Secrets of a Mushroom Ring, a harry potter fanfic

Title: Secrets of a Mushroom Ring
Pairing/Threesome: Harry/Severus/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Fairy induced loose tongues. A bit of Animagi!bestiality. A bit of fluff and a bit of porn. EWE
Word count: 19,000
Summary: The Ministry needs Snape to stop the deadly spread of poisonous potions. Harry is hired to find him, and with aid from Draco, they stumble into a mess that forces them to realize their true desires.
Request: Singing, bondage, Parseltongue and Animagus aspects.
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.

"And as you can see, Miss Garfield—" His wand swished through the air and the teakettle glided into the shape of a grey pigeon. "—it is all in the lower arc of the wand movement. You must be smooth; stop treating the spell like you're threatening Mr. Artney with a Trelor Hex." The pigeon strutted across the desk, cooing and pecking at stray bits of parchment.

"Yes, Professor Malfoy," Yolanda Garfield said with a sharp nod. The third year focused the entirety of her attention on the second of her two assigned teakettles and flicked her wand at it. Just by the sharp snap of her wand, Draco knew that she'd end up with a chicken, or possibly a pumpkin.

The light of the hovering candles caught on the copper of the teakettle as it began to slowly slip into the shape of a feathered gourd.

"Hmm," Draco said, spelling the pigeon and gourd into their original teakettle shapes. "Try again, Miss Garfield."

"Yes, Professor Malfoy," she said as Draco moved by to examine his next student's progress.

A bang of the doors jerked his attention away from his explanation to Mr. Delaney that no, a pigeon shouldn't be copper-colored. The minute he saw the costume of Sartory's Flowers from Hogsmeade, Draco pulled himself to his full height and scowled at the cheery delivery woman.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," she said with a bright smile. "Delivery for you." She tipped her coral-dyed chauffeur's cap at him and performed a little curtsey.

"Miss Hathaway, please remove yourself and those—" he glowered "—carnations from my classroom. Their very presence will have disastrous effects on the ability of my students to perform their assigned tasks."

Ida Hathaway laughed, and then winked at him. Merlin, he hated it when she did that. "I've spelled them to keep their scent to themselves until your classes are finished for the day, Mr. Malfoy. They shouldn't even be a bother."

The entire room of third year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins watched as the delivery woman paraded through their midst, grinning at each upturned face until she arrived at Draco's desk. There, she set down the glass vase filled with the distasteful blooms, pulled off her cap and bowed with a rather fantastic flourish.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up to the ceiling in prayer. Please, don't let her sing.

With an extended inhale, Ida Hathaway began her rendition of "Fly Me To The Moon."

No matter how often he protested, she always fulfilled the entirety of her delivery contract. For some reason the woman was immune to the Laryngitis Curse and Silencing Charms, and her voice had even cut through a Deafening Hex he'd cast upon himself. Weeks ago he'd given up the fight to cut her choral antics short, and he stood by in resignation to weather through the onslaught and just hoped the torture ended soon.

"In other words, I love you," she finished, cap gripped to her chest, voice holding onto that 'you' until the last ounce of breath was squeezed from her lungs, and to Draco's horror, the class politely clapped.

"Stop that this instant," he ordered and they all fell silent. Well, except for Billy Montague. Draco could hear the Slytherin's stifled chuckle in the otherwise morgue-like silence of his classroom.

Then with another wide grin and wink, Ida Hathaway bowed a final bow, turned so sharply on her heel the tails of her jacket flared out, and marched out of the room, waving and nodding to the students as wing flaps echoed off the high ceiling above them.

As the door clicked close, Draco stood expectantly at the front of the class until the gaze of every one of his pupils was on him.

"Now, I expect to see pigeons, not pumpkins. Not teacups. Pigeons. It is all in the…"

Fucking hell. Rodger had to stop.

"Ron! Catch!"

A peanut sailed in a high arc through the air and landed in Ron's gaping mouth. With a grin, he smacked loudly on it, plucking another nut from a small cache in the palm of his hand. The half-full Planter's jar sat on the desk between them next to a small stack of papers and Harry's propped up feet.

"Nice one, Harry. Your turn."

Another peanut soared through the air to its doom.

Harry ducked his head to catch it and then gobbled up the nut. "Hmm. Good aim. So, umm. Ron. How's Ginny?" Harry asked as he focused on aiming another nut.

"Harry…" Ron's tone had that protective best friend whine to it.

"Oh, come on. It's been six months; I think I can ask after her once in a while." Harry threw the nut with too much force and it bounced off Ron's forehead. Ron stared at Harry, and with a shake of his head readied another nut. Focusing on Harry's mouth, he tossed the peanut.

"She's fine. She and Zabini are talking about moving in together." Harry had dipped to grab the latest volley, but stalled in mid-motion, his mouth open like a waiting hippopotamus. The nut had sailed over his shoulder and tinged against the painting of the Scottish highlands hanging behind him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley."

Harry's feet clumped against the floor as he straightened up in his chair. He hadn't even heard the door open. "Yes, Madison."

Madison Morley, his office assistant, stared reproachfully down at him through her small-lensed spectacles. "You have a client, Mr. Potter. Shall I inform him that you are engaged in enhancing your reaction speed to potentially dangerous situations and have him wait for your training to cease," she glared at Ron, "or shall I show him in?" Here she tilted her head and offered a surprisingly sweet smile. Harry knew better than to trust that smile. She'd used it on him to land the job when Harry had started his private investigation business three years ago. Though she was younger than Harry, he'd always felt liked a scolded toddler when she did that whole disapproving-spectacle-gaze-thing she did.

"No, show him in." He grabbed the jar and dumped his handful of nuts back into it, slamming the lid on tight. "Who is it, by the way?" Ron got to his feet, brushing nut detritus off his robes.

"Mr. Michael Rosenbloom, from the Office of the Minister's Affairs," she said with a smirk, and then walked out of his office.

Harry knew Rosenbloom; well, knew of him. He was a man whom Kingsley trusted, and had been assigned to assist with the trials at the end of the war. He was fair, and though Harry had only worked with him peripherally, he'd done his best to make sure that only those who deserved it were sent to Azkaban, and he'd been instrumental in clearing Snape's name postmortem.

"Ooh, Harry. Big league clients," Ron said appraisingly. "I best get back to the shop, let you earn that fat paycheck." Harry rolled his eyes and with a casual wave, Ron walked out right as the shorter man walked in.

"Mr. Rosenbloom," Harry said as he offered his hand. "Welcome to D.A. P.I."

Rosenbloom shook it firmly. "Mr. Potter. Thank you for meeting me without an appointment."

"No problem at all. Please, have a seat." Harry gestured to the chair that Ron had so recently vacated and hoped it wasn't covered in the thin skins of peanuts.

"Thank you." Rosenbloom sat and handed Harry a scroll case. Harry took it with a raised eyebrow. "I believe everything is explained on that scroll," Rosenbloom said.

After Rosenbloom had left, Harry immediately contacted Draco Malfoy and made an appointment to meet him the next day. Now, Harry stood outside of the Transfigurations Office, knocking.

He hadn't seen Draco in months, but after the war they'd come to some sort of warm camaraderie. They weren't friends, but they were far from enemies and he figured that Draco might be the first step to helping him fulfill Rosenbloom's contract.

And an unexpected contract at that.

Harry wondered if Draco had gotten pulled away on some pressing business and had to miss their meeting. After his knuckles began to go numb, Harry decided to step away and kill some time talking to McGonagall or Hooch, but then he heard yelling from behind the closed door.

Pressing his hand to the wood, Harry leaned close to the seam between the door and doorjamb. "Draco?" he called.

"…bloody… Idiotic." It suddenly seemed that all Harry could hear was cursing. "Damn it to hell!"

"Draco! You okay in there?" He knocked again; this time he put a bit more bang into it. "Draco!"

"…ing Merlin…"

"Draco, I'm coming in." He twisted the knob, pushed open the door, and almost fell in his rush to save Draco from… flowers?

Draco was attempting to blast a rather enthusiastic bunch of white roses from following him around his office. The man would run a few paces, turn and cast a spell. The hovering bouquet would swerve delicately out of the way and then move to float over him again, dusting him constantly with white petals, as he tried in vain to scurry out from under them once again.

"Fucking hell! Potter, come save me, damn you!"

Well, that wasn't something Harry had ever expected to hear. "What's going on?" he asked, as he tried to wrangle the bouquet from its determined perch over Draco's head.

"Stupid… Gah!" Draco dove under his desk, peeking out as the flowers held a position about a foot over the desktop.

"Are they gone?" he whispered.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "No." He proceeded to cast a series of spells on the roses, from a Deflating Charm to a Burdening Hex, but finally it was his Magic Disruption spell, a fair bit of magic if he did say so himself, that finally dropped the flowers with a dead 'thump' on the clean desktop.

A tag was wrapped around the stems and Harry couldn't help but read it.

"'Draco. My Heart and Soul. Please attend me for dinner on Friday, April 25th. All my love. Rodger Huxley.'" Rodger Huxley? "My heart and soul?" Harry stared down at Draco, who now had his face buried in his hands. Harry chuckled, then sing-songed, "Draco's got a boyfriend."

"Potter, you will shut up."

Draco slowly extricated himself from under the desk, and brushed at the knees of his trousers, carefully not meeting Harry's eyes. Some petals had settled onto his hair.

"So," he finally asked after his trousers met muster, "how did you single-handedly stop that nuisance from turning my life into a living hell?"

Draco looked up and one petal slid down to his shoulder.

"Well," Harry began, staring at the perfect curve of the rose petal. "I used the Disruption Spell."

Draco started, and the petal slid down the line of his shoulder and slowly fluttered to the ground to join its brethren under Draco's feet. "You've got that down, then, have you?"

Harry tore his eyes away from the crushed flower bits littering the floor. "Yes," he said, meeting Draco's gaze. He could tell Draco was surprised by the slight rounding of his eyes. "It took a while, though," he added, with a little grin. He'd worked hard on mastering that spell.

"Well, I will be the first to admit, I'm impressed." Draco turned away and Banished the evidence of the bouquet's existence. Even the faint scent of roses was gone.

They stood in awkward silence and Harry wasn't sure how they'd ended up there. "So, not so into this Rodger bloke then?" It took him a few seconds to realize the air was suddenly a few stone heavier. He'd never been one to avoid pointing out the elephant in the corner.

With a haughty toss of his fringe, Draco turned and faced Harry. "Not so much. So, now what was it that was so urgent you had to meet with me today, Harry?"

With a shake of his head, Harry pulled up a chair. Fine, if Draco didn't want to talk about it, Harry wasn't about to force it. He just hoped Draco didn't feel ill at ease because of the whole gay thing. Harry held no prejudices, and he'd had his own… interests back in school, so he kind of understood. At least Draco had someone who wanted him.

With a twinge of his heart, Harry adamantly pulled his thoughts away from anything roughly Ginny-flavored.

"Yeah," he began as Draco sat across from him. "Well, I was hoping you might be able to help me find Severus Snape."

Draco's lips dipped into a frown. "Severus? Last you told me he was lying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, most of his throat missing from a nasty snake bite."

Harry studied Draco. By the tilt of his head, and the fact that he solidly met Harry's own gaze, he knew that the blond was keeping some valuable information to himself. Harry sighed. He'd thought they'd moved beyond this.

"Yes, that is the last I saw of him. How about you?" he asked.

