lidded dark eyes that gleamed with amusement. Harry almost drew away when Snape straightened, ending their kiss. Both their hands, dropping to their respective sides. For a while, they just stood close to each other. Harry's head was bowed as the boy fought to control himself. Snape had also tilted his head down, watching him, noting the small shudders that racked his slender frame.
He never did like losing control of himself even if he is the one who initiates, thought Snape, his musing sounding quiet in his own mind. He ran his fingers through Draco's silky hair. There was the slightest of jerks. Draco had flinched at his touch, and again, Snape regretted his having giving in to the boy's demands.
I should have forced both of us to be patient, he thought with a mental sigh and wondered if it was possible to end their relationship cleanly or at least wait until Draco was older.
It is up to him, decided Snape, lowering his hand before moving away from Draco to go to his desk where he had prepared the boy's punishment.
"Tonight, you will draw a herb chart," he declared in his most no-nonsense tone of voice.
After a few moments, behind him came a faint, "What?" Snape turned to find Draco, head lifted, staring at him with bewilderment.
"It's your punishment, Draco," Snape said in a very dry tone as an answer to Draco's single-syllable query.
"For what?" the boy asked, still puzzled and increasingly so.
Snape almost berated him for feigning innocence. Instead, he decided to play along though his temper was being severely tested. Draco was never easy to deal with. "For that tasteless stunt you pulled on Potter in yesterday's Quidditch game," he said severely.
He found himself reluctantly admiring Draco's acting skills when instead of being smug about it as he should be, the boy's face turned cherry red with embarrassment instead. Snape narrowed his eyes at him, and Draco turned even more flustered.
He's suspicious of you! shouted Harry's good sense, jarring him to the realization that he wasn't acting the way Draco would when reminded of a mischievous and dangerous deed he had accomplished. Draco would certainly be not repentant for anything he had done even if it was his own father scolding him.
Draco's cheating in the Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Slytherin was one of the reasons why Harry was here, pretending to be Draco.
\/\/\/\/
For the first time, Harry wished Dumbledore hadn't given him his father's Invisibility Cloak. Though upon later reflection, he would have to admit that it had done more good than evil.
Evil. It was evil and insane to yearn for something that shouldn't be or dreaming of something that hadn't happened. A hard experienced mouth prying his lips open, large skilled hands roaming over him, touching, caressing. Harry shuddered, jerking his eyes open, waking up before the dream could go further. It was a nightmare, it had to be.
Angry frustrated tears blurred his already blurry eyes. Harry stared at the hazy dark canopy over his bed. It was dim in the dormitory he shared with Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean. The only light came from the windows. Soft starlight, there was no moon tonight. Harry could hear his friends' slow deep breathing, a few snorts muffled against pillows and sheets, low sleepy grumbles. None of them snored.
Harry, forget about it. His own will sounded tired in his head, as weary as its owner who hadn't had a decent night's rest for many days. He just couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen. Remembering was more accurate. Fantasizing was more truthful. When he began seeing himself with Snape, replacing Draco in troubled recollections, Harry knew he was lusting after the Potions Master.
Of all the people... Harry! He scolded himself furiously, but it was a futile attempt to regain sanity. He wanted to know. His curiosity had sharpened to a painful intensity until he just had to find out if it would be how he imagined it would feel. He wanted to know how it would feel to be in Draco's place, to have Snape make love to him.
Of all the things to be finally envious of about Draco... Harry swallowed his envy, forcing it down to lie as a cold twisting knot in his stomach. The professor treated Draco so differently than he did Harry. Everything was different, from the way he regarded Draco to the tone of voice he used when addressing the other boy. The fondness Harry saw gleam many times in the wizard's black eyes whenever Snape saw Draco, Harry now envied and resented.
Jealous. Harry would have laughed derisively at himself had he been alone. I'm jealous of Draco Malfoy... He coughed as the suppressed laugh caught in his throat instead. That is pathetic. Harry Potter jealous of Draco Malfoy, and because of Professor Severus Snape. What a field day the tabloids would have. Even respectable media would be interested.
With a tight groan, Harry rolled over and buried his face into his pillow. What was he thinking? There was no way he would ever know Snape that way. The professor could barely tolerate Harry's presence, much less hold a decent conversation with him.
