CHAPTER 25

A/N:
akai-chou-spirit: Thanks for pointing out the error to me, it has been corrected.

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Dumbledore gazed at the Pensieve thoughtfully. He wondered whether reclaiming it temporarily from Snape would do the trick and bring his two protégés closer together. On inquiring about Harry's progress, he had noticed that Snape had been less inclined to criticise him; and telling Snape that he would like him to instruct Harry for another six months had gone surprisingly well. There had been the usual protests, naturally…Harry was too young, he still had to master Telepathy etc. And he had flushed when Dumbledore had observed that he and Harry had things in common. He had flushed deeply, in fact, and had even averted his gaze for a moment, he, an outstanding Occlumens.

And Harry…Harry had blushed just as much, if not more, as soon as Snape's name had cropped up. Dumbledore, with his keen insight into people and their emotions, was convinced that it was not only the mental magic which was making the two bond. Maybe, he thought as he tenderly dipped a memory into the Pensieve with his wand, he could be more than just a little optimistic.

Snape held the door open for Harry, who thanked him with a sign and looked around the spacious hall of Snape's private quarters. The first thing that struck him was the quantities of books. Shelf after shelf lined one portion of the room.

"There are more books in my private library and laboratory. I need to consult the ones in here on a regular basis," Snape explained, observing Harry's gaze.

A Slytherin banner hung on one wall. The other free walls were stylishly decorated with abstract art, and the furnishings were elegant, their design simple and timeless. If he had expected the place to be gloomy and greenish like the Slytherin common room, then he was mistaken. Snape's hall was well lit with a lot of small floating globes. A huge Persian carpet covered the stone floor near the hearth, which looked very comfortable and inviting. All in all, it was the abode of an extremely bookish man with a solid and attractive sense of taste.

He turned around to Snape, who was watching him closely.

I like it, it's very nice and elegant here.

"Your positive assessment is most flattering, Potter."

He led Harry to the hearth and tapped at the small table in the middle. It immediately became larger and longer. With another flick of his wand, he summoned two chairs.

"I usually either eat at my desk or at the staff table upstairs. Please sit down."

Harry obeyed, and Snape occupied the chair opposite him.

"I believe you have your own house elf, Potter?"

Dobby? He does not belong to me or to anyone, he is free, but he insists on attending to all my needs besides working in the Hogwarts kitchen for a salary.

"How do you summon him?"

Harry took out a small silver whistle which Dobby had given him.

Snape nodded.

"Winky," he said loudly.

To Harry's astonishment, Crouch's former house elf Winky emerged with a crack. She was wearing a spotless dress and apron. There was no trace of Butterbeer on her person.

Snape's mouth curled in a thin smile.

"The cure for her deteriorating condition was to allot a new master to her. She refuses to be paid, but I do hope that your friend Dobby will make her see sense. I have managed to, ah, impose, as she calls it, free weekends on her, which is a minor improvement."

Harry was trying very hard not to stare at Snape with his mouth open. Hermione would probably have hugged Snape if she had witnessed this.

"May I ask you what you are thinking at the moment, Potter?"

Harry, with a grin, told him what he supposed Hermione would do.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I am sure Miss Granger would hesitate to display her approval to such a drastic extent. In addition, I would not fancy Mr Weasley throttling me."

Harry laughed, and Snape politely asked Winky to fetch dinner for two.

Dinner with Snape turned out to be less formal than Harry had envisioned it; he had been going through all his table manners (no elbows on the table, sit straight, don't stuff your mouth etc.) frantically while changing into sober black robes for Snape's benefit. Snape seemed relaxed and more open to conversation than he usually was. Harry's quill was kept fairly busy throughout the meal (delectable lentil soup, chicken curry and rice, among other things). At the same time, there seemed to a certain tension between them, as was manifested by what Harry called "eye speech"; their eye contact was frequently so deep and intense that Harry felt they could have opened a telepathic channel at that time.

"What is your favourite colour, Potter?" Snape asked nonchalantly, placing his fork on his dessert plate.

I've got two, actually. Black and dark-red.

"Red. A true Gryffindor," Snape remarked coolly.

What about yours?

Snape looked directly into Harry's eyes.

"Like you, I quite enjoy black…and green. Emerald green."

Harry didn't know why his cheeks suddenly felt warm and hastily looked down at his plate for a moment, pretending to settle the position of his fork.

A true Slytherin, he quipped.

"Indeed," Snape said softly, putting aside his napkin. "Do you want some more dessert?"

No, thank you, I'm totally full. It was delicious. Thank you very much.

Snape inclined his head in acknowledgement of Harry's thanks.

I would like to return the invitation.

"Would you, Potter? Then go ahead."

Harry could not suppress a smile at Snape's ways of making conversation unconventional.

Saturday evening next week at eight?

"I will be there, Potter," Snape said, a silky note creeping into his voice, "and I will see you tomorrow for my computer lesson."

Said computer lesson arrived, and Harry could hardly believe that he was watching Severus Snape compose an e-mail via e-mail client and via web. He snorted at the names of the people in Harry's address book.