Harry had long ago filed away the fact that the fewer 'tells' Draco expressed was inversely proportional to the degree in which he wanted to give nothing away. Right now his old classmate sat still—if apparently relaxed—met Harry's eyes, and gave not one extra twitch or shrug away.

"I haven't seen him. How could I?" He raised his eyebrows. "Isn't he dead?"

"You seem awfully blasé about that, Draco."

"I wasn't there. There was nothing I could have done and I see no benefit to myself in worrying about what might have been done."

Just as the petals had fallen earlier, silence settled between them. Frustrated, Harry huffed. Then he sighed. He shifted in his chair and waited as Draco sat, casually resting one elbow on the arm of the chair.

"Draco, drop the act. You know something!"

"Let dead men lie," Draco said, his voice growing soft.

"But he's needed." Harry bounded to his feet and began pacing before Draco's desk, speaking as much with his hands as he did with his mouth. "Michael Rosenbloom asked that I seek him out because they'd discovered a sickness that appears to be spread by the use of Pepperup potion. They can't figure out if it is a bad supply of Pepperup, or if it's simply acting as a catalyst. They need Snape and his potions expertise. They've already got their best Potions Masters in the Ministry on it, but none of them have figured anything out."

Draco's gaze lost its confident hold of Harry's and slipped away, staring beyond Harry's shoulder to something far off, perhaps something dwelling in the long buried past. "What gives you the impression that Severus is even alive?" Draco drawled, his shoulders dropping in a slump.

"Well, Rosenbloom knows." Harry dug around in the pocket of his denims. "He gave me this."

He held out his hand and Draco reached out to take the small locket from him. It was crafted from silver and had a single moonstone imbedded in the front. With his fingernails, Draco pried the locket open and Harry leaned forward to get a good look at Draco's expression.

The jaw drop was more than he'd hoped for.

"Severus?" Draco's eyes squinted, then he leaned back against the chair. "A portrait?"

"Yes. The only portrait commissioned for Snape, that little one in the locket." Harry scowled; he thought it completely unfair. "Anyway, because he isn't dead, the portrait hasn't come awake yet. And plus," he said as he reached out with one finger and gently closed the lid. "See this stone?" He ran his fingertip over the cool moonstone. "It's charmed to glow whenever the locket is close to Snape himself. Apparently he had it made years ago and it was locked away in a vault at Gringotts. The Ministry opened the vault after his trial since he had no next of kin. That's where they found this."

"And a lot of other interesting things, I'm sure."

"Oh, no doubt. He wouldn't tell me what else was in there, though." Harry had asked, but Rosenbloom had remained tight-lipped. "Anyway, they had generalized Snape's location to the Lake District. They sent a pack of wizards and witches through there, but couldn't find him." Draco looked up and the two men shared a glance. "I was hoping you knew where he was."

"He—" Draco stopped and cleared his throat. "He didn't want to be bothered anymore."

Draco's voice was dull, and by Harry's same filing system, he knew that this knowledge affected Draco profoundly.

"But… he is alive, then?" Harry asked, perched eagerly on the edge of his chair.

Draco looked at Harry again. "Yes. He is alive. But he asked me to keep his whereabouts a secret. He doesn't want to be bothered, Harry."

"Come on, Draco! People's lives are at stake. This Pepperup problem could get out of hand; the sickness could progress into something epidemic. They've pulled all of the potions off the market for now. I can understand Snape's desire to be away from everyone, but all he has to do is come in, do this potions thing and then he can go back to his estranged hermitting."

Harry watched, fascinated as a flurry of emotions crossed Draco's face, so subtle that Harry was possibly unique in his ability to read the turmoil going through the professor's head. Finally, Draco nodded.

"Fine, Harry. I'll help you. I don't know exactly where he is, but I have an idea, and it is indeed in the Lake District." Harry let escape a sigh of relief. Not only would they save lives, but he would also be keeping his perfect missing persons track record. He chose not to let Draco in on that little bit of information, though.

"I'll have to go with you," Draco added, and Harry nodded.

"That's fine with me. When can you go?"

"I won't be free until Friday following my final class, then Hogwarts is shut down for the week-long Spring Holiday. I can escort you then."

Harry smirked. "But won't you miss your date?"

A dark cloud shadowed Draco's face. "Potter. Never mention anything about the flowers, that man, or the never to happen date. Is that clear?"

Laughing, Harry complied. "Fine, Draco. You got a deal. When should I be back here to get you then?"

"My last class ends at four o'clock. So five, if that works for you."

"Perfectly. See you then!" Harry said with a wave goodbye.

Draco brushed the hair out of his eyes, dislodging a lock that had stuck to his forehead due to the unhealthy amount of sweat that had beaded up there. He cast another Cleaning Charm on himself, but he still felt sticky and tired, and he was sick of tromping around in the forest.

A fat fly flew by and he zapped it with a crackle of magic. It fell like a pebble to the spongy earth below.

Malfoys were not made for tromping and forests and sweat.

"Harry, I'm tired. I'm going back to the inn."

"But… Draco, look at this!"

Draco turned to his right and sought out Harry. The man was squatting behind a venerable oak, had probably found another bug cocoon or pile of squirrel crap. This was day three of wandering around the national park and the moonstone had been glowing steadily since they'd arrived.

Lifting each foot up high to pass over bushes and low-growing creepers, he made his way to Harry. The lighting through the trees had been dim in the thicket they'd been investigating, but now Harry sat in a circle of light filtering through a window in the canopy created where a tree had fallen that winter.

He'd always thought Harry had been a bit on the cute side back in school, but after the Gryffindor had grown out of his gangly stage and told the world and their expectations to piss off, he'd changed. He wasn't exactly Draco's type, being straight and all, but he now had confidence and a cheeky wit when he tried. After his rollercoaster ride of love and heartbreak with Ginny Weasley that everyone and their fifth cousin knew about, thanks to The Daily Prophet, Draco knew that Harry had pulled away from anything resembling a relationship and he didn't blame him.

After being stalked by three different men in a row, ending with the profound catastrophe that was Huxley, Draco considered a break, too. Though a portion of him was terribly lonely. In part, he'd agreed to this trip with Harry because he didn't feel like being alone for the holiday. And sharing time with a sane—subjective diagnoses really, but after the last three dates he'd been on, Draco was feeling generous—fit man, even if straight, was better than reading dry Muggle literature or catching up on his correspondence.

Finally, he stood next to his hapless companion and looked down at what he was examining.

A fairy circle.

"Potter, be careful not to poke that," he said, as Harry's finger hovered inches away from a fat, spotted mushroom.

"Why?" Harry said, looking up at Draco. His eyes sparkled in the light.

Draco frowned, then shook his head. "Oh, you have fun fighting with fairies if you like. I choose not to." With that, Draco turned around and stomped back to where he'd left his pack containing all his food and a waterproof blanket. "I'll see you back at the inn." Everybody knew not to mess with a fairy ring.

Without another glance at Harry—and damn it, why did he look good all sweaty and grimy—Draco Disapparated.

And was sorely regretting that decision when Harry didn't return to their lodgings that night. Perhaps those raised by Muggles didn't know not to mess with the Fae.

Harry blinked against bright light. The brilliance lanced his eyes, piercing straight to his brain, and he groaned as a full-blown migraine settled in for the duration. With his first attempt to roll over a complete failure, Harry proceeded to rock his body, gaining momentum to finally flop over onto his side. And that was when he came face to face with the longest snake that he'd seen since Nagini.

He scrambled away, shocking his brain into greater heights of torture, and eyed the large reptile, blinking his blurry eyes several times to clear out the unshakable sleepiness. The snake didn't move.

It was six, maybe seven feet long, its body as thick as his calf, with a geometric design of black diamonds down its green back and sides. The first half of the creature was wound up like a length of rope and it was staring at Harry with black, beady eyes.

Well, at least Harry thought the snake was looking at him. It was hard to tell with snakes due to their lack of eyelids. For all Harry knew, the snake was sleeping. He stifled an urge to yawn.

And then the snake hissed at him.

Harry had thought that once he'd defeated Voldemort and had been freed from the taint of that evil man's soul, he'd lost the speech of snakes. But as he focused his tired mind on the hiss, the leisurely flicker of forked tongue, some of the sounds took shape into words

"Thhsss, ssshhhh, sooo cold … thhhsss."

"What?" Harry asked, as he pressed himself into a squatting position, ready to leap away if the snake should strike.

Of course, he realized, it wasn't a striking kind of snake. Still, he felt it prudent to be prepared. And then the yawn escaped.

The snake remained motionless and Harry sighed wearily. He was so tired, heavy, like he'd just finished a marathon. With resignation, he lay down on the ground again, his head resting on the cushion of his arm. His mind felt foggy and grey, his eyes like lead, and in this moment, somewhere in the middle of a forest with a snake watching over him, all seemed at peace.

Draco passed one final time over the lush area where he'd last seen Harry. The moss and spongy soil had already filled in, leaving little trace that he and Harry had been there just the previous day. He'd been searching for approximately 45 minutes and kept returning to that circle of mushrooms, one tilting a little inward, a small indent in the rounded top.

"Idiot," Draco muttered to the empty air. Then, with a heavy sigh, he began setting up a ritual that would outline the doorways into the realm of the Fae. He's wasn't the hero, why did he have to go to the rescue?

A complete sense of contentment washed over him, soaked into his bones. He was warm and snug, somebody's arms were wrapped tightly around him. It felt good. It'd been a long time since he'd slept with anyone… since he and Ginny…

He stiffened.

If this wasn't Ginny…

An image wrapped up in pale hair and long limbs fluttered to the surface of Harry's thoughts, but the thrill and uncertainty that accompanied such thoughts were banished by the oddest feeling of those arms contracting around him, tightening until his eyes popped open and he realized he was wrapped up in the embrace of a very large snake.

"Guh!"

He squirmed, wriggling left, then right, a twist to his hips, and finally he'd tugged his left arm free from the snake's confinement, and then dug out his wand from his right jeans' pocket.

"Thhh…" the snake said.

Harry stalled his poised Stunning Hex. "What did you say?" he asked.

"Thhsssooo warm. "

With an ever deepening furrow to his brow, Harry stared down at the thick body of the snake as its coils shifted, already burrowing its large head into the now open territory of his left armpit.

"Hhmmm, smells good. "

Now, that was all wrong.

As the blunt end of the snake's head pressed into his armpit, Harry jumped, a shiver just shy of a tickle coursing down the length of his arms and legs.

"Stop!"

The snake's undulating body stilled, then slowly the head emerged from the folds of Harry's shirt and it looked up at him, flickering the long, forked tongue through the air inches from Harry's nose.

"Why?"

Well that came out clear. Clear and sarcastic. Harry peered at the snake.

"Because," he stared down his nose at the snake, "you were tickling me."

The snake hissed at him, but for all its bluster and threat—or maybe it was just tasting the air—it didn't return its seeking nose to Harry's side. The heavy head lifted until the snake could look directly into Harry's eyes. Harry quickly looked away, suddenly unnerved by the intense, dark gaze.

The thick coils shifted, slithering the main bulk of the snake's body up Harry's torso another few inches, and then the snake seemed to settle in, resting its head on Harry's arm, going still.

Harry examined the top of the snake's head, the beautiful pattern of small diamonds morphing into rough ovals as they crossed over the nose of the reptile.

He wanted to talk to the snake some more, ask him where he had come from—because Harry had a feeling it was a male snake—why he'd chosen Harry to cuddle up to, but he captured his curiosity and pocketed it away for a more lively time. Right now he felt content enough to nap again.