He hates me. Has always hated me since first year, most likely had already started hating me before I came to Hogwarts. Probably on the day I was born. Because of my father who saved his life. Harry was suddenly angry. It wasn't fair of Snape to just hate him, because of James Potter.
Jaw clenching with resentment, Harry turned his face, pressing his cheek against the pillow, his eyes staring at the shadowed door leading out of the room.
~*~*~
"Harry?" Hermione had to repeat twice before Harry heard her. He gave her a quizzical look, pausing with one leg over the bench. He was about to leave the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
"You barely touched your dinner," Ron managed to say discernibly through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Hermione gave him a reprimanding look for talking while his mouth was full. Ron didn't notice or chose not to notice.
"I'm not very hungry," said Harry. Hermione turned a worried face to him. "You've not been very hungry lately," she said.
"You have gotten thinner, Harry" added Ginny, who had been listening in on their conversation. Like Hermione, she also looked concerned.
"I'm fine," Harry said hastily, wanting only to leave as quickly as possible. He was about to when George suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to his seat.
"Wha-" Fred started piling Harry's barely soiled plate with a roasted chicken drumstick, a slab of grilled sturgeon, stewed beef- His twin assisted, and quickly the mound of food on Harry's plate reached three inches high.
Harry protested, "I can't eat it all of this!" He tried to replace the portions in their respective serving dishes, but the twins interrupted him.
"Harry, Harry," George tsked wisely. "You should never waste any opportunity to eat a good solid and delicious meal." He grabbed another drumstick and stuck it into Harry's hand.
"But-" began Harry, breaking off when Fred lifted his hand in front of Harry's face. He was holding what appeared to be a large chocolate frosted brownie, wrapped in plastic.
"... What is that?" asked Harry, feeling dumb and thickheaded. George and Fred grinned simultaneously.
"We call them Polyjuice Pastries," said Fred in a low voice so that only Harry, George, Ron, Hermione and Ginny could hear.
"We'll have to change the name though," murmured George just as secretively. "You see..."
"It's sort of illegal to use Polyjuice," continued Fred.
"It's shameful what some people would use them for," said George with disdain.
"Indeed. Indeed." Fred shook his head. "You should hear the stories we've heard."
George said, "Wizards and witches Polyjuicing themselves just so that they could get into other people's robes."
"Shameful!" Fred declared, sounding very serious.
"And they usually get caught," muttered George, rolling his eyes.
"Well, the original potion does only last an hour," said Fred reflectively. "That's hardly enough time.
"And how long does your pastries last?" queried Ron with a raised eyebrow.
"Three hours." George beamed with pride. Fred chuckled and stuck the brownie into Harry's hand (the one that wasn't holding a drumstick).
"How did you do it?" Hermione's eyes gleamed with great interest, and Harry barely heard the discussion that followed. Something about the twins applying the Alcmena Algorithm while brewing the Polyjuice Potion.
"Alcmena Algorithm..." repeated Hermione thoughtfully. "Professor Vector mentioned about that in class. It extends magic by three times."
"Correct," said George. Fred added that it took them forever to figure out how to use the algorithm in a potion.
"This will be a bestseller," said Fred with pride, but George said that they couldn't bake many pastries since some of the ingredients were very hard to come by. It was also then that Harry found out that Ron and Hermione had given them the boomslang skin they had stolen from Snape's personal supply over a month ago on that night when Harry and his Invisibility Cloak had wound up in the Potion Master's bedroom.
"We weren't using it," Ron said by way of an explanation when he noticed the strange expression on Harry's face.
~*~*~
That night, again, in bed, Harry stared at the same canopy he had been sleeping under almost each night at Hogwarts. The other boys were already sleeping soundly in their beds while he was still wide-awake and restless though he was exhausted. Harry glanced at his nightstand where he had placed the Polyjuice Pastry the Weasley Twins had given to him. It was under a pile of folded clothes, which he would be wearing the next day.
Harry felt as though fate was teasing him. He'd just been handed an opportunity to fulfill that deep dark want that was making him miserable. Polyjuice into Draco... For a short time, he would be Draco Malfoy. Snape would think he was Draco.
