A/N: This story style tends to fluctuate with whoever's POV it is. This one is Moody, and it's different from last chapter, because that one was Albus' POV. This definitely has a different feel than last chapter. I actually have no idea what happened. I didn't plan for my story to go from T to M so quickly. -Sighs- Ah, well. It's not very funny, either, but it's got a subtle sort of humor in places. Well, I hope.

Anyway, the chapter title is from a Shakespearean sonnet.

A/N2: A big thank you to all my reviewers! You guys rock my world!

Warnings: Cursing and other -blush- stuff, but nothing too graphic

Betaing: I have a beta! I just, er, lost her. So, I'll replace this with the beta'd version later. I figured you guys would want an update.

Disclaimer: -Yawns-

Something was distinctly Not Right.

Alastor Moody, retired Auror and many-times-over war veteran, could feel it in his bones. It wasn't Not Right in the sense that he was about to jump up and curse everything that breathed (Though he could not deny the effectiveness of that course of action.), but it was enough for him to investigate. He set down his cutlery and moved to stand up, but was foiled by his protesting joints. Alright, time to change tactics.

He gave the large hall he was currently dining in a cursory glance. He and his right and left hands, Aurors Tonks and Kingsley, had been invited to lunch at Hogwarts. It wasn't something out of the ordinary, since many Order members dropped by the school to update Dumbledore on the hunt for the few Death Eaters that had scarpered when the war had ended.

He looked at the students. There was Zabini and Malfoy, both sitting with nonchalant elegance that didn't befit the sons of imprisoned Death Eaters. There was Ravenclaw Lisa Turpin, sitting with her boyfriend Justin Flinch-Fletchley, Hufflepuff. Both had fought valiantly to protect the school, and Moody thought that they deserved love. At the Gryffindor table sat the Golden Trio- Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. The last was leaning across the table, and apparently flirting with a flustered but pleased-looking Fred Weasley (Both twins had returned to the school after the war, to appease their mother, who had had kittens when they dropped out in the middle of their Seventh Year.). Moody blinked, then shook his head. Potter and Weasley, however odd a couple, were no concern of his.

His eyes passed over the rest of the student body and swept efficiently up and down the Staff Table. His normal eye was watching the faces of the Hogwarts Faculty. Nothing really odd there, except for the fact that Albus, Minerva, Filius, and Pomona all seemed to be having trouble looking each other in the eye. But really, that was hardly worth noting. While his normal eye was preoccupied with faces, his magical eye carefully examined everything beneath the polished wood of the table, in order to see if any roaming hands were reaching for a wand, or a cursed object-

-there! His eye focused on a white-knuckled hand that was clenched, rather painfully he would imagine, on a black-clad knee. The color of the robes and the spider-like quality the hand had identified who the overly-tense teacher was even before Moody's eyes reached the face.

Snape.

What did the filthy little ex-Death Eater have to be tense about? Oh, yes, Moody knew that Snape was a spy, but he was firm in his belief that spies of all kinds were untrustworthy, and could switch loyalty the moment the scales tipped. Therefore, he did not trust Snape.

"Kingsley, Tonks, look at Snape." Moody hissed at his subordinates, capably making the whisper come out with the effect of a bark. Unfortunately, his unique ability was wasted on his irritatingly noncompliant underlings.

Tonks rolled her eyes, while Kingsley sighed long-sufferingly. "Mad-Eye, for the last time, Snape is not-"

"Shut up and do as I say!"

With the air of two people humoring a doddery old fool, Tonks and Kingsley surreptitiously watched Snape. At first, Mad-Eye could practically feel the barely-paid attention that the two younger Aurors were applying to their task, but gradually their mannerisms changed into those of Aurors who had caught the distinct smell of Not Right.

Maybe they'll finally have gotten enough proof that I know what I'm talking about, Moody thought, with more than a smidge of self-satisfaction. He leaned forward to hiss at them.

"What do you notice?"

Kingsley answered, Tonks busy with gazing sharply around the Great Hall. "He's tenser than he should be, and his gaze keeps flickering somewhere. Tonks is trying to pinpoint what he's looking at."

Tonks gasped quietly. "He's looking at Harry!"

Moody looked at her sharply. "Potter?"

She nodded. "He's watching him flirt with Fred."

Moody and Kingsley checked, and found that she was right. Snape was looking at Potter.

Kingsley frowned. "Think he's a homophobe?"

Tonks shook her head slowly. "No. I heard that Snape was gay."

Moody's mouth twisted into a sneer. "Maybe he's jealous."

Tonks snorted while Kingsley shot him a disgusted half-frown. The trio returned their gazes to Potter. The black-haired teen tilted his head, causing the sunlight to… glint off of the smooth curve of his neck. He almost appeared to glow. He leaned in close to Weasley, who looked dazed by the closeness and noon-time etherealness of the Wizarding Hero. Next to the pair, Granger and the youngest Weasley boy watched in amusement and bemusement, respectively. Potter flashed a brilliant smile at Fred Weasley and rested his hand on the red-head's arm.

A loud scraping noise drew the Dark Wizard-catching trio's attention. Snape stood up from the table abruptly, striding down the hall and out the door swiftly, his robes billowing out behind him. The threesome exchanged looks. Maybe Moody's sordid suggestion had merit… Was Snape jealous? Maybe they should follow him, see what he was up to.