With a shake to his head, Draco reinforced his Occlumency to ignore the insidious Fae Charm that was attempting to cast him into slumber. He was no Potter. And though he did cross into the realm of the Eternal Ones, he at least did it of his own accord—however stupid that was—instead of stumbling there like an ignorant troll.

Entering into the land of the fairies was not something to be done lightly, and though throughout his childhood Draco had read fairytale books about such places, he'd never traveled here before. Previous tourists to this magical place had described in vagaries how the Fae lands differed from the mundane lands of the British Isles; Draco wasn't completely prepared for what he'd walked into.

From forest he entered into forest, but this was a step sideways from the large leafy maples and the thick underbrush. It all looked strangely at odds, the light too brilliant, lending everything a brand new color tinged with a fluorescent hue. Shadows dancing across the forest floor seemed alive, not quite moving to the same cadence that the wind stirred the leaves. There was a crackle in the air that felt like the cusp from spring to summer—even the taste of it held promise.

A small bird that Draco didn't recognize hopped about in the underbrush, releasing a series of sharp piping sounds.

The next thing that caught his eyes as he stepped from beyond the mushroom ring's border was Harry, prone, and being slowly suffocated by a snake.

"Potter!" Draco cried out as he leapt to Harry's side, wand brandished as he catalogued which spell he wanted to use against the vicious python. Should he use a Slicing Spell, to cut those tight coils away from Harry's body, or just stun the beast and hope the effect would cause it to release the stupid oaf who'd gotten himself into such an imbecilic predicament?

Harry groaned and Draco stopped worrying about what spell would be best and cast a stunner, worried that a Slicing Spell might fillet the man beneath the snake.

The red flash zapped through the air and smacked into the snake, causing it to flinch, and then it slid from around Harry's torso, flopping to the ground in a dead 'thump.' As the last coil came to a rest on the spongy ground, Draco let loose a shiver.

The snake had to be longer than that boor Hagrid had been tall.

Stirring, Harry pressed himself up into a sitting position, his movement languid. Draco was certain that Harry had almost certainly expired from lack of oxygen, and he preened, just a little, at saving the other man's life.

"Potter, while I recognize the lifestyle of a private investigator is one of leisure and stagnation, I'd no idea that you were lax enough to let a giant snake sneak up on you!" His voice had grown from reasonable and disinterested, to something of an unmannerly screech, and so he quickly stopped speaking and swallowed, forcing himself to meet Harry's gaze.

"Draco! What the hell did you do to the snake?"

"What do you mean?" Wasn't it obvious? "I saved you." He pointed his hand at Harry, his index finger aimed at him accusingly.

"Saved me? It was just a snake."

Oh, this was too much. Draco dropped his arm and said, "Potter. Let me speak slowly for you…. That snake…was going…to eat you."

"Oh, no it wasn't." Harry leaned over the snake, running his fingertips along the rough hide. Draco's eyes tracked the motion, a little knot of envy growing in his gut. "He just wanted to get warm."

Draco's eyebrows rose. "And how would you know that? I didn't think you could speak to snakes anymore?" Was what the Dark Lord had done to him affecting Harry here? Draco took a step forward and examined Harry's eyes, seeking the soul within, but they were quickly rolled upward in exasperation.

"I know what you're thinking, and no, this has nothing to do with Voldemort." Then Harry paused, a sad expression flittering across his eyes as they lingered over the snake. "He wasn't going to hurt me."

Draco huffed. "Oh, don't be such a nancy girl, Potter. I didn't kill it. It's just stunned."

Harry's eyes narrowed to slits as he examined the snake. "So you say," he mused, then apparently he realized the snake still breathed, and his shoulders relaxed and he looked up at Draco, his greens eyes sparkling with relief. "I'm so glad." With a tilt of his head, Harry smiled, and all the breath suddenly left Draco's lungs.

It took only a moment for them to revive the monstrous snake and it was then that Draco became aware that his pocket had grown warm. The heat had slipped into unbearable without even his notice, and he quickly dug into his trousers to pull out the locket with Snape's portrait, the moonstone glowing white hot.

He dropped the necklace, fanning his hand through the air to cool the burnt skin. It landed on the earth with little noise, the only sound the whisper of the chain as the links brushed against each other.

The snake's long tongue tickled the air as it slid towards the necklace. Then it hissed, a long series of sibilant sounds, and Harry's jaw dropped, and Draco grew annoyed with the realization that he was missing something.

"What?"

The snake ceased its noise and Harry looked up at Draco through the fringe that covered up that infamous scar. "This snake... It's Snape!"

When the moonstone glowed and the snake began to sardonically berate them for bothering him in his well-earned retirement, Harry realized why the cadence of the words, the tone, the pacing—the voice for lack of a better description—sounded so familiar.

And now that the snake had embarked on a long diatribe about the majority of wizards' lack of mental faculties, all Harry had to do was imagine deep tones, a dark voice slow and sensuous, and his body began to react.

Oh Merlin, that was something he'd thought long dead and buried. He tried to think of Ginny, but a log jam blocked his windpipe at the attempt.

Snape. For some reason, this snake, in the Land of Fairy, was Snape.

"Harry… Potter!"

Harry looked up at Draco; his normally neat hair had escaped its impeccable style and a long lock now danced before his face. His grey eyes stared at him, sharp and annoyed.

"Harry, are you even listening?"

"What's wrong?" he asked, his face heating for a number of reasons, most concerning things he wasn't quite ready to confront.

"How do you know that's Severus?" Draco sounded perturbed... but under his haughty, snapped words, Harry could tell his friend was also excited. Relieved.

"I can talk to him, and—" Harry pointed at the locket and brilliant stone, bright as a miniature star, resting among the acorns and pine cones, "—I think that makes it fairly obvious."

Draco approached the head of the snake and looked down. With a quick tug, he hiked up the legs of his trousers so he could squat down next to the animal. "Severus? Is that really you?"

Snape flickered his tongue. "Of course it is. Can't you see that it is me?"

Harry shivered.

Draco waited, watching the snake do very little. "Stupid snake," he said as he pushed himself up to stand once again. He then studied the forest around them, searching the ground, mumbling. Finding the locket, he cast a spell over it and pocketed it once the glow dimmed.

"I cannot imagine how I got dragged into this folly." Draco swept back his fringe and huffed a sigh. "Oh yes. I listened to Potter. The wonder dunder himself. Brilliant me. Only a Muggle raised wizard would poke at a fairy ring." He attempted a glare, but Harry recognized it as affected and nothing backed by real annoyance. "Perfect, tempt the Fae, just what we need." Draco was actually worried.

Harry got to his feet, dusting off brown pine needles and clumps of dirt that clung to his clothing. "Draco, quit your muttering. You sound like a mad hermit when you do that." Draco glared harder, that lock of blond hair dancing over the tip of his nose, and Harry offered a smile. "Don't worry. Now that we've found Snape, we can go back."

A sick look crossed Draco's face.

"What?" Harry asked, reaching out for Draco in case he suddenly collapsed.

"Isn't it obvious, wonder dunder?" Snape hissed, his tone awash with a hint of the unimpressed professor.

"What's obvious?" he asked Snape, keeping his eyes on Draco.

"I have no idea how to get us back. You stumbled here and I tore open a one way portal. We need to find the Fae and get them to tell us how to return." Harry nodded, then stifled a yawn. "And Harry," Draco sounded put out, "you need to strengthen your Occlumency to counteract the Fae Charms of this place. You'll end up sleeping your life away if you succumb to their power."

"I find that lifestyle quite relaxing," said Snape.

"You have too much to do, Snape. You don't have time for naps," Harry said.

Draco brushed his hair out of his face once more and lifted his chin. "Would you quit talking with that snake, Harry? And to think, you make the poorly postulated assumption that I'm the mad one."

"Wait." Harry looked sharply up at Draco. "You can understand my words?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I? I learned this thing called language at a rather young age…"

Harry cut him off with a quiet snort and a slow shake of his head. "Normally, when I speak to a snake, it's in Parseltongue. Nobody but snakes can understand me."

Draco's eyebrows bunched together. "Well, you're not hissing."

Harry focused his attention back at Snape, his long body shifting as he slid across the duff and dried leaves towards Harry's foot. "You can talk to me, understand me?"

"Of course. And Draco. I understand you both perfectly, though your constant bickering is a bit wearing." The black tongue flicked as the forefront of Snape's body glided over the leather of Harry's shoe. You sound like a couple of old men who need to kiss and make up. Hmm, warmth." Snape tried to press his nose up the mouth of Harry's trouser leg.

"Oh, would you look-y here!"

"What are you babbling about, Snape? Oh, wait. Stop it! Don't climb up my leg!" The tongue tickled against the hairs on Harry's shin.

"Potter…" Draco began, warning laced throughout his tone.

"Come look, everyone."

Who had said that? Harry glanced up at Draco, only to be distracted again as Snape's head disappeared up his trousers.

"Is that wizardman having relations with the snakeman?"

The voice was high, tinny and full of amusement.

"Really? I want to see?"

"Snape, that tickles!" Harry hopped backwards on one foot, striving to avoid treading on the long body as he put equal effort into trying to extricate himself from that inquisitive tongue and shift of muscle.

"Harry!" Now Draco sounded frantic.

He let his attention be torn from the sensation of snakeskin brushing across his calf and finally looked over at Draco, who was staring up into the trees with a shocking look of horror, his wand gripped in a white-fingered hold. "What?" Harry asked, the feel of the snake's movements pushed aside by the force of Draco's expression.

Draco caught Harry's eye and gave a quick nod towards the boughs of the trees swaying above them, his pale hair falling clear of his face as he tilted his head back. "The Fae, Potter. We're surrounded by the Fae."

Harry pulled his eyes off Draco and scoured the trees for fairies. He imagined little people, with dragonfly wings and a penchant for nudity. At first, all he saw were layers of greens as the leaves shook in a breeze he didn't feel. Deep green, and emerald, even lighter shades that filtered the sunshine, casting the little hollow in an aura of wild mystery.

Then motion, quick and erratic, like a Snitch.

Fluttery sounds of wings, dry like peeling bark.

More laughter. Merry and slightly feral. Slightly malicious.

Then, a foot length from his nose, a fairy fluttered before him.

"Hello human," the little fairy said.

The fairy was male, or at least he didn't have breasts, though he wore a long skirt of spider silk. His hair was yellow and spiked up in a mad array. Instead of dragonfly wings, they were shaped more like oak leaves just turning into fall orange. And he was approximately eleven inches high.

Harry couldn't help it, he grinned in delight at the sight. "Hello."

"Don't talk to it, Potter!" Draco scolded. "If you talk to them, they'll just trick you into doing something you'll regret."

The little fairy turned from Harry and flittered over towards Draco.

With a chuckle, Harry said, "Oh, so they're all Slytherin?"

"Funny, ha ha," Draco muttered as he swatted at the buzzing fairy, who laughed and continued to dive bomb Draco's head like a territorial hummingbird. As he flew, Harry saw a little stream of yellow and red sparkles following him like a contrail.

Another fairy, green and goblin-like with a potato of a nose, darted down on latticework wings resembling the skeletons of elm leaves, and another, pink and dressed in a patchwork strip of cloth wrapped around her body with wings like long paddles of reed, joined the oak leaf fairy, flittering and buzzing next to Draco's ears and eyes.

"Away with you, little vermin. To think I thought you were cute when I was a child. Obviously, I was naïve and sweet natured in my youth." Draco lifted his wand, and Harry reached out to stop him.