Heat warmed Harry's cold cheeks as again his own imagination sought to embarrass him with lurid fantasies. Like a ghost materializing, Snape appeared, towering over him. The tender amused smile he reserved for Draco playing on his lips. As Draco had, Harry closed his eyes as the wizard bent down and kissed him.
It felt real, so real. He knew it wasn't and that it was so wrong. Yet, he wanted it to be real... He could feel the professor's weight pushing him against the bed-
No! He forced his eyes open, the imagined pressure on his lips vanished, and all Harry could see was the dark canopy above defined by shadows. Abruptly, he realized how loud his breathing was and quickly quieted himself. He listened carefully to the noises all around him and breathed an inward sigh of relief that Ron and the others were still sound asleep.
Harry stifled a shameful sob when he discovered he was aroused.
~*~*~
On Saturday, on a chilly November morning, the first Quidditch game of the season began. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Harry barely heard George's pep talk before the match started. In mid-air, facing Draco, Harry forced himself to pay attention as Madam Hooch opened the Quidditch chest to let the bludgers out and to set the Golden Snitch free.
The crowd's cheers and roaring sounded like faraway continuous thunder in his ears. Harry vaguely noticed the feral gleam in Draco's gray eyes. Harry was late in starting, jerking from his reverie when the opening whistle was sounded. The Quaffle was tossed high up, immediately snatched by Gryffindor Chaser Angelina.
Thankfully, his mind cleared as the game progressed, and Harry's Seeker instinct overruled all his thoughts and actions. His mind was mercifully blank of all but the need to find the Golden Snitch. His hands and legs automatically gripped and turned his Firebolt when necessary as he cruised in a zone higher above the rest of the players, who were fighting over the Quaffle. With ease, he evaded the bludgers that came his way, thinking of them as inconsequential. His focus was on the Snitch and partly on Draco who was seeking the same.
A gleam of fluttering gold caught his eyes. Harry urged his broom towards it the moment that Draco spotted the Snitch whizzing around Madam Hooch hovering on her broom in mid-field. Harry was a second ahead of Draco, the other boy just a broom's length behind. A bludger suddenly streaked passed Harry, just a whisker of missing his broom handle. He was distracted, his eyes flicking from the Snitch momentarily, but when he looked back, it was still there. There was an encompassing cry of disappointment that came from the Slytherins as Harry drew closer to the runaway Snitch, still ahead of Draco.
Then- Lee's Sonorous-magnified voice yelled, "Will you look at that?!" In the next moment, what appeared like a horizontal spinning top entered Harry's field of vision. He glanced aside and gasped.
Draco was doing Spiral Speeding, a dangerous maneuver where the flier held himself as flat to the broom handle as possible and turned, spinning, increasing the broom's speed marginally, enough for a Nimbus 2001 to overtake a Firebolt. It left the Quidditch player attempting it to become horribly dizzy.
And quickly enough, Draco halted the spin, his eyes were clenched close, he shook his head once before opening them. The maneuver had done its work. He was now abreast with Harry, and the Snitch was in hand's reach. He stuck out his hand and snarled with fury when Harry got it first.
"HARRY'S GOT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS BY- FOUL!"
Barely had his fingers closed over the wildly fluttering ball when sharp mind-numbing pain exploded in his stomach. Tears forced themselves from his eyes, Harry turned to Draco who had kicked his foot straight into Harry's unprotective stomach. The Snitch escaped from his listless fingers as black whirled around the edges of his vision. His other hand clenched once on the broomstick handle before losing its grip as Harry fell off his Firebolt.
/\/\/\/\
To be continued.
Moste Potente Notes:
Alcmena - In Greek mythology, daughter of Electryon (King of Mycenae), wife of Amphitryon, and mother (by Zeus) of Hercules. The legend is that at the conception of Hercules, Zeus (in the guise of Amphitryon), for additional pleasure with Alcmena, made the night the length of three ordinary nights.
Use It Wisely Notes: (late addition)
Vervain - Herba sacra. The "divine weed," said by the Romans to cure the bites of all rabid animals, to arrest the progress of venom, to cure the plague, to avert sorcery and witchcraft, to reconcile enemies, etc.