Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. Only the events in this story are my own.
"I'm here, Professor," said Harry. He frowned at the Potions Master who loomed large before him.
"Right in here, Potter," said Snape smoothly, holding the door open for the sixth-year student.
Harry walked into the stone room. He had never been in this section of the dungeons before; these were farther down the hallway in the bowels of Hogwarts. This tall room was so far below the school that it had no windows, and torches set at intervals at around the walls provided the only light.
The door scraped shut behind him, making Harry jump. He whirled around and saw Snape watching him maliciously.
"What's this all about?" Harry demanded. His voice echoed around the stone walls until it finally faded out. Nervous and angry, he stared at Professor Snape.
"Dissolving Potions. An essential part of your teaching," replied Snape, leering at his student. "Come over to the table, Potter."
Harry obeyed. A cauldron sat atop a table next to the wall; several bottles of nasty-looking liquids glinted in the torchlight. Highly disgusting potions ingredients, thought Harry contemptuously. What would Snape do with them?
Looking like nothing so much as a swooping bat, Snape glided over to the table and uncorked a vial of a black substance. Taking an experimental sniff, he drank it down. Harry grimaced; whatever it was, he was glad that he hadn't had to drink it.
Snape held out a vial of green. "Take this, Potter. It's growing late; this will keep the cold out of your bones while we brew the potion."
"I'd rather take the cold, Professor," said Harry rudely. Snape's eyes narrowed.
"Must I explain to Madam Pomfrey while you are lying in the hospital wing, too weak to move, that you refused to drink a simple Warming Brew? You will drink this, Potter, or fail your next Potions test."
Harry winced. Anger launched itself through him. Snape handed him the small vial, and Harry took it. Uncorking it, he smelled it carefully. Suppose it were poison?
A faint scent of flowers washed over him. Harry turned his back to the teacher and downed the potion, whose warmth spread pleasantly through his limbs.
Then a sharp tugging took hold within him. Something in his chest was pulling hard. Harry dropped the vial, which smashed on the cold stone floor, and sank to his knees.
Next to him, Snape gasped suddenly and seized the edge of the table to keep himself standing.
The pulling grew more insistent. Panting with discomfort, recoiling in pain, Harry looked up at Professor Snape.
In an instant, the tugging was gone, and Harry felt only warmth. Snape stared at him. "Oh, Merlin," the Potions Master murmured. "Oh, for all that -"
Harry rose slowly to his feet. "What is it, Professor?"
Snape turned away; Harry felt a slight pulling in his chest again. It subsided when Snape faced him once more.
"I do not know how -" he began. A reluctant frown creased his forehead. "Potter, we - we -"
Harry stepped nearer. The smell of flowers was in his nostrils. "Professor," he whispered. His voice seemed to be gone.
Snape stumbled back. "Get away, Potter," he said sharply. "We mustn't -"
Harry reached out, warmth spreading to his fingers. Snape moved away from him. "Stop, Potter," he gasped.
"Why? What happened?" The beautiful warmth was all through him. Harry smiled and moved toward Professor Snape, who stumbled back once more, knocking the cauldron off the table. It made an iron bang as it hit the floor and rolled slowly away down the dungeon.
"Harry, stop," Snape exclaimed weakly. He seemed to be walking backward in slow motion. His back touched the wall, and he flinched at the cold stone.
Harry could not stop; he wanted to touch Professor Snape. A lovely, flowery fragrance was compelling his mind. His hand moved out.
He laid his hand on Snape's right hand, which was up in defense. As they touched, the flowers rose up to engulf him, and he lurched into Snape's arms. The arms encircled him, drew him closer, pulled him through the crowd of hyacinths and tulips and daffodils to hold Harry's body tightly.
Snape's lips found his, and instantly they were kissing desperately, frantically as they held one another close. Harry felt Snape's hand slip into the front of his robes and under his shirt. As the man's left hand found Harry's nipples, so the right slid down the back of Harry's pants. The long white fingers pressed into him as Harry gave a huge shudder. He slipped his own hand into Snape's robes.