"Draco, don't. They're just playing."

The air filled with the twittering of the fairies. "Yes, young dragon. We are just playing." Harry looked up at the trio; something about the tone of their words didn't ring true.

"Oh yes, like a cat with a mouse," Draco said, aiming his wand at the one who had just spoken. The little fairy was lifting up his gossamer skirt and shaking his hips—and other bits of anatomy—at Draco, which made the pale man go pink.

"Perhaps you should stop swatting at them, Draco," Harry suggested, agilely turning to avoid the burlesque show.

"Perhaps you should get your wand out, Harry, and help me deal with these little pests!"

"I think the uptightwizardman needs to relax," said the girl fairy dressed in a snood, the loud rattle of her wing beats almost drowning out her voice. "He keeps his words too trained."

"Yeah?" asked the green fairy. "I know just the thing. Let's do to him what we did to the slaveman."

Draco cast a spell, then another; the mischievous Fae dodged each one. Then, as the green fairy began racing around him, Draco ceased his assault and blindly stepped backwards. The fairy buzzed a hoop around Draco's head, over and over, at such speeds that soon Harry couldn't even track the movement of the Fae; all that was left was a green halo around Draco's head.

"What's going on?" Harry yelled. Fairies were flying, their soft voices overwhelmed by the flurry of their wings, and Draco had begun to blubber in ways that Harry thought had been bred out of the Malfoy genes generations ago. "Stop. Stop it!" Harry lifted his wand, but couldn't see a target. He had no idea what these Fae were doing, these wild ones.

"And him, too!" tittered the girl, as she darted for Harry.

"But we didn't do anything," he cried out, lifting up his hands to shield his face. "Leave us alone!"

"Time for you to act, manwizard. No more reacting."

Harry would have protested, would have insisted that he didn't just react. He'd told off the wizarding world and brushed away their expectations. He was his own man, self-employed, making his own decisions, but he found he couldn't speak. Words had become elusive things that his tongue couldn't remember how to form and suddenly he was surrounded by light, forcing his eyes to squint and finally close as his body began to float, lifting up like he was walking on the moon, a huge burden suddenly gone.

And then it all went black.

He was still in the forest with the slightly skewed lighting. He could smell the soil and cedar. Throbbing, the back of his head ached. And he was cold.

He opened his eyes and saw a purple butterfly make a lazy tour of the edges of the meadow. It would flap its oval wings, then sail through the air, teetering before it flapped again. It stopped to taste each tiny flower, only to take off again. With a sigh, Draco sat up and touched the back of his head, only to yank his fingers away from a large goose egg. He turned and looked down at the ground and saw a large, rounded stone. Lucky him. Of all the places to pass out, he had to land on a rock.

A groan to his left drew his attention to Harry, sprawled out on his face. His left arm looked painfully twisted and trapped underneath his stomach and his butt was tilted in a suggestive angle.

"Merlin that's a nice arse," Draco said, then suddenly clapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes darting around to see if anyone was near enough to hear what he'd just said.

Had he really just said that?

Harry groaned again, and Draco went to his side, lowering himself to his knees. He grabbed one shoulder and gently rolled the man over, careful of his arm.

"What happened?" Harry said, his voice rough and bleary. Draco helped him to sit up and Harry looked down at his elbow and began rubbing it, his face going stern.

"Is it broken?" Draco asked, finding he had to pull his hands off Harry's shoulders to keep from running them over Harry's arm, his elbow, potentially traveling to other, as yet undiscovered territory.

"Don't think so, just hurts." Then Harry looked away from his arm up at Draco, and suddenly he went pale.

"What? What is it?" Draco asked, alarmed, looking around to see if those blasted fairies had returned. Draco returned his gaze to Harry.

Moments passed and suddenly Harry snapped into motion, as if a Petrificus had just been released. "No—nothing. Just…." He brushed his right hand through his hair, looking away. Draco looked the same direction and saw the giant snake coiled up nearby. "Snape," Harry called out, apparently not planning on finishing that train of thought. "Do you know what those Fae did? I feel…funny."

"Really?" Draco asked, walking on his knees to position himself between Harry and the snake. "How do you feel? What do you mean funny?" Did Harry feel the same way he did? Or was it just his delirium in thinking the snake was Snape?

Harry shifted his attention between Draco and the snake. He was frowning in a way that suggested he was on the brink of understanding something, but didn't really approve of the answer he was reaching. Instead, he cast a minor healing spell on his arm.

Draco released a sigh and touched the bump on his head with his own wand. Then he ran a hand through his hair, straightening it. It fell into his eyes. He needed a haircut. Harry watched Draco's actions, the movement of his hand, the fall of his hair, and then slowly licked his lips.

Draco's throat went dry, and like a prize fighter knocked flat, his arm fell to his side.

"Like what you see, Harry?" Draco said, his voice honeyed and not at all what he had intended to ask. He'd intended to say something distracting, something miles away from things like 'hair' and 'lips' and especially 'liking'. Harry's eyes inched over the surface of Draco's face that now burned, and slowly, like an admission gained through torture, he nodded.

And Draco realized, nothing could ever be the same.

Then Draco's traitorous tongue began to frame something else inappropriate, and he prayed, begged, wished that he could just swallow those thoughts and their immediate transference into words and things could go back to normal, but the snake began hissing and luckily, the words 'then get over here' were downed out by Harry's annoyed, "I'm so glad you're amused."

"Are you still talking to that snake?" Draco was relieved to find he could control his words once more.

Harry turned to him, his eyes boring into Draco's as he spoke of things that had nothing to do with the tension in the air. Draco almost chuckled. When it came to the elephant, perhaps Harry wasn't so willing to point it out when it had to do with himself.

Harry continued to speak to the snake, and Draco let the one-sided argument settle to the back of his brain. What had the Fae done to him? It seemed some of his words had a force of personality all of their own. Bugger this, it just wasn't fair.

"They performed the same trickery on me," Snape said, though he had little animosity to his tone, which Harry found unexpected. Snape had been gliding over the littered earth towards Harry's feet again. Harry began to wonder if his old professor didn't have a foot fetish.

"Is that what trapped you as a snake?" Harry asked, striving to keep his wandering gaze off Draco by watching the shifting of light on the snake's scales, yet trying to not shiver every time that stupid snake hissed. He felt ready to burst apart.

"No, I chose this form. It came to me easily after the attack by Nagini." The tone was sardonic, but Harry could hear the trace of amusement.

So, he was in this form by choice? "You're an Animagus?"

Some critter rattled the branches in the trees above. "Obviously."

"Then why don't you return to human form, damn it, and talk to both of us?"

"Because, Potter. I choose not to. I am perfectly happy as a snake."

Dumfounded, Harry asked, "But why?"

"It is my choice. I hold great value to things of my own choosing."

"But Draco can't understand you," Harry said, a bit lamely. He tried to think of another more convincing reason, but then Snape interrupted his thoughts.

"He can if he would try. He's just denying the obvious. It has always been a bad habit of his." The tip of the snake's nose began prodding up along Harry's leg. "Like you, always trying to deny yourself. Here you don't have to deny yourself anything… if you don't wish it."

Harry stiffened. Not only because of what Snape had just told him, but because that was exactly how he was feeling. He wanted to do the things that he'd always held as inappropriate or unattainable. He wanted to be selfish.

But he couldn't. Somehow that just wasn't…right.

He felt the brush of the snake's skin against his sock. "Snape, please don't go up my trouser leg. I doubt you would even fit much past your head."

"But it's warm, and I enjoy your smell."

Harry felt the tickle of Snape's tongue along his leg and squealed.

"Harry, what's wrong with you now?" Draco asked, and Harry really couldn't even dignify that question with an answer.

A small grey bird with a white tail fluttered in front of Harry's face; the man stared at it with a goofy look on his face. He looked almost besotted, like a love-sick twelve-year-old who'd just seen Macy Maverick on stage for the first time, performing her patented hip thrust before the Weird Sisters began mocking it the following year.

Draco remembered that hip thrust.

He'd thought it the most erotic thing in the world, until he saw a man do it on the Muggle television and then Draco knew, knew what it was that he'd been misunderstanding about himself.

"So," Draco said, pulling Harry's attention away from the bird as it flittered from branch to branch, gleaning bugs out from under the scales of the bark. "You say that snake in your pants can turn back into human form anytime it wishes." At Harry's shocked look, Draco smirked. Things continued to flow out of his mouth, and sometimes he found it easier to hold in the really embarrassing things if he let a few of the more inconsequential comments escape. But the reactions he was getting from Harry were interesting.

Promising.

Then Draco shook his head. The man had whined over loosing that red-headed bint! He was probably just confused; being stuck here in Fairyland confused Draco as well. Nothing was as he was used to. Not even the air.

"He won't leave my trousers alone!" Harry's skin closely resembled the apple Draco was now munching on. They didn't have much food left in their packs, and between wanting to tell Harry how he planned to pin him down and lick him from head to toe and ogling his arse, Draco worried about their food and how they were going to get out of this place. They had tried the three spells Draco knew of to open the magical doors between realms, but none of them had worked as he had expected.

"Oh yes, and I can see you protesting." Draco gestured towards Harry with his heavily bitten apple.

"What else am I supposed to do? He complains of being cold." And amusingly, Harry's color deepened and Draco wondered what it was the man wasn't telling him. "Maybe you could convince him to change," Harry bolstered on. "Tell him you want to talk to him, or something."

From Harry's trouser leg, where the snake's head was lodged, came a hiss and Harry muttered, "Oh shut up."

"So, Harry. You want me to talk to this snake that you believe to be Severus, and cajole the poor beast into taking human form, just for your amusement." Draco took another bite and chewed.

The snake hissed again and Harry scowled as he turned away from his leg and looked up at Draco. "Yes, Draco. That would amuse me to no end." Then Harry shifted his weight and looked away. "Would you stop that?" he said in a low voice to the snake.

That was when Draco actually looked down at Harry's lap. Actually looked. And saw that Harry's shifting and blushing was not only because of the teasing Draco had delivered. Harry reached out and tried to push the snake back down his trouser leg, but Draco wasn't watching that. He was watching the noticeable bulge at Harry's crotch.

Draco was struck stupid by the implication. "Didn't know snakes were what did it for you, Potter," he said, his voice bitter. He tore his eyes away and willed his mouth to stop talking. "I thought it was red-heads, but maybe it's scaly beasts as well." Stop speaking! "If' I'd known that… " He slapped his hand over his mouth as the mumbled words continued a stream of self-deprecation and slander, all mixed up in biting retort.

Then he got to his feet, turned away from the little meadow he, Harry and the snake had inhabited for the past few hours, and began to march off in the opposite direction. "I'm going to go look for some food," was all he said, even though other words tried to slip by.

Draco stormed out into the forest, violently pushing back branches that blocked his path, and Harry watched him go, completely in turmoil at Draco's sudden exodus even as the snake's tongue kept tickling his thigh, the rolling cadence of the hisses sending insistent signals straight to his groin.

"Would you stop that!" Harry began to beg. "It's creepy. I don't want to be turned on by a snake." He encircled his hands around his upper thigh, giving up on trying to push the snake out of his trousers and now just trying to block his progress; he was as wily as a Knockturn whore on Elf Spice.

"So, it's the snake aspect of this situation that bothers you, not the salient fact that it is me?" Another flicker across his skin from the tongue, the slide of the snake's belly up his leg. The hiss… It had never affected Harry like this before, a snake's hissing. But this was different; it was low and flowed with a consistency of warm honey.

