Chapter Two: Machine

No longer mourn for me when I am dead

Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell

Give warning to the world that I am fled

From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:

Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that writ it; for I love you so

That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot

If thinking on me then should make you woe.

O, if, I say, you look upon this verse

When I perhaps compounded am with clay,

Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.

But let your love even with my life decay,

Lest the wise world should look into your moan

And mock you with me after I am gone.

Sonnet LXXI, William Shakespeare

"Potter, I suggest you stop trying to provoke me."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Professor."

"Cease that infernal racket," Snape said, glaring at Harry's biro, which had just been clanging against the metal leg of his chair.

This wasn't going as Harry intended. He didn't intend to be enraged at the very sight of Snape or make him suffer for the dreams, the questions, the desperation that has haunted him since Snape made that seemingly small revelation. But he couldn't help it. Gone was the desire he'd once felt, only to be replaced by blood curdling fury.

And so he tapped, tapped, tapped that pen.

Snape sighed. "What, exactly, are you trying to accomplish?"

"Nothing. It's a habit."

"It's infuriating, not to mention distracting."

"It's a habit, I can't help it."

"Have you no concept of classroom decorum?"

"Do you have any concept of not being a complete git?"

Harry's voice reverberated in the silence of the room, and he forgot about the twenty other people there. Snape's face tensed even more than Harry thought possible, eyes glittered, his hand clasping the desk behind him like he was holding back, and Harry was scared for half a second.

Slowly, "Get out of my classroom."

Harry shook his head. "You can't chuck me out, I pay to go to this school, my money makes up your salary-"

"Shut up!" Snape roared. Then, he was quiet and slow again. "And get out." Harry's blood boiled, but the fierceness of that whisper promised defeat in the end, so he shoved his books off his desk just to give Snape a lasting pain in his arse, grabbed his rucksack, and moved toward the door.

"Potter." Harry considered ignoring him, but he was curious.

"What?" he shot back rudely, turning around.

"Detention. Friday, seven o'clock."

When Harry slammed the door shut behind him, the muted sound of Snape's voice ("Close your mouth before you catch flies, Nott") deepened his rage, made him want to scream. He slid down the wall to the floor and breathed deeply between his knees.

"What the fuck was that?" Theo was the only one who dared to ask.

"Would you kindly fuck off?" Harry didn't see the small flinch in the boy's face. He sat beside Harry on his four poster anyway.

"Is something wrong? Did Snape do something to you?"

"You're wasting your time, Theo," Harry said, staring blankly at nothing. "I'm not going to open up to you," Harry said with disgust. "There's nothing to open up about. Snape's just a git and I don't like him."

Before Theo could answer, Draco, Blaise, and Gregory walked into the room and gathered around Harry's bed.

"I don't know if that was apart of your plan, Potter, but this better fucking work," Gregory started, "I'm failing every one of those quizzes." Snape had begun giving short quizzes on the reading at the start of every class.

"I just did that to get detention with him, you idiot," Harry lied easily. "That way we'll be alone."

"Nice," Blaise complimented, cracking open a window and pulling a cigarette from his snuffbox.

"What are you going to do once you've got him alone?" Draco asked.

I have no idea. "He'll see," Harry said, repressing a shudder. He hadn't felt so much, so intensely, in a long, long time. Revolting.

That evening, the football team from Hogwarts's neighbouring rival school, Durmstrang, was due to arrive for the first match of the year taking place the next day. The party afterward was always a highlight of the season, and Harry bitterly suspected it was no accident that his detention was scheduled at the exact time the celebrations would start.

The students from both schools knew each other well and the competition was mostly friendly, so that night in the rooms,t he atmosphere was lazy, the Durmstrang boys setting up their sleeping bags on the floor, calling it an early night to save energy for the game.

Unfortunately for Harry, they were all straight save for one; Viktor Krum. He was above Harry a year and they'd known each other since he'd started at Hogwarts. Whenever he came, he tried getting off with Harry before trying with anyone else. And so, he was hardly surprised when the tall, dark-headed boy approached his bed.

"Hello," he said pleasantly, looking down at Harry with a smile on his face.

"What do you want, Krum?" Harry said, looking around to make sure everyone was distracted. Being gay to get a teacher sacked was one thing. Being gay because you're gay, though... Most of the boys in his year knew what he was and it was acceptable as long as he didn't flaunt it.