A distant crash sounded as the cauldron hit the far wall. Snape and Harry ignored it. With his left hand tangled in Snape's black hair, his lips glued to Snape's, Harry moaned. The older man's fingers pushed further into him, causing Harry to arch his back and to mutter incoherently into Snape's mouth.
It was Snape's turn to shudder as Harry's right hand found him; Harry ran his young fingers over Snape's member and pinched it lightly.
Snape withdrew his hands from Harry and pushed his student to the ground on his face. Harry lay trembling and shaking as Snape tore his own robes open and pulled Harry's up. With a gasp he descended upon Harry, forcing him open, entering him, drawing blood even as he screamed in orgasm.
As Snape withdrew, a panting Harry sat up and pulled Snape down lightly. He pulled Snape's robes up and entered him in the same way. As he pumped his hips up and down, moving ever inward, Snape's fingernails left marks on the stone floor.
When they had both come, Harry pulled out of Snape and sank down next to his professor. They kissed for several minutes, too weak to do anything else.
Suddenly, Snape sat up, looking horrified. "Dear Merlin!" he cried. "Do you know what we just did?"
A terrible line of realization coursed through Harry. "Was that - was that a Love Potion I drank?" he whispered.
"Apparently it was more than that," Snape said savagely. He was clenching his fists in helpless rage.
"A - a Sex Potion?" ventured Harry, sitting up as well. Snape shook his head.
"There's no such thing, surprisingly. But it may have been a Soul Potion. It makes the drinker's soul irrevocably bound to the soul of the other drinker."
"Why did you give it to me?" yelled Harry in sudden anger. "Do you realize how . . . how f-ed we are?"
"Do you think that I meant to bind myself to my student?" Snape hissed. "You think that I wanted to have sex with a sixteen-year-old boy? That I gave you that potion on purpose? Or that I drank the other half myself of my own accord? Do you honestly think, Potter, that I would have done that? Especially to a sixth-year Gryffindor who has no better head for Potions than a cow has for Quidditch?"
"Well, what are we supposed to do?" shouted Harry. "Are we bound forever, then?"
"It would seem so. There is no known antidote for a Soul Potion. It is ridiculously difficult to brew, and once consumed, it does last forever. At least until one of the parties involved dies, and then the other usually dies of a broken heart." Snape smiled without humor. "Yes, Potter, it would seem that we are bound forever. How we are to make it through your remaining year and a half at Hogwarts I do not want to know."
Harry groaned and lay back on the floor. "Ron and Hermione will kill me. A teacher! And the head of Slytherin House at that!"
Snape snorted. "And how do you think I will deal with all of this? The Dark Lord will not be pleased that his top spy is forever bound to the Boy Who Lived."
Fear tingled instantly within Harry. Would Voldemort be displeased?
The Potions Master looked around the dungeon; the magical torches would never burn out by themselves, but he had no idea how much time had passed since the beginning of Harry's detention. Hastily he stood, helping the boy up as well.
"You should return to your dormitory now, Potter," he said. "I will - I suppose that I will speak to Dumbledore. Something will be worked out."
Harry felt a sudden wave of longing. He held out his arms to Snape, who gladly reciprocated the embrace. "I'm sorry about all of this," he murmured as a tear coursed down his cheek.
Snape wiped the tear away gently, running his fingers over Harry's young face. "So am I," he responded. "But we will find a solution. I will find the person who brewed the Soul Potion, and that person will not escape punishment."
Sighing, Harry began to step away, but Snape drew him back. They shared a long kiss.
At last they separated, and Snape walked Harry to the door of the dungeon. "I'll clean up here," he said. "Do not tell anyone about us yet. I will speak to Dumbledore; perhaps he can suggest the best course of action. But until then, do not tell anyone, not even Ron and Hermione."
Harry touched Snape's long black hair and smiled fondly. "Don't worry, Professor," he said. "We'll work this out, and then we'll be happy."
A smile spread across Snape's usually sour face. "I would say that I'm happy already," he remarked, "but that would sound thoroughly ridiculous."
Harry laughed and kissed the older man. "That's okay. I really don't mind. I'm happy, too."
Again they kissed. Then Harry slipped at last out of the dungeon, leaving Snape to tidy up the mess of the failed potionmaking session.