"Snape…" Harry said in a warning tone. Normally, Harry could easily say that he'd never harbored any fantasies about his old Potions professor. It wouldn't quite be the truth, but he had gotten good at ignoring certain things about himself. It wasn't what people imagined when Harry Potter came to mind; it wasn't what they expected of him. It was bad enough that Harry had abandoned the path of the Auror, or the Quidditch star. But Harry, being attracted to a man? Nobody would expect that. It wasn't something he would have even let himself think about, afraid to open that Pandora's Box.

Now the Box had been blown wide open, the hinges bent and broken…. Bent, like apparently he was, though he'd long denied any such thing.

He loved Ginny, damn it!

He'd wanted a home and a family. He'd wanted to grow old with someone, be loved by them forever for who he was, not who people expected him to be.

She'd said she didn't feel that way for him anymore, and that he was too mellow in bed. Harry thought back to the sex they'd shared, and realized, maybe she'd had a point.

With a sigh, he continued. "Snape, please stop teasing me. My brain's going to stall if you continue, and I'm sure there's no joy at taunting a comatose man."

The snake stopped his persistent edging against the wall of Harry's gripped hands. "Perhaps. I do enjoy a challenge." Then Snape began to shift his body, wriggling in a different manner than before and slowly slipped out of Harry's trousers. Harry sighed with relief, and pressed the heel of his hand against his groin, willing all sexual desire to go away—far, far away.

Then, he watched as the snake coiled up and began to change, slowly at first, like thick molasses straight from the cooler, then more quickly as the man appeared to remember just how the transformation was done. And soon, there stood Severus Snape. Tall, and pale, his lanky hair hanging well past his shoulders.

And he was totally starkers.

"You're naked!" Harry couldn't stop his roaming eyes. Apparently, Snape was very comfortable strutting about for all the world to see.

"Yes," was all Snape said, his voice a slow drawl, and then he leered at Harry, his eyes gleaming with hunger; Harry pressed himself against the ground, suddenly sympathizing with the mice captured by the piercing gaze from a soaring falcon. Snape was the hunter, feral and full of power, and Harry feared for himself, or at least with a look like that in Snape's eyes, his chastity.

"Do you need a robe?" Harry asked to distract the man as Snape lifted one foot off the ground to stalk Harry. Harry's eyes were drawn to the man's crotch, but Harry focused on his toes instead, which were long with sparse tuffs of hair on them, and then promptly, the man fell to the ground.

Harry jumped up and went to his side where he'd landed in a gangly sprawl.

"Bugger," Snape said. "Not accustomed to being tall."

Having pulled his warm robe out of his pack, Harry draped it across Snape's body, covering the man from hairy toes to collar bones. "You okay?" Harry asked him, squatting next to his head, his hand reaching out to pluck an oak leaf from his black hair.

"Of course," Snape said, and Harry was surprised that he hadn't snapped or sounded annoyed. Then Snape began to chuckle.

Something was wrong with the universe.

"Snape? Snape! What's wrong?" Harry grabbed Shape's shoulders and began to shake him like a misbehaving boy. "Why are you laughing?" Had he gone insane while stuck here in the Land of the Fae?

"Potter," Snape began through his chuckles. Then louder, "Potter, stop manhandling me this instant."

"Harry? What the…? Severus!"

Harry looked up and saw Draco emerge from the trees, a flock of tiny silver dragonflies buzzing around his head, one perched on his left shoulder. The look of shock transformed into delight as Draco ran over to the two men on the ground. The dragonflies followed.

"Severus! Oh Merlin. It's you. It really is. You're alive." Draco began patting Snape's body over his entire length, down his legs, across his torso, and finally he fumbled for the man's hand and held it tight. "You're alive."

"Yes, Draco. It appears so." Snape sat up, the cloak slipping off his body to pool in his lap. Harry made a point of not looking at the man's bare end. Then Snape hmmed, a deep sound rumbling from his chest, and Harry had to look away, hoping the other men wouldn't look his direction. Merlin, the noises that man made.

"Draco, without that haughty sneer, you're quite an attractive man," Snape said. "I think I will have you both."

Harry's head shot up to look at Snape. "What the hell?" Harry said, his voice loud enough to startle the silver dragonflies, which took to the air in a cloud.

Draco examined Snape critically. "Severus, are you quite feeling all right?"

Snape sighed, a long, exasperated sound that almost reminded Harry of the bitter man he'd worked with to defeat Voldemort.

Then, one dragonfly separated from the flock, buzzing a tight cadence, and Harry noticed it wasn't an insect at all, but a very small fairy with long antennae and a skinny body. The men watched it fly, weaving between them. With lightening reflexes, Draco shot his hand out and snagged the fairy from out of the air.

Harry's jaw dropped, impressed.

"Okay, you little shit. You're going to tell us how to get out of the Land of Crazy, so we can get home to our lives." Draco stood, and the other two men followed. Snape hung Harry's cloak from his shoulders, letting it hand open. Harry focused on the sprite.

"Draco, don't squeeze so hard," Harry said. The little fairy's piercing scream had summoned Harry to Draco's side. "Don't hurt him."

"Harry, stop being a bleeding heart. This bug is going to help us get out, aren't you bug?"

"Let me go!" The fairy squirmed and Draco's fingers clenched and suddenly all the struggle left the little body. After that, Draco's fingers relaxed and the fairy looked sourly upon them

"You can't leave…" he began, but a quick pulse of Draco's grip pushed the next few words out in a rush, "without fulfilling the Law."

Harry exchanged a glance with Draco and Severus.

"What Law?" Draco asked.

"The Law of the Gift of the Fae."

"What do we have to do, then? To fulfill this Law? Tell us!" Draco shook the silver fairy.

The tiny head bobbed about and it took time for the creature to come to, once Draco stopped thrashing him about.

"You have to do three things."

"Oh fucking fuck," Draco growled. "Don't tell me. We have to find the cockatrice that laid ruby eggs and count the dimples on a giant's ass."

The fairy seemed to take Draco's suggestions to thought, but with the threat of more shaking, he denied such quests. "No, you must do three things."

"I got that," Draco said menacingly. Snape snorted, his arms crossed over his chest.

The fairy glared. "First, you must entertain the Queen."

With an impatient shake of his head, Draco said, "And what does the Queen like to be entertained with?"

"I can think of a few things that might entertain her," Snape said, and Harry looked over at his old professor just as the man licked his lips.

Harry's eyes bulged. "Snape, my God, that's sick!"

Snape looked honestly shocked, and then the left side of his mouth quirked up. "Potter, I'm surprised your mind went there."

"Song," the fairy interjected. "She likes songs." He eyed the three men, his gaze flashing from one to the next.

"Okay, what else?"

"You must wash your banality away in the Pond of Lipion."

"Where is it," Harry asked, and Draco looked over at him, his eyes suggesting it was about time he joined in on the interrogation.

"South of here, by the copse of large apple trees. Near the boulder of granite." The fairy gestured in the direction with a lift of his chin. His antennae bobbed with the motion. Harry noticed that his eyes were multifaceted, like the creatures it flocked with.

"And the last thing?" This time it was Snape who asked. He'd stepped between Harry and Draco and now the three stood in a tight knot, all of them looking down at the trapped Fae.

The tiny antennae waved. "Well, the Good-bye Feast, of course. It will happen here, after you fulfill the two previous requirements."

Draco lifted his wand and the little fairy turned stark blue. "No! No, I told you everything."

"Was there any trickery in what you just told us?"

"Everything I told you was true. Do those three things and the passage will open for you."

Harry thought back to the poisoned Pepperup and the reason he'd come looking for Snape in the first place. "And when can we do these things? Now? Just sing a song and take a dip and then we party and off we go?"

"No." It shook its head violently. "You must perform the tasks in procession in one day. Tomorrow is Beltane and the doors open easily on the Quarter days. In the morning you can sing. Height of the sun you must bathe, and at the evening is the Feast."

Draco looked at the other two, and Harry shrugged. He felt he could pose questions to the Fae for hours on end and probably get no clearer answers than what they'd just gotten.

"Well, three tasks in one day," Draco said. "I guess we can last another day. Though our food is running low." He stared down at the creature in his fist. "Is there some food around here? A French restaurant? A curry shop?"

The little head shook again, antennae dancing. "No, but there are plenty of berries and fruit. And a pool nearby with good water for drinking."

Harry stared at Draco. "Curry shop?"

He shrugged. "Well, I had to try."

"I wouldn't turn away potato soup. And fresh bread," Snape added, looking past Harry, a thoughtful expression settled on his lips. Harry shook his head. He needed to stop staring at those lips.

"Okay then, we will let you go. But if we find you've lied to us—" Draco let the threat hang there and the fairy shivered.

"No. I gave you truth."

With that, Draco opened his fist, and the fairy raced away.

Harry watched it gain altitude and then dodge behind the reaching top of a fir tree. "I think we're screwed," Harry said. And sadly, the two Slytherins agreed.

The night set goose bumps spreading across his arms, and sleep continued to dart and slip away like the dragonflies from the previous day. The ground was hard, he couldn't Transfigure anything in this cursed place, and he only had his cloak for warmth. He wanted a bed. He wanted….

Draco couldn't stop thinking. What if that little piece of shite had lied? What if they were trapped here forever and Draco would never be able to control the things that spilled from his lips.

Unfortunately, the more he reflected on his recent lack of brain-to-mouth filter, he began to develop a hypothesis of just why the most inappropriate things that popped into his mind just dripped from his mouth like baby poo.

He was cursed by the Fae.

During a dinner of peaches, granola bars and biscuits, he'd had to bite his tongue to stop his inappropriate assessment of the webbing of scars across Severus' back. He knew the older man had transected the surface of hell, as a child and in service to the Dark Lord; the last thing he'd wanted to do was bring out horrid memories. However, he was curious. He wanted to know where the scars had come from. He wanted to know the horrors Severus had gone through that were a testament to his strength. He'd always admired the man.

And now he was stranded here with Severus and Harry. Both men he'd fantasized about on some level, with a horrible tendency to spout out the first thought in his head if he let his guard slip the slightest amount. He was hungry, and cold, and Merlin be damned! He just wanted to be able to relax and not feel so… trapped.

With a muttered Silencing Charm, Draco stood and walked out of their little camp to a small pool they'd gathered their drinking water from. A full moon hung just behind the tips of the trees and a flittering reflection lit up the hollow. His approach, though silent, startled a few dark ducks, and they paddled out into the center of the pond, casting ripples over the surface. Draco stared down at the water and saw his distorted reflection staring back. His hair framed his face, but even in the dim he could see the shadowy edge under his eyes, the drawn ridge to his brows.

He leaned forward and looked, really looked into his eyes. Grey and reflective, like a shield. His armor. But now, they seemed to shimmer, and he knew the barrier he'd built up since childhood, from the early lessons taught to him by his father and his aunt and just living as a Malfoy, was slowly dissolving.

He stood and stared up at the sky. There were no stars; the moon was too bright, hanging there like a fat balloon. In the distance Draco could hear the far away echo of a song and laughter, and realized the Fae must be reveling. At least someone was happy.

He stepped back into the clearing and glanced at Harry, wondering where Snape had gone. Then he noticed the large snake wrapped around Harry's body, twined between Harry's legs and a sudden spark of emotion flared in Draco's chest, causing his hands and legs to go numb. Jealousy and desire and hope. These emotions haunted him. He turned away, lay down on his cloak and closed his eyes.