"What every boy wants," he replied and smirked.

Harry very much wanted to reject him, but with what had happened in the last few days and with so little options left at Hogwarts, Krum might be what he needed. "I'll think about it," he said, looking away.

Viktor sat on the bed and bent to do up the laces of his trainers. "Let me convince you," he said quietly. "I'm going to the kitchens," he spoke a little louder now. "Wanna come?" he winked. Harry rose silently, catching Theo's staring eyes as he left the room.

"Astronomy tower?"

"No, the professors are always checking there."

Harry thought about leading Viktor into a broom cupboard, but shuddered at the idea and picked an empty classroom instead. When Viktor moved to turn the light on, Harry stopped him. "Someone might see," he explained. And I don't want to see you.

Krum held his head and kissed him slowly and softly the moment they closed the door.

"Really, Krum?" Harry said when they broke apart.

"What?" he said, confused.

"I'm getting a bit tired of you," Harry pouted very slightly. "So you're going to have to make this interesting."

Krum snorted. He grabbed Harry by the hair abruptly, pushing him clumsily backward into a desk, kissing him faster. Harry moaned appreciatively, muttering "that's right," when they broke. Otherwise he was silent, fingers twisting into his partner's belt loops, pulling him closer, rubbing against him in all the right places. Krum kept making noises and Harry just wished he'd shut up.

He felt a hand on the top of his head, pushing him down. If Krum had been an older man he'd been fortunate enough to snatch up, he would have went down on his knees gladly. But Krum was not an older man. He reached up and pulled the hand away. "I'll suck your cock when and if I want to."

"Please?" Krum whined, pulling them closer again.

"Shut up."

Afterwards, they both laid silent on a bed of sorts that they'd made by pushing desks together. Harry didn't want to move, wished he could sleep there.

"You don't make noise," Krum said suddenly, his voice sounding strange. "Whenever we've done this, you've always been really, really quiet."

"A lot of people don't make noise," Harry said softly.

"Fair enough," Krum said, drumming the table with his fingers.

Durmstrang won the game the next day, but most of the boys didn't care too much and still looked forward to the party afterwards. Harry liked to drink on nights like these because they reminded him of the time he found his father's name in the Trophy Room. So it was with deep annoyance that he made his way to Snape's classroom, a fear in his heart of what the man would do tonight to his comfortable numb.

When Harry reached the door, he stopped and realised he hadn't even come up with a plan of action. Snape's voice seeped through the wood. "Are you going to stand there all night, Potter?" Too late.

"You're late." Snape's tone was clipped, different from during lectures. He was annoyed. "You'll stay the extra fifteen minutes."

Harry said nothing, sitting in the desk directly opposite Snape's.

"I believe I should start by...apologising," he said stiffly.

Harry was shocked. "What?"

"I may have...assumed too much when I decided to tell you I went to school with your father."

Harry flinched. "You, you're practically green with disgust at apologising."

"I am not accustomed to pleading guilty."

"Do it more often," Harry said. "People will like you better."

The corner of Snape's mouth pulled upwards by a fraction and Harry felt high for having been the cause of it for a moment. He'd never seen anything even resembling a smile on Snape's face. It looked good on him.

Silence. "However, I cannot forget the fierceness of your reaction." Harry hardened.

"You already admitted you assumed too much. Don't make the same mistake twice."

"Let's leave that judgment to me.

"I'd really rather not." Harry thought about leaving but he felt frozen in place.

"All you have to do," Snape rose and moved to the front of his desk "is tell me why you were so vehemently against speaking of your parents." They both said nothing for minutes on end, but there was so much noise in Harry's head. "I could sit here all-"

"I just don't want to think about them!" he blurted.

"Why not?"

"What?"

"Why do you not want to think about your parents?"

"Because," Harry couldn't think why, "because..." Nobody had ever asked him these questions. People just avoided mentioning his parents full stop. He didn't have answers prepared. He wanted to be angry, he was sure somewhere deep inside he was furious, but as he considered the man's question, all he could feel was the hollowness inside the shield Snape was knocking on. He waited. "Because there's no point. I can't change what happened." It seemed like a healthy answer.

Snape just looked at him. "Why do you not want to think about your parents?"