"All Gryffindors," he said unkindly, "and this exclamation mark means that it is a high priority message? Well, it's the only thing which makes sense about this program," he added with his usual stinging sarcasm. In spite of his disapproving remarks, he was learning very quickly. Harry wasn't sure whether this was due to his instructing or, as he rather suspected, due to the man's brilliant brains and grasp of new things. Harry found it both difficult and delightful to teach the person he was becoming increasingly attracted to. He wondered how he could have regarded him as thoroughly detestable in appearance and character for such a long time. He knew, of course, that his changing opinion and views of Snape were responsible for his perceptions; and he could not deny that Snape's attention to his personal appearance had helped matters. Snape thrust his long black hair impatiently out of his face, and a strand became entangled in Harry's spectacles. Snape glared at him.

"Why are you leaning so close to me like that? Kindly disentangle my hair from your glasses," he said rudely.

Harry reciprocated by yanking particularly hard at Snape's hair.

"Potter! You did that intentionally!"

Harry gave him an innocent look as he successfully separated hair and glasses.

Maybe you should cut off all that hair.

Snape seemed to breathe fire. He leant close to Harry, their noses nearly touching.

"Cut off my hair? Cut…? Never!" he whispered.

Harry recalled the black pearl in his dream. The texture of Snape's hair was as smooth as a pearl's…

"In fact, what needs cutting is this uncontrollable mop of yours," Snape remarked, raising his hand and running it slowly, tenderly, unhurriedly through Harry's hair, his mouth close to Harry's. Their gazes locked for a moment before Snape's eyes returned to the computer screen. Another time, Snape shifted and his thigh brushed Harry's. Harry felt no inclination at all to move his chair, however. Besides their eye speech and verbal respectively written quips, Snape's voice was absolutely tantalising. It was like a shawl of liquid silk enveloping Harry without his clothes on. He imagined it caressing the sensitive parts of his body, and the sensation wreaked heavenly havoc in his groin. This state of semi-constant sexual agitation rendered the lesson marvellously torturous. If Snape knew…

After the recalcitrant teacher-pupil left, giving Harry a penetrating gaze out of his deep black eyes, Harry discovered that his libido had reached dangerous levels, sending his body into a frantic frenzy of delicious desire. The region between and around his thighs was actually starting to ache and throb with blatant need. He spent a long time in the cooling confines of his bathtub, soaking in the water, thinking of other things in order to keep his hands off himself. He failed and had to change the bathwater afterwards. Snape had always driven him mad; but he would never have imagined that Snape, of all people, would be responsible for the kind of "insanity" he was currently going through.

That night, the dream of the maze revisited him, except that some of the thorn bushes had been randomly replaced with transparent glass walls. Like the last few times, he was following Snape's whispering voice. He again came across the rose, plucked it and caught the black pearl which slipped out of its centre in his palm. Cupping both to his heart, he finally arrived at the square, only to find a solid glass wall entwined with thorn vines blocking his way. He could see Snape on the other side; and for the first time in all the dreams, the tall feline figure left its position, moving towards him until he was right in front of the glass, staring at Harry on the other side.

"I can't find my way. Please help me."

Then, with a moan:

"No, it is better if you leave. Help me, and you will be an outcast like me."

He walked back towards the square and buried his face in his hands.

Harry pressed his hands against a thorn-free portion of the cold glass, trying to call out to Snape, call out to him to come back, but one of the thorn-encrusted branches shot towards his arm; his reaction came too late; it collided with his hand, making him drop rose and pearl. The dream gave way to dreamless sleep. The next morning, he saw that a small nosebleed had visited him in the night – fortunately without waking him up. He resignedly cleaned his pillow. He was quite an expert at it.

The next lesson Snape introduced a small but important change in their Telepathy proceedings: this time, there would be no Legilimency as a warm-up; instead, they would plunge directly into Telepathy.

"And we shall not sit this time, Potter. You and I will stand like this, without the desk between us. I want to see how you manage without supporting yourself anywhere. Send me a message."

Both wizards concentrated, and soon Harry could see that oscillating curtain, although it seemed fainter to him.

Ensnarer of the senses, Harry managed to whisper, trying, like Snape, to lend a seductive quality to his words, accentuating the sibilants, lengthening the vowels subtly and trying to make his mental voice sound whispery; then he had to break the connection before the giddiness overwhelmed him. He knew that if he didn't pull back, he would feel sick onto the point of throwing up.

He looked at Snape, whose cheekbones were delicately flushed. The dark eyes glinted, and the admittedly arrogant lips parted in a sensual smile. His eyes travelled over Harry's figure, and Harry felt as if Snape was undressing him with his gaze, stripping him leisurely and enjoying the view.

"Someone is learning fast," he murmured, "my turn, now. I shall truly ensnare your senses."

He fairly attacked Harry's eyes with his own, imprisoning them forcefully, opening the channel between them.

Feel my voice caressing your mind, Harry. It is like hands touching your body, caressing you like you have caressed yourself…I am like water flowing over your body, reaching every part of you…

Harry clung to the words, determined to maintain the telepathic connection. The intensity of Snape's gaze increased so much that it seemed to crackle; Harry held on. Then a hand covered his eyes.

"More than passable, Potter," Snape whispered, removing his hand. They stared at each other, both flushed and breathing fast, especially Harry.

"Are you aroused?" Snape asked softly.

Harry went crimson.

"I will take that as a yes," Snape said. "You will get used to it and gradually stop being aroused. You did not stagger or stumble. You maintained the connection. Please go over to the couch and think of your cousin's eating habits."

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