Sleep remained at bay.

Severus shifted his body, and wrapped himself along the length of Potter, from neck to foot. The man was like a hot stone and Severus soaked up all the warmth he could.

He'd been enjoying living as a snake. He found the lifestyle to be beneficial to his temperament and he also took alarming pleasure lying in wait and smothering his prey, his actions surreptitious until it was too late, and then slipping into a digestive lethargy in the warm rays of the sun.

But now Potter and Draco had invaded his retirement and he realized that perhaps he'd been lonely with only his food to contend with and a fairy or two. And weren't the two young men tasty in their own ways?

Snape had always been a man of personal denial. Controlled. Sharp. For too long he'd denied himself simple pleasures, because it had been unwise to offer fodder to those who would use anything against him: his job, pets, favored students, heirloom keepsakes. He still hated Lucius for breaking his mother's singing bowl. Then it'd turned into more of a form of retribution. 'Look at me, I'm without love, I'm without home, I'm without joy… Have I suffered fully for my sins?'

But what was sin and what was atonement, for he was just a man who had done what he could to survive and he came out alive in the end. Alive! And shouldn't he accept this gift and live? For once live and have love and a home and joy and all those things the good and pure take for granted?

Snape knew he wasn't good, and he certainly wasn't pure, but he was just as worthy as those who kept their hands as clean as freshly fallen snow, maybe more so, because he'd challenged the world, and through that daring he'd changed the world, and wasn't it a better place now for his audacity?

People should be lining up to make him happy.

And now he saw something that might bring him that happiness, and he decided he would make his own choices.

Muddled with sleep, Harry languidly tilted his hips against the pressure on his cock. God, so good. How long had it been? Since Ginny? Yes, he hadn't been touched by anyone since Ginny, and he knew… this wasn't the unknowing fumbling of a woman, however skilled she might be. He knew that on a deeper level than his addled brain could muster. The pressure shifted, running up and down his length, rhythmic, consistent.

Utter physical pleasure… A groan slipped from his lips and he rolled onto his back.

A noise, sharp and alien, infested his dream, his very good dream, and he whined, tilting his head away to avoid the inevitable awakening the noise had instigated. In this dream there was no shame, no fear. Only feeling.

"Fine." The word was high pitched, balanced on the edge of sanity. "If you must fraternize with a snake, fine, but please, please put up a Silencing Charm next time."

Harry stopped moving. Slowly, he let his mind wander through the sensations over his body. His feet were numb; they must have slipped out from under his cloak. His left leg was wrapped up in something, his cloak maybe… is that why he was cold? And… oh Merlin. Something was moving across his cock. Just the right pressure, just the right pace, and he knew it had been going on for some time because just then it was all too much, and Harry threw back his head and let the slow boil of his orgasm surge through his body like waves crashing against the ocean shore.

A moment passed, and another, and Harry just lay there, one arm thrown over his eyes and he knew exactly what had just happened, and that fear and that shame swallowed him whole.

"Umm, Snape. Would you please get off me?"

"I think after that exquisite performance, you could at least exchange pleasures, Potter."

Harry sighed. "I'm not jerking off a snake… I wouldn't even know how."

Off to his left, he heard Draco growl.

He kept his face hidden as the snake slid off him and after the passage of barely a few seconds, he heard, "Well, how about a man. I'm sure you can figure that out."

"Oh, fucking hell!" Harry pulled his hand off of his face and looked over at Draco, who was teetering on the edge of some kind of breakdown.

Naked, Snape's cock hung heavy, defying gravity with its fullness. Snape looked over at Draco, his chin lowered, a fierce squinting to his eyes, and said, "Well, I would prefer if you would join us." Another shiver overtook Harry's body. Snape glanced from Draco to Harry. "Would you like that?"

His mouth suddenly went dry and his prick gave a hungry throb, reawakening.

Snape turned from Harry and in five steps stood inches from Draco's chest. Harry watched as with each footfall Draco's eyes grew wider and wider, his mouth tightly clamped shut. Snape leaned down, his nose brushing against Draco's cheek, his skin glowing in the moonlight. "Would you like that?" he asked again, this time his question aimed at Draco.

"Merlin, Severus. Are you trying to kill me?" Draco finally said. Now that his mouth was working, Draco's eyes were screwed shut, like a little boy who thought that if he couldn't see the monster under the bed, it really wasn't there. Harry watched, his erection racing to fullness once more, as Snape touched his tongue to Draco's chin, and slowly licked the man up along the side of his face.

"Fucking yes, Severus." The whispered words were ripped from Draco's will, and with their release, all the tension washed through his body, from head to toe, like lightning had struck the man from a storm raging from beyond the darkened sky.

And then Snape wrapped Draco's waist up in one arm, and he dove for his lips, which Harry had so recently been noticing himself, and as he watched the two men kissing, awash in the silver glow of the moon, Harry saw a slice of what could be, a piece of another reality that did exist and was possible and something within him unclenched that he hadn't even known was knotted up. He watched them and he longed for them, as if between these two sarcastic men was exactly where he'd belonged all along.

How could it be that he missed their touch when he'd never felt it before?

The kiss slowed, languid, and finally Snape licked across Draco's lips, now swollen and red.

"Get over here," Snape said, tossing the words over his shoulder without turning away from Draco.

And Harry complied.

Draco blinked his eyes open. The sky above was chalky and stagnant, like a canvas backdrop painted in time. Never changing. There were clouds, soft things that held no threat, only depth; no wind urged them along. Something about the slant of the early light or maybe the stillness carried his spirit. He felt that on the edge of his hearing, if he really focused, he could hear music and he was lost in it.

It seemed an immeasurable amount of time had passed, but nothing had changed.

Then someone stirred and he looked down to see Harry nuzzling into his side, his eyes relaxed closed. His hair stuck up in the back and the remnants of his scar peeked through the part in his bangs.

Maybe it wasn't the lighting after all.

He looked back up at the grey sky, a little periwinkle blue along the gap of horizon he could see through the trees. Grey tinges on grey highlights.

Slowly, the sun rose; the light warmed the periwinkle into sky blue with shades of aquamarine. The colors captured his breath, breaking his heart.

"Hmm, good morning, Draco." Draco looked down at Harry, who was smiling a crooked grin at him. That smile…it had always been something Draco had wanted…just for him. First friendship and now this…the truth of it overwhelmed Draco.

And he realized he could no longer lie to himself.

He smiled in return and Harry's own grin softened into something contented. "Good morning, Harry."

"You two certainly squawk like a pair of guineafowl in the morning. If I'd known that, I would have kicked you straight out of bed."

Draco snorted, then reached over Harry and rubbed his hand along Severus' arm. "You call this a bed?" The hard ground dug into Draco's hip as Severus scooted closer, pressing Harry tight in between the two. Harry practically purred.

"Ready for round two?" Harry asked, then yawned, and blushed. It was all very fetching.

Draco glanced at Severus, whose eyes were heavy lidded as he snuffled into Harry's neck. He pressed his groin into Harry's arse and drawled, "Always."

It was all very surreal. Last night Draco had been with two men…. Two men he knew, not strangers, not anyone he'd pondered dating, and two of them. Two. One of them previously labeled Most Sought After Bachelor by Witch Weekly. Oh, how the women will weep, Draco thought, leaning in for a kiss, which Harry eagerly returned.

And could the man kiss. His lips were pliable, but demanding, and that little nip he did on Draco's bottom lip sent signals coursing through to the ends of his fingers and toes, signals that insisted certain bits prepare for more exercise.

Then they released, and Draco lifted his face to Severus, whose black eyes seemed even blacker when he came in to capture Draco's mouth. Severus' kiss was heady, never giving quarter for Draco to breathe, and it was fast and eager and Draco simply held on for the ride. The man's tongue pulled out groans, his lips swallowed down sighs. Draco marveled at his luck.

One leg forced its way between his two, and he allowed the intrusion and gasped as Harry's thigh pressed into his filling cock. Like the night before, they frotted and rutted, nothing that Draco would call true sex in the greedy sense of the definition, but it was pure sex. As a unit, they moved, rocking and filling the morning air, now alive with birds and butterflies, with the cries of their pleasure.

Each thrust against Harry's thigh brought Draco closer, an inevitable force like a charging stallion. He could hear Severus panting in time with the rock of their bodies, even as Harry's soft litany of 'yes,' 'God,' and 'so close' filled Draco with a sense of accomplishment, and he couldn't wait until they had a real bed, not this hard ground, and he and Severus could show Harry what true sex with men was like and with just that promise he was coming, erratic and never-ending. He cried out with the intensity: names and gods and affirmations, groaning out as his energy was leached from his body.

Draco knew he couldn't speak now, to break the sounds of rutting and loving would be taboo, and honestly his lips were quite occupied with other important duties as he rode out the twitches and jolts. A bite of a shoulder, a lick along wet lips. But he couldn't stop his brain, his thoughts, as he ran a hand along the line of Severus' spine, or felt the puff of air across his cheek from Harry's exertions. He urged Harry, gripped him even as Severus ground into him from behind, the man's head thrown back, radiant with fucking bliss. If he did open his mouth, Draco might say things dredged up from the bottom of his heart. He might say, I've needed you for so long. Or something like Merlin, you're so beautiful. You are both so beautiful. But really, the thing that scared him the most was the feeling of his heart, ready to burst, as the two men looked into his eyes as they found their own release.

I love you, he almost said. Almost.

Cleaning Charms and a quick breakfast of grapes and rice crackers later, Harry still couldn't stop grinning. Every time he looked at either Draco or Snape, he'd just burst into another inane grin. He suddenly felt like he'd gone round the bend, but then Snape and Draco regarded him with two parts pride and three parts affection, and the ground shifted underneath Harry's feet and he wasn't sure if he could remain upright at all.

Everything was different. Everything.

And that…well, that was okay.

He stared up into the shifting leaves and wondered if they rained down some odd pheromone, like pollen, to make him feel this way, and if his feelings were only due to a spell of the Fae. He looked away not wanting to think about it, his smile a memory.

"So, we must sing for the Queen," Snape broke through his shadowed thoughts. "Any ideas? Though I am sure you will be shocked at this, I'm not much of a vocal talent." He was perched on a log they'd levitated into the clearing since they couldn't seem to Transfigure anything here. Snape suggested the magic of the place was already too chaotic, and such spells couldn't find the true form of an item to transform it. So, they sat on rocks and slept on the ground. Harry didn't mind too much.

"I would suggest something flattering, maybe God Save the Queen," Harry suggested.

"You think the Queen of the Fae would enjoy a song that is sung to the Queen of Muggle England?" Draco asked. As he talked, Harry watched his lips. "Harry?" Draco squinted at him.

"Yeah. What?" Then Harry smirked at Draco, followed by a leer for good measure. Draco's mouth fell open the tiniest bit.

"Boys, boys," Snape interrupted. "While I am all about pursuing my own desires, and I wouldn't mind another interlude with the two of you," he said in his silkiest voice, "I am under the impression that, while I am content here, the two of you wish to leave this place and continue on with your lives back in the normal plane of existence."

Harry and Draco shared a look, and in the silence the two men made a pact.

Then Draco turned back to Snape. "Yes, Severus. We do wish to return. Sing first—" He delivered a heated gaze at Snape. "—then we can get back on the train."

"The train?" Harry asked.

"Yes, do you want to caboose this time?" Draco asked, holding in a snicker.