"I just told you," Harry said stiffly, his temper finally flaring. Even though this is what he'd been dreading, he felt relieved to feel the bubbling inside of him, like when a fish that looks dead twitches with life in the tank.

"You're lying to me."

"No, I'm not!" Harry sputtered, outraged.

"I could hear you thinking about that answer, Potter. I do not want a response you have automated for an adult's consumption because you think it'll satisfy me or convince me to leave you alone. It will not work." Harry glared at the man, saying nothing, wondering if he was reading his mind somehow. "Now, answer the question. Why do you not want to think about your parents?"

Harry searched and searched. " I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

Harry shook his head. "I don't know, I just get angry."

"Angry at what?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"When do we ever want to talk about these things, Harry?"

This made Harry finally look up a Snape. He leaned against the desk behind him much like he did in class, and to avoid thinking about anything important, Harry admired the masculine beauty of his professor's long legs, the straight, exquisite line they made against their background. It jolted him into remembering why he was even here. If he was going to seduce Snape, they had to at least be on speaking terms. Frustrated, Harry silently cursed the man. Why does he have to be so bloody difficult?

"Listen," he started, keeping his voice soft, "I've been through this before. Therapists, social workers...I don't need this. I appreciate it, really, but..."

Snape nodded. "I understand. If all of that had worked for you, I'm sure I would not have been capable of eliciting such a furious response at the mention of your parents. Regardless, I think I can provide a different perspective for you, especially considering I knew both your parents..."

"You knew my mother as well?" Harry said, caught off guard for what seemed like the thousandth time in this man's presence.

"We lived in the same neighbourhood in Surrey. Growing up, we spent all our summers together."

"What-" Harry sliced the question to a stump before he could fully form it in the air. What was she like?

"She was the sweetest woman I have ever known."

Harry closed his eyes and put his head down. If this was going to work, if he was going to ruin this bastard's career, he had to play his part. "I'm angry. Angry at them." He couldn't say anymore, because it was true.

"For abandoning you?"

Harry nodded, keeping his head down, eyes still closed. It'd been a long time since he had to fight off so much feeling. It wasn't working. It was clawing up from his stomach, begging to be turned out.

He opened his eyes. "I know- I know, it's not their fault, that they never decided to leave me or anything but I just," he sighed "I can't help it."

"It's an explanation you created as a child, to deal with what happened, to have someone to blame" Snape said. "You don't need to believe it anymore." Harry had never thought it that way before. "Your parents loved nothing in the world better than they loved you."

Before Harry had even realised Snape was approaching him, he was being handed a photograph, his head level with his professor's stomach. "This a picture that Lily sent me shortly after you were born. You can have it." Harry reached for the picture, and with his other hand held on to Snape's. He felt Snape tense as if he were about to pull away, but Harry was too engrossed in the photo to care. It was of his mother, with her baby in her arms. She was beautiful.

"Thank you," Harry said. He pulled Snape's hand toward his mouth and kissed his knuckles. It was an odd thing to do, but Snape only swallowed visibly, no expression on his face, and reclaimed his hand.

"You can go now," he said. "And remember what brought you here, Potter. Don't pull a stunt like that in my classroom ever again. It will not go unpunished."

"Yes, Professor." Polite.

Snape stepped away as Harry left his seat, retreating back to his desk. Harry left, fighting back the turmoil that started and burned in the pocket of his trousers where he'd stowed the first real image of his mother he'd ever come across. Instead, a smile forced its way onto his face as he thought of Snape's bobbing Adam's apple. A brilliant start.

Severus Snape sat at his desk, pondering the strange teen that had just left his classroom. He could still feel the boy's lips against his hand, puzzled as to what it was about. Considering Harry's past, which Snape was well aware of from substantial study of his file, he'd think that Potter would be scared of physical touch rather than akin to it...

Even though he felt like he'd made some progress in ingratiating himself with the boy, there was just something about him that seemed off...something completely impenetrable in his eyes, something wild and numb in his countenance, something terrible racketing around in those perfect bones.

For they were perfect bones, even he could not deny it. Harry Potter had taken the best from both his parents (even his deplorable father) in a combination heavenly enough to make people blind to the raging demon beneath that golden skin. But Severus wasn't blind.

His thumb brushed over the knuckles of his other hand, the site of Harry's kiss. I don't like the way he looks at me, he thought. There's something wrong with the way he looks at me.