The Rose in the Dark
Summary- What happens when someone slips Harry a box of drugged chocolate on Valentines Day?
Disclaimer- I own only the plotline, not the wonderful characters. They belong only to that gorgeous goddess of ingenuity, J.K.
Warning- Kinda smutty, then it gets dark and tragic, then it might get a happy ending. Contains implied yaoi, slight lemon, mpreg, the mebbe death of a character of my own making. I was pms-ing when I wrote this. RATED M FOR A REASON, FOLKS!!! Oh, and it is a Severitus, just for my sister, Netrixie. This is evil Dumbledore bashing. I needed to write one to get the bile out of my system, so I can concentrate on my good Dumbledore stories.
Author's Note 1- in my story, the tables are arranged in the Great Hall in the following order, if you are overlooking the Hall from the staff table- Slytherin on the far left, then Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw, with Gryffindor on the far right. Don't yell at me, this is just for this story. I think.
Author's Note 2- there's nothing going on between Remus and Sirius, other than the fact that they are really good friends. What might look like a threesome including them and Snape is just the awesome coolness of how close they get to each other.
Author's Note 3- Don't freak. I'm reposting the whole bulk of the original story in 9 parts. Chapter 10 is when the new stuff appears, for those of you who have this on Author alert.
Part 1
Blinding light forced Harry to wake up, even though he cursed as he did. Ron laughed at him, his expression full of mischief. "Come on, Harry. Breakfast is almost over and we have Potions first."
Harry cursed again as he sat up, then jumped when his arse protested the motion by twingeing violently. He stood, lopsided, and made his way to the shower as Ron followed, happily spouting off all that had happened during breakfast. People coming in with obvious hangovers, then firing curses at those who made noise, some examples of the rather unsettling couples that had been formed over the weekend, people sleeping with their heads on the table, the list went on and on.
Harry sighed gratefully as Ron finally left him alone. It wasn't that he didn't like Ron, it was more the Harry was probably one of the people with the hangovers. Although, he couldn't be sure, because he didn't remember anything from the weekend. He turned on the shower and let the water run to heat it up as he stripped.
Stepping into the shower was like stepping into heaven- it felt wonderful. He relaxed under the water for a minute, then grabbed his body wash. As he soaped himself up, something in the action summoned up vague recollections from the weekend. He saw visions of smooth, pale skin, heard the memory of words and sensations that enthralled his mind. He gasped when his hand accidentally brushed his straining erection, and he looked down at it in wonder. He hadn't even felt himself get hard. It had snuck up on him as he was ensnared in the fragments of remembered pleasure.
He reached down with one soapy hand and captured his hard length in one hand, slowly drowning in the sensations. Harry hunched over, holding himself steady with one hand on the wall. Head bowed, he surrendered to the dual sensations of his hand on his cock and the water pounding down on his neck and back. It was over quickly, with Harry coming harder than he could ever recall before. He stood there, panting as the shower washed away the last traces of his cum. Sighing, he lifted his head and allowed the water to pound his face, a small kind of massage.
Stepping out of the shower, he reached back and turned the water off, wrapping a towel around himself as he did so. The muscles in his bum twinged again, and he grabbed his wand with a wince and muttered "Episky" at his rear. He sighed with relief as the sharp pain and a slow, throbbing pain he hadn't even been aware of disappeared.
He peered around the door of the bathroom, trying to see if any of his dorm mates were still there. The room was quiet, however, and Harry stepped in, unwinding the towel from around his waist and vigorously started rubbing his head with it. When his hair was dry enough that water wasn't dripping from it, he started in on his body.
He happened to look up as he was doing this, and stopped his actions as shock overwhelmed him. He stepped closer to the dorm's full length mirror, leaving his towel forgotten on the floor. His tan generally hid bruises, but… Harry's body was covered in hickey's, his neck marked with impressions of teeth.
His brain could barely understand what he was seeing. But that wasn't the worst bit. On his hips, hands had apparently gripped him so hard that they had left marks. Thumb prints were on the slight jut of his hips, palm and finger prints wrapping around his sides. He turned slightly, following the marks, and his eyes encountered more marks on his back.
Scratch marks, bites, and bruises were as plentiful there as they had been on his front. There was even a bright red mark on the back of his neck, on the prominent vertebrae. Harry's hands lifted to touch it, and his eyes saw one more bit of evidence concerning his activities that weekend. His wrists were bruised, and if he looked at them closely, he could see that they, too, sported handprints.
The Gryffindor started blushing furiously when he realized what all these marks meant. Apparently, he'd had wild, uninhibited sex this weekend, and the ache that had been in his bum suggested that it had been with someone of the same sex. He thought about it for a minute. No matter what the marks on his body suggested, he was pretty sure that it had been consensual. And if he needed any more proof on the matter, he thought of the vague images he recalled, and blushed as his body happily took up the gauntlet.
A sudden beeping startled Harry out of his trance, and he looked around, trying to find the source. He found it in the shape of his alarm clock, which read, 'ten minutes until Potions'. Harry started cursing, completely forgetting the fact that he should probably heal the marks. He grabbed the first clean clothes he could find, pulled them on haphazardly, and shoved his feet into his shoes. He grabbed his tie and schoolbag, ran his hands through his hair, and bolted out of the door.
He knotted his tie as he ran through the halls to the dungeons, then tucked his shirt in. He slowed down as he neared the classroom, and a look at his watch confirmed that he had two minutes to get to class.
He walked slowly, catching his breath, and entered the classroom barely half a minute before Snape. Harry took the seat Ron had saved him, and chuckled as his friend leaned over and said, "Nice timing, mate." His reply was cut off by the entrance of the scowling professor.