Harry shook his head, feigning ignorance because it amused him. He'd had his own experience with women, well mainly one woman, and while he'd never been with a man before, in any capacity, he wasn't completely clueless. He knew that eventually they would be naked—well, all of them naked, versus just Snape—and he found it entertaining to let them think he was utterly innocent in the ways of gay sex. He couldn't wait for Draco to try to explain exactly what the lube was for.

Of course, they had no lube, so maybe it was better they just rubbed against each other like they had been. For now, for him, it was satisfying enough.

"I know an old children's song my mother used to sing to me," Draco said, his chin raised. His shoulders were held low, providing maximum distance between them and his ears, giving him an aristocratic look that Harry recognized as Draco's uncomfortable don't-challenge-me stance.

Snape raised one eyebrow, but said nothing and Harry realized that Snape knew Draco's body language as well as Harry, perhaps even better. The light filtering through the trees washed over the other two men, giving them faint auras as they discussed the Queen's song. Harry shifted uncomfortably; he felt ignored.

Then Snape was by his side, the lighting no longer illuminating his black hair as something noble and gothic. Now, he just looked liked like his old Potions professor, only without that hatred peering from behind his eyes like the devil. He looked years younger; living as a snake had done him good.

"Do you want to learn the words?" Draco asked, his features softening, and Harry nodded.

With patience that made Draco not just an adequate teacher but a damned good one, he taught Snape and Harry a few versus of the song. Harry wished he'd had quill and parchment to write down the lyrics, because the words entered one ear and quickly got lost in a mass of total forgetfulness.

Once they'd gone over the song three times and Harry only fumbled four lines, and Snape mocked him with only half an effort, Draco deemed them ready.

"Well, it isn't going to be perfect," he said.

"Why don't you do it, a solo? It will be grand," Harry suggested, his eyes wide and hopeful.

"No."

Harry slouched. It wouldn't be so bad. It couldn't be worse than proposing to Ginny and having her giggle in his face. "Fine. Let's get this serenade going."

Draco opened his mouth, and began.

"Where did all this virtue spring?"

His voice was soft, and he sang in an off-tune falsetto. Really, Harry didn't think he sounded all that good, a little too fake, and that bolstered his own nerve. He joined in for the next line.

"Spun of silver spider's thread."

While Draco's voice reached high on the upper notes, making his voice go all tinny, Harry knew such feats were beyond his expertise, so he dropped an octave lower and tried to sing in tune. From the ill look on Snape's face, he figured that, combined, they amounted to one big fail.

Then Snape made a huge display of inhaling and he added his own baritone.

"She gives me lilac bells and flying spells, the Queen of Fairy Land."

A little fairy fluttered by them, hovering just over their heads, and then dashed away in a sparkle of lights.

"The beautiful maid in sparkling gown, we dance with buttercups in hand—"

Their song wavered, the different tones brewing up a discordance that caused Harry's ears to ache. He scratched one, imagining Snape dancing around with a buttercup gripped between his fingers. Muttering, Harry hacked his way through the next verse about sunshine or moonshine, or something, and ready for the next line, he added extra volume. The three of them joined together in a truly inspired warble.

"…to this the Queen of Fairy Land."

"Please! Please stop!"

The three wizards halted their song—they had three more stanzas left—and looked up at a very pale fairy. Her eyes were pink and Harry thought she might be an albino.

"I thought we had to serenade the Queen with a song," Draco said as he craned his head back to stare at the fluttering Fae.

"Yes, but you're making the younglings cry. They think monsters have come to the Land."

Snape looked at the other two and threw back his head with a laugh.

Bushes rustled. "I thought it was this way."

"No, definitely this path. Damn!" A branch snapped.

"Hey, Severus? Draco?"

The other two turned to look at Harry. Snape was full-on annoyed, his eyes shadowed by his bunched brow, and he rubbed at his arm where a branch had slapped him. Draco looked surprisingly like a lost kitten, and Harry wanted to grin at them both, hold them close. But he kept the smile off his face and pointed at a small animal trail through the undergrowth. He could see an apple tree in the distance; heavy, round fruit weighed down the branches. They'd been searching the forest for the pool since the fairy had put an end to their serenade, and now they were lost with little idea of which way was east or west, let alone in which direction the pool lay.

"How about this?" The soil held more moisture here and the smell of the damp earth was prevalent on the air. Harry thought it was a good sign.

"Bunny trail," Draco said dismissively, then returned to hacking at the thick growth with slicing hexes when a vine reached out and twined around his leg.

"Agh!" Draco was yanked to the ground. "Help, it's going to eat me!" With surprising speed, Draco was dragged through shrubs and berry bushes, foot first, until he reached the bottom of a stately tree.

Harry and Snape leapt to Draco's side, slicing and tugging at the thick vine, but nothing even scratched it; it was impervious to even Sectumsempra. The vine continued to coil around Draco, securing him to the pale trunk.

Tired, the skin along his bare arms raw from scraping against the woody vines, Harry leaned over and panted. "My God, Draco. How did you end up stumbling onto the one plant that we are completely impotent against?"

Off to his right, Snape chuckled.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "Severus, please tell me that you are not laughing at impotent."

The laughing stopped. "I'm sorry," Snape said. "I found it amusing at the time." Then he snorted once more.

"Help me." Draco tried to move. "You're both useless! I once would have called you friends, but now I couldn't even rate you as lackeys. You suck as lackeys. Can't even help me out of this tangle. Useless!" He twisted to no avail.

Draco had been strung up by the fast moving plant. One arm, lifted over his head in a delicate curve, was wrapped tight against the smooth bark of the beech tree by a long coil of vine. His other arm was pulled around to the back side of the trunk. His head was trapped in a tilt, one vine trailing over his forehead, and the wide expanse of his exposed skin, growing pinker and pinker as Harry studied him, suddenly caused Harry to salivate. Other vines had entwined around his body, tugging up his shirt to reveal a flat stomach, wrenching one leg to the side. One creeper was drawn taut at the juncture of groin and leg, the pose wanton and suggestive.

And as Harry's eyes lingered on Draco's crotch, he saw that not only was the vision suggestive, the position and circumstance must have been as well, because a noticeable bulge strained against the tightened fabric of Draco's trousers.

Harry licked his lips and looked over at Snape. Snape, lost in the vision, took a few moments before he turned his burning gaze at Harry.

The spark in Snape's eyes held pure wickedness.

As one, the two men turned back towards Draco and saw that as he watched them, his expression blanked. That clean slate screamed many things to Harry.

Finally, Draco swallowed, opened his mouth, closed it. He squirmed, then opened his mouth again. "Get over here, would you?"

And with that, Harry and Snape lunged at Draco strapped up by vine and branch, their mouths colliding with this exposed skin, hungry and questing. Tongue on belly, lips on throat, and finally, Harry landed on Draco's open mouth and swallowed each groan whole.

"So gorgeous. So… Oh God, Draco," Harry said, panting as he pulled back to sear Draco with the fever of his gaze: the man's body, his skin, the heat of his grey eyes. Somehow Draco's hair had become mussed, and Harry realized he'd probably been the cause of that; he couldn't keep his hands still.

"You like this, yes?" Snape asked, and Harry nodded, then realized he was asking Draco.

Draco squeaked, biting his lips shut.

"Draco. Do not hold your tongue. Tell us."

Finally, Draco let loose his words and they came in a flood. As he groaned out, "Merlin, Yes. Please, I want you, both of you… just touch me," his voice rose higher, eager and demanding. "Yes, there. Kiss me, Severus. My cock. Merlin, somebody… Please, somebody just suck my cock." Harry tried his best to follow the pleas Draco begged of them.

That is how he found himself kneeling before Draco, one knee squishing a patch of small red flowers, the other braced against a fallen log, Draco's fly open and the angry head of his cock bobbing right before Harry's face.

He'd never been this close to a penis before, an erection, a cock, a prick, and as his mind ran through all the names for it, he almost giggled.

What if he did it wrong?

"Potter," Snape said, and Harry almost came from just the sound of Snape's voice alone. He could say, "Potter, you're a failure at Potions," right now, and Harry would fill his pants. "Open your mouth," he said instead.

Harry licked his lips again—they were swollen, he could tell—and opened his mouth, eyes never leaving the hard flesh in front of him.

"Now, wrap those lips tight around Draco's cock." Cock. Harry followed instructions, and at the first contact of lips on Draco's soft skin, Draco gasped and thrust his hips forward mere inches, as far as the vines would let him.

"Harry, yes, yesyes. And Severus, do not stop talking."

In spite of himself, Harry hummed in laughter—apparently he wasn't the only one Snape's voice affected—and was rewarded by another gasp, and then Draco slipped into incoherent babbling of 'yes' and 'please' and 'Merlin' and 'fucking right there.'

"Harry." Snape's voice emerged from behind Harry's left ear, and he could feel arms around his waist, hands on his belt undoing the buckle, then moving to the button on his trousers. "Run your tongue along the bottom of Draco's cock." The word cock slipping from Snape's lips carried with it the sin of a thousands rent boys. "Suck and rub. Suck again, deeper." When Snape said 'deeper,' he pushed the waistband of Harry's pants down. Harry shifted to let Snape push them down past his hips. He felt awkward, his bare arse hanging out in the air, a cock head brushing against the roof of his mouth, but when a finger trailed down Harry's tailbone, down into his crack, thoughts of awkwardness were quickly banished by, 'Oh Merlin, Snape is going to play with my hole.'

To his side, Snape murmured, "Suck harder, Harry. Swallow his cock down." Above him he heard groans and wails as Draco's hips shifted with the pace of Harry's sucking. And behind him, Harry felt a tingle as Snape cast a spell, and wetness slicked over him that wasn't entirely comfortable.

Ah, so lube wasn't really a problem at all.

"I'm going to enter you now, Harry. Just one finger. Don't stop sucking Draco. If you stop, I will stop."

Harry nodded, tilting his arse to give Snape ample room. Snape chuckled, then pressed in one finger.

Harry nearly choked.

Then Snape pressed deeper, and twisted his finger, and the groan that Harry released mingled with Draco's in a harmony unattained by their prior singing exploits. It was the most exquisite music made by men.

His body burned, each cell suffused with a fire that he'd never before experienced. Here he was, in the forest, with a cock down his throat and a finger up his arse and Harry had never felt so alive.

"Remember," Snape said so close to Harry's ear he quivered as the puff of breath ghosted across his skin, "if you stop, then I stop."

Harry resumed his enthusiastic fumbling, one hand now gripping the base of Draco's erection as he swallowed deeper followed by a few shallow sucks of the head as Snape inserted another finger, then another, fucking Harry with them in a steady motion.

Draco's body had gone tense and Harry knew that he was close, and with one final swallow Harry groaned, and Draco's spasms thrashed through his trapped limbs, a cry erupting from his lips as he shot down Harry's throat, and in that moment, Snape removed his fingers and replaced them with something far thicker, all in one fluid motion.

Impaled at both ends, Harry released Draco's erection and cried out his own passion as Snape pulled out, then thrust in again, over and over. The pain and fire and desire all went up in a mingled inferno as Harry's own orgasm wrapped around his entire body, as he unloaded himself all over the loamy earth.

A few grunts later Snape too found his own release and slumped on top of Harry, and in that moment, Harry felt the reality of where he was, who he was with, and acknowledged that this was right.

When he took notice of the world around him again, Harry's pants had been tugged up over his arse and Snape lay on his side next to him. Harry looked up and saw Draco had also been tucked away, but he appeared increasingly uncomfortable still bonded to the tree.