Their decision was made for them when Harry Potter got up from the Gryffindor table, said a hasty goodbye to his friends, and followed Snape out of the hall. They made their excuses to Dumbledore, and the moment they were out of the hall, they had placed disillusionments over themselves.

Potter was slinking off down the corridor that lead to the dungeons, obviously following the quiet, far-off clicking noise that was Snape's boots on the cobblestone. The Aurors, well trained in the art of tailing, followed Potter silently, despite his almost-run. They turned several corners, bypassing the Potions classroom. A flight of stairs brought them down past Snape's office.

They were far below ground, and the air was almost freezing. Moody had to do a quick charm to prevent their breath from being visible in the frigid air. Why on Earth was Snape down here? They saw Potter draw his robes tight around himself and shiver, but the boy didn't slow his pace.

Another set of stairs, the air dropping a few degrees per step. At the bottom of the stairs they saw a long corridor, at the end of which they spotted the tail end of a set of heavy robes whipping out of sight. Potter broke into a full out run, and he opened his mouth to call to the disappearing Potions Master.

"Severus! Stop!"

Potter flew around the corner, Tonks, Moody, and Kingsley right on his heels. Tonks almost tripped upon hearing Snape's name come out of Potter's mouth, but Kingsley caught her by the arm and practically dragged her along.

They came to a stop. They were standing in a cul-de-sac of sorts. The walls of the corridor widened, turning into a round chamber. Torches lit the circular space, revealing barren walls and a wooden door. Snape was leaning against it, back to Potter and the Aurors, breathing heavily. Potter moved forward tentatively, stopping when his hand came to hover above his shoulder.

"Severus?"

A harsh, "What?"

They couldn't see Potter's face, but his voice was tentative. "What's the matter?"

Snape whipped around, anger contorting his features. Potter stumbled away from him, moving off to the side of the chamber. Now they could see his face. He looked scared, but there seemed, for a moment, to be a gleam of triumph in his eyes. Snape, however, seemed not to notice.

"What's the matter? What's the matter? You were just flirting with George-Fucking-Weasley!"

"Fred."

"How could you possibly ask- What?"

"I was flirting with Fred-Fucking-Weasley, not George-Fucking-Weasley."

Potter no longer looked at all scared, instead looking amused and triumphant. Snape was seething.

"I don't care who it was, you were still flirting with him!"

Potter shrugged, pulling the careless gesture off well, despite the fact that the cold had him shaking like a leaf. "I'm a teenager, flirting is what I do."

Snape growled, striding across the room angrily. He pushed on Potter's chest, making the teen's back connect with the wall. He leaned in close, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Not when you're with me you don't. You're mine."

Then he swooped in for a kiss.

It was forceful, a clash of tongue and teeth that would likely leave both participant's lips bruised. Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley all reached for their wands, ready to hex Snape into the next century. However, Potter's hands scrabbled on Snape's back, bringing the bodies closer together. The Aurors paused. That didn't look like the sort of action someone who was about to be raped would take.

Snape's lips wrenched themselves from Potter's, moving to bite and suckle the pale skin of Potter's neck. It glinted in the flickering torchlight the same way it had in the full-on sunlight, making the Aurors wonder if he hadn't put some sort charm on it. Potter placed a hand on Snape's shoulder, the other on a torch bracket, pulling himself up and wrapping his legs around Snape's waist.

It was about then that the trio of Aurors fully realized that they should leave, or stop the gasping men before them, or something, but they could not tear themselves away from the erotic sight. The chill of the dungeon made each short, gasping breath Snape and Potter exhaled mingle in a twining collision of silvery air.

Snape ripped off Potter's shirt, marking the newly-uncovered expanse of flesh with his teeth. In between each bite he panted out a frenzied, "Mine." Potter threw back his head, clenching his hands into Snape's hair, matching Snape's words. "Yours."

Potter angled his hips, grinding them against Snape. Both men moaned. Potter ground again, matching his movements with Snape's biting. Soon the pair weren't moaning, they were yelling.

It was like a furious, erotic dance. Rage, jealousy, and passion whirled in the air in equal parts. A bite. A murmur. A thrust. It built to fever pitch, drawing in the watching Aurors as if they had merged with the angry lovers. Snape bit. Potter cried out. Tonks felt light-headed. Potter ground his hips. Snape moaned. Kingsley felt a rushing, falling sensation. Moody, too, although not as affected, was riveted by the scene before him.

Then, just as the weight of the air itself seemed to be crushing the five –two– of them, Potter and Snape came.

Suddenly the trio of Aurors were themselves again. They were watching, not feeling, Snape bury his head in Potter's neck. The watched, not felt, Potter carefully easing himself to the ground. They did feel the cold, just as Potter did, bare-chested as he was. It came rushing in, almost cruel in it's sharpness after the dull heat and eroticism of what had just passed.

Snape lifted his head, kissing Potter tenderly. It was an unexpected action, especially after the anger he had displayed just moments ago. Even more unexpected an action, he laughed.

"You did that on purpose, you little bugger."

Potter looked at him innocently. "Did what?"

Snape snorted. "Let's get you into my chambers. You look like you're freezing."

Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley watched them disappear through the door and exchanged looks. Without speaking, they picked up their wands, which had fallen to the ground sometime during the- erm- interaction. Still silent, they took one last look at the plain, unobtrusive door in the out-of-the-way depths of Hogwarts.

They left.

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Review please!