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Snape glowered as he saw all the Gryffindor's were there on time, and started speaking. "Today we will be making an anti-love potion. This is used to counteract the effects of a love potion. You will be working in pairs," he sneered as people started looking around the room for people to work with, "of my choosing."
He smiled his creepy smile as the students groaned. "Goyle, Nott. Crabbe, Bulstrode. Weasley, Zabini. Finnegan, Thomas. Parkinson, Granger. Longbottom, Abbott. Malfoy, Potter."
As the students sat there, he scowled at them and said, "Well? Why haven't you started?" The class jumped and Snape smirked in satisfaction as they got up to sit with their assigned partners.
He waved his wand and instructions appeared on the board. "Instructions are on the board. Oh, and lest I forget," he said with a sneer of sheer glee, "these pairs are permanent. You will be working with these people up to and including your N.E.W.T.S." The groans that permeated the class filled him with a sense of triumph.
p.o.-p.o.-p.o.-p.o.-p.o.-p.o.
Harry sighed in dejection as he moved his stuff over to Malfoy, as he knew the git would never move over to him. Setting his stuff on the table, he dropped into the empty chair and waited for the other boy to make the usual snide comment, but he never did. Harry stole a peek at him, and raised an eyebrow.
The boy looked like hell, and seemed to be asleep with his eyes open. Silently, Harry snorted to himself. He probably partied harder than I did. He flushed hotly when he remembered just how he'd partied, and quickly thought about something else. He looked around the room and saw everyone was coming back from the pantry, so he got up and went to get the required ingredients.
He dropped them on the table in front of Malfoy and poked the other kid. "Malfoy," he hissed. "Wake up." The blonde jerked, then gave a startled look when he saw the ingredients on the table. The Slytherin looked over at Harry, who had started chopping the mandrake root into careful slices.
Harry ignored the blonde, instead concentrating on the roots he had to chop, the semi-precious gems he had to grind into powder, and the rather disgusting tentacles he had to mash into a paste.
He heard Malfoy moving around him, putting the actual potion together, and was slightly surprised at the way they were working together. It was an interesting experience.
Finally, all the ingredients had been added, and the only thing that remained was to stir the potion for twenty minutes, or until it turned from the icky, brown, gross color it was now to the sapphire blue it was supposed to be. He glanced over at Malfoy and almost laughed at the other boy. He was stirring the potion, true, but languidly and slow- he was almost asleep.
Again.
Harry glanced around and made sure no one was looking before he placed his hand on the other boy's shoulder. Malfoy looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, which lacked its usual hauteur. "You look half dead, Malfoy." He whispered to the blonde.
The Slytherin snorted, and replied, "You don't look much better."
"Yeah, but I'm not falling asleep over a potion. Let me stir. I can do that, at least."
He replied to Malfoy's sneer with, "I promise I'll wake you up if something goes wrong. Besides, if something does happen, I'll get blamed for it anyway."
Malfoy looked at him, assessing the truth of his statement. Finally, he nodded. They switched positions, and Malfoy promptly put his head on the table and went to sleep. Harry chuckled quietly at the boy, rolling his eyes. He didn't notice the questioning glances the rest of the class was sending them, didn't care that Snape was sending him poison filled glances from across the room.
The rest of the twenty minutes passed quickly, Harry's arms aching from the continuous stirring. He was relieved when the potion finally turned the desired color. Once it was sapphire through and through, he stopped stirring and poked Malfoy awake again. The blonde lifted his head and looked the potion over, apparently testing it.
At length, he nodded his approval. He started to bottle up the potion. Usually, Snape only wanted a sample of the potion, and then had you get rid of the rest. However, Malfoy bottled up the whole of the potion, and instead of bringing it up to Snape's desk, he put them right in the closet of finished concoctions.
After cleaning up the desk, Malfoy put his head back down and went back to sleep. As they were the first one's done, they had about half an hour left of class. Harry shook his head. He hadn't expected Malfoy to thank him, but really.
He looked around the class, trying to figure out the progress of the other pairs. Pansy and Hermione were almost done, their potion slightly lighter than the desired color. Theo and Greg had just started stirring, Vince and Millicent were arguing over the order the ingredients go in. Ron was staring at Blaise's back as the boy stirred, and his expression held poorly concealed awe.
Harry chuckled. Blaise had probably awed him with complicated sentences and his knowledge of potions. Dean and Seamus were sending each other flirtatious glances over their cauldron. And even though Neville was paired with Hannah, their potion was still a horrid yellowish color.
Harry felt for them. The class was hard enough when you had a good partner. When you had a bad one, there was little chance of finishing you potion or even getting it right. At last, Snape dismissed the class. Harry turned to wake Malfoy up once again, but the blonde was already sitting up and blinking tiredly.
He bent down to grab his bag, and Harry froze as his shirt shifted enough to show a stretch of the boys neck. It, too, was peppered with bite marks and hickey's. Then Malfoy sat up and stood, stretching. The boy's back cracked several times, and Harry had another flash back, a vision of skin stretched taut over rock hard abs and chest. He shook his head to clear it.
Harry stood and grabbed his bag, intending to meet up with Hermione and Ron, when a hand wrapped around his bicep. He turned to see Malfoy, and was slightly shocked when the boy said, "Potter." That one word held a world of meaning- gratitude, some hostility, and a hesitation. Hesitation about what?
Harry was a little confused, but he inclined his head and replied, "Malfoy." They looked at each other for a moment, assessing, then Malfoy dropped his hand and left. Harry quirked his lips up into a small smile, then went to catch up with his friends.