"This vine. It won't let me go," he said. "Nice blow job, by the way." His eyes grew wide, and then he just inhaled and shrugged. "I've wanted your mouth on me for forever, Harry," he said, as if resigned to the admission.

Harry looked down at Draco's feet and ran his hand through his hair. "Well, it was my first one, I hope it was okay."

"Merlin, Harry. Don't be a modest idiot. I think you have a knack, but I'm sure more practice wouldn't hurt." Harry looked back up at Draco and beamed at him.

"And you," Snape asked. "How are you feeling, Harry?"

Harry turned to look at Snape, the long length of the man as he lie on his side, propped up on one arm, the soft weight of his dick resting against his leg. The man had to be a nudist at heart. "A little sore, but… " He darted in for a frenzy of kisses, then pulled back and glanced from Draco to Snape and back again. "I really… really fucking liked that." Snape chuckled. "And I hope… Well, what do you think about trying that again? Back in our world?"

Harry was bombarded with, "That would not be remiss," and "Wild horses couldn't drag me away," both in the same sardonic tone, and he couldn't help but lift back his chin and laugh, thanking the day he'd poked that mushroom.

Snape stood, wrapped himself up in a cloak, and examined the vines still wrapped around Draco. "I'm unsure what else to use." Spell after spell and Snape still couldn't release Draco from his bonds. A dark cloud settled over the man.

Harry watched him, letting Snape file through his gamut of magic. "While you do make a pretty picture all trussed up, I bet you have a nasty neck kink," Harry said to Draco.

"I think you have a bondage kink," Draco said with a smirk, and Harry agreed, somehow proud that he wasn't as boring as vanilla like Ginny had accused him of being.

"Here, Severus. Let me try."

Harry could only think of one thing that might help: to unbalance the pure magical make-up of the tree.

With a ready stance, he lifted his wand and began to chant the complicated sequence of words that Draco had taught him years ago, one that he'd recently had to use on a pesky bouquet. Draco's eyes grew wide once he realized the spell Harry was using, then relief took over as the vines slithered away from their unending embrace.

"You used the Disruption Spell," Draco said, his tone harsh. "You do realize that it could have unraveled the very fabric of the Fae realm."

Oh. Well, no, Harry hadn't. But he schooled his features and simply shrugged. "Sometimes you just need to take the chance."

They found the pool and bathed. The water was clear, and warmer than Harry had expected. And while lounging in the spring, it was his turn to prepare Snape, with plenty of guidance from Draco, and as he entered him, it suddenly became very apparent why his sex life with Ginny had been so dull.

In a single file row, the three men walked back to their clearing and discovered it full of tiny people with wings. They ranged from the size of butterflies to fairies almost a foot in height. Reds, yellows, blacks and golds, each color sparkled and the air filled with the buzz of constantly beating wings.

The raucous joy nearly overwhelmed Draco, who was still in a bit of a daze from his incarceration by the tree and their later languid enjoyment at the pool. Never before had Draco wished, because things he longed for never came to be.

He looked over at his companions. Snape was laughing, noiselessly, but Draco could tell he was laughing by his posture and the squint of his eye. Harry just stared at the fairies, his mouth parted in awe and wonder; they looked, for all the world, amazing.

For a moment, the fairies went silent, then in an uproar they all fluttered about, dive bombing the three in a game of tag, buzzing their heads in greeting, all in welcome, all in play.

Draco thought, 'Oh Merlin, deliver me.'

"It's the wizardmen. The wizardmen! Come to party. Come to feast."

And feast they did.

After a couple of days on rations of nuts and twigs, Draco was ready for the piles of sweets and breads. There were pies and hearty soups made from root vegetables. Potato pies and biscuits. Draco noted there was no meat on the menu, but he didn't mind because his goblet overflowed with Fae wine, and though the mortal man was always warned against partaking in a Fairy Feast, Draco threw caution to the side and enjoyed himself to his fullest potential.

The meadow was lined with fairy lights and throughout the night the Fae came to talk to them, teasing them with innuendo and lewd gestures. Lounging on a pile of pillows sized for humans, Draco popped a blueberry into his mouth and sucked out the juices. He was on his fifth helping of wine and was more than a little muddy in the brain. Severus sat behind him, one arm around his waist and forever nuzzling the back of Draco's neck with his aristocratic nose. Harry was nearby, lying on his back, gazing up at the sky through the swaying tops of the trees. The air was heady with the scent of night-blooming flowers.

"So, we go back tonight," he said. Draco was annoyed that none of Harry's words slurred.

"So we have been told," Severus said, the words bumping into Draco's neck.

Harry rolled over and looked at them. "I know that the Fae did something to us." He eyed Draco and Severus, waiting for their response.

"Yes, we did."

All three looked up to see the fairy from a couple days ago, the one with the oak leaves and gossamer skirt. He did a little bow at them as he hung in the air like a spider on its silk.

"What did you do?" Harry asked, his words urgent.

"It is the gift of the Fae, silly wizardman. Everyone here earns freedom." The fairy flew down to land on Snape's nose, only to get kindly brushed aside. "The snakeman was given the Freedom of Choice."

"What exactly do you mean?" Draco asked. "Severus, you've always been a man to make your own choices."

A bark of laughter erupted from the man and he shook his head, his long hair swaying in a mesmerizing way. "I made one very important choice in my life, Draco, and following that catastrophic mistake, all other choices had been taken from me. Now, I am bound to no master." He leaned back on his elbows and Draco missed his warmth. "And I quite like it."

The little fairy flew to Draco, escorted by a fat honeybee that buzzed on by to a nearby jasmine bush. The fairy looked down at Draco like he was a toddler who'd lost his puppy. "The silverwizardman was given the Freedom of Speech," he said, and with a happy little exclamation, he back flipped through the air and darted towards Harry.

Freedom of Speech? Suddenly, Draco wasn't quite so drunk anymore.

"What about me?" Harry asked, a worry line between his brows.

"Certainly you've figured it out," said the skirt-wearing fairy. Harry shook his head in denial. The fairy tilted his head and clicked his tongue at Harry. "Freedom of Thought."

"Huh? But that… that makes no sense," Harry said, his voice dying in quiet thought.

That certainly wasn't what Draco'd been expecting. He'd figured it was freedom of sexual orientation or something else equally embarrassing as his mouth blubber had been.

"Oh, but yes so darkwizardman. You've kept your own desires packed away trying to be what others want. You'd forgotten to think for yourself. Now, you will."

Then the fairy laughed, and fluttered past Snape, past Draco and off into the darkening canopy. "Enjoy our gifts, wizardmen! Their potential will always remain with you; if you need their power, just remember your time here with us."

Harry watched him fly away and Draco watched Harry. Then Harry said, "So, this feeling, it isn't something the Fae did, necessarily. They just released some of my … inhibitions." Draco studied the back of Harry's head, just stared, looking at the black mat of hair. For a moment he didn't know what to say, so just relaxed and let the words come out.

"No, Harry. This isn't something the Fae enchanted us with. Whatever feelings we have are ours." Harry turned around towards Draco, then glanced over at Snape.

"So then, when we leave here…" Harry grew silent, then looked down at his hands where he tugged on a blade of grass.

"When we leave here I expect you both to visit often, and regularly. I've grown fond of both of you and I don't think I could be appeased by just one."

Harry looked up at Severus, his eyes bright in the moonlight and fairy globes. Then he sighed and a smile overtook his face. Draco caught his breath at the sight.

"Good," Harry said. "I've grown fond of you, too." He looked from Severus to Draco. "Both of you. I don't know how this is going to work, but I think that it's worth a try."

"I couldn't agree more," Draco said, and lifted his glass with a "Cheers!"

The men ate and drank until the moon began to slide away from its place at the top of the sky.

Then a chime tinkled and Draco instinctly knew it was time. It must be Beltane. The three men stood and gathered up their things.

"Well, time to go stop the potion epidemic," Severus said with an almost optimistic tone.

At the edge of the clearing, a door appeared, outlined in silver light.

Then the air filled with the sparkle of lights and music. As one unit, the fairies turned to them all and bowed. Severus dipped his head and Harry kind of chuckled, running his hand through his hair, stirring up the calm style it had briefly held.

Draco watched the two men. Watched as they turned and headed for the gateway, glittery, the return home. To the place they had come from, to the way things had always been.

He followed after them, realizing that things would never be the way they had been. And that was good. He followed after them and the promises they held. In a way, he was mad. Mad for them. Mad for hoping. But he didn't care. With them he wanted to burn, burn, burn and live. Like he'd never allowed himself to do before. Live like people who had nothing and everything to lose, like vagabonds who rode across the world on touring brooms and each time they burned out their charms, they'd laugh and say 'bugger' and enchant the broom again to keep on going.

First Harry entered, a bright light bursting as he disappeared from the Land of the Fae. Then Severus went.

With a flash of light, Draco passed through.

"Miss Anderson, that is a very good vase, lovely pattern of roses along the base. However, as you can see from the instructions, you were supposed to Transfigure an urn. Please, remember to stress the hi in the incantation, not the pia. And subdue the decoration. The deceased tend to be more somber."

"Yes, Professor Malfoy. Thank you, sir." Emily Anderson placed another orchid bulb in the center of her worktable and tried again.

The doors banged against the stone walls and Draco's heart wobbled between the stalled feeling of dread and the fluttery pace of anticipation. Ida Hathaway walked through the open doorway with a slight skip to her step, and a bundle of long stemmed mushrooms in her hands.

The flutter won over.

A low murmur slipped through the classroom like morning mist, low and insignificant enough that Draco almost didn't even notice it. Confusion spread like wildfire at why Draco hadn't immediately stormed at the Sartory delivery woman with curses to her bloodline down to the twenty-second generation.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," she said with her typical exuberance. "Delivery for you." Draco watched as she tipped her coral cap and curtsied.

He held himself stiff, his shoulders drawn back and chin lifted, a stance of a prince, proud and not at all his usual pose of simmering resentment. His eyes ran over the mushrooms in her hand, large specimens with spots and he had to swallow to keep a smile from his face. As his eyes met Ida's, he simply nodded, and the woman's answering grin was so brilliant, he almost flinched at causing someone so much joy.

And this time she didn't wink, and for that Draco was immensely relieved, but she did parade down the steps towards the bottom of the classroom, nodding to the students who—with the unskilled awareness of youth—immediately understood that this delivery was different, and giggled and waved back at her.

Once she arrived at Draco's desk, she placed the bundle—he could see they were potted—of mushrooms on his desk with a gentle bow. Yes, they were the same kind, brown flesh with red spots. Slightly poisonous if ingested, and Draco chuckled under his breath at the bumbling nature of Harry, and wondered how he'd gotten away with this under Severus' nose.

Then, the delivery woman stood tall, pulled off her cap…and then she winked at Draco.

"Oh no," he said in alarm. He held his hand out, hoping to stop some sappy love song that Harry no doubt would have found amusing, but then when she opened her mouth and began to sing, he dropped his hand to his side and stared at her in awe.

She was singing the Fairy Queen song. And with her voice, it sounded splendid.

As her voice rose and fell with the tune, all Draco could do was open his mouth and laugh. He laughed at the absurdity of it, of the utter gall of Harry and Severus, and he laughed with joy.

And if a few of his students cringed in fright at the sudden insanity of their Professor, well sod them. Draco was happy. Wishes actually did come true and something as silly as his image wasn't going to hold his tongue.

The End.