Harry closed his eyes, wondering for a moment if the sequence of events currently playing out before him were indeed real.
Snape's finger danced over the bite mark he had christened on to Harry's neck. In a moment it seemed that the rest of his fingers had joined in before tangling themselves around the young wizard's neck.
What was Snape doing?
Harry's eyes bolted open as the pressure began to tighten around his windpipe, ceasing the flow of vital oxygen into his lungs.
Every piece of logic told him that he should be afraid, his body should be unleashing itself in a fit of panic, yet his body seemed to be responding in a way he hadn't expected at all.
Harry felt himself growing hard as his body became starved of oxygen. He was now entirely at the mercy of Snape's hand, yet the fear of death seemed to be absent from his heart. A part of him wanted to grasp the professor's fingers and tighten their hold even further, the other part wanted nothing more than the drag them down his body, to attend to his growing problem downstairs.
"Does this feel good Potter?" Snape stated, his voice oozing with confidence. It was as though he already knew the answer, not that any part of him expected the boy to answer honestly.
Harry reached for the man's free hand before drawing it to his lips. He felt as though he were close to the edge of a strange world, one that it seemed only Snape and him understood. The young wizard sunk his teeth into the professor's fingers. He didn't want to stop until he achieved his goal of drawing blood. The room around him seemed to be growing dimmer, yet he refused to let this stop him on his suddenly important mission.
Why did he want to sink his teeth into Snape's flesh so badly?
Was it revenge?
The physical manifestation of a hatred that had been brewing for years?
No.
He shook his head, seemingly unable to answer his own question as black spots began to cloud his vision.
What was this beast Snape was awakening within him?
Harry suddenly felt the tightness dissipate from around his neck, its warm embrace fused with suffocating hold was now at an end. The young wizard gasped for a sudden intake of air, it was as though he had suddenly remembered how to breath.
What was wrong with him?
It was only then that he suddenly remembered about the hardness between his legs.
Damn it.
He had to go now, before Snape figured out what was happening to him.
Harry grabbed his bag and bolted for the door. He had to get out of here, what was becoming of him? As soon as he reached the door he grabbed the handle and yanked it with all his might. Only realising in that moment that his efforts were in vain.
The door was locked.
Of course it was, he had watched Snape lock it himself with his wand only moments earlier. But then why was he so surprised?
Harry groaned as he felt his feet give way under him, his body sliding slowly down the door until he collapsed against the floor of the potion's classroom.
The echo of footsteps grew steadily louder, he knew Snape was drawing towards him, yet his body refused to move.
He was trapped.
"Unlock the door." Harry muttered, his words barely above a whisper as his fists slid hopelessly down the wooden surface.
"Mr Potter," Snape began, his form inching ever closer to the young wizard on the floor.
"Give me your hand."
Harry's body seemed to have a new commander as his arm obeyed the deep, drawn out voice without hesitation.
Snape ran the tip of his wand over Harry's scars, his skin knitting together before reforming as though no scar had existed in the first place.
"This will be our little secret Mr Potter." Snape drawled, his voice as smooth as silk before releasing the boy from within his grasp and unlocking the door.
Harry glanced up at the man, was he referring to the scars on his wrist or something more?
Had he perhaps somehow noticed the hardness between his legs?
Harry decided it was best not to know as he rose to his feet and fled from the room.
*~.~*
"Are you okay?" Ron whispered, raising a concerned eyebrow as he watched his friend all but collapse into the seat across from him.
"Yeah." Harry muttered, attempting to make his words come out as convincing as possible.
"What did Snape want with you? He was acting very strangely all lesson, not that he isn't always strange." Ron rolled his eyes as he leaned in closer, as though expecting his best friend to reveal some secret he didn't want everyone else to be privy to.
"You know Snape, any little thing he can use to belittle me." Harry began as he reached for several roast potatoes, wasting no time in piling them onto his plate.
"Never mind Snape." Hermione interrupted as he slapped today's copy of the daily prophet in front of him.
"What is it?" Harry and Ron both questioned in unison as they turned their attention to the newspaper.
Hermione took a deep breath as though contemplating whether to tell them or whether to wait for them to read the article of concern.
Several moments passed in silence.
"What is the meaning of this?" Harry gasped, suddenly loosing his appetite as he read line after line accusing him of lying about Voldemort's return.
"It's because Fudge doesn't want to accept that you know who is back." Hermione whispered, attempting to console her best friend.
Harry closed his eyes, he should have expected this yet, how could this happen? He saw him with his own eyes, he watched him rise from the cauldron in that awful graveyard.
"I have to go." Harry's voice was shaking as he rose from the table, though he couldn't tell if it was from panic or rage, or perhaps a combination of both.
"W-wait Harry!" Hermione called out after the dark-haired wizard but it was no use as she watched her friend walk away.
How could this be happening?
Harry's heart pounded as his pace towards the exit of the great hall increased. Yet despite this, the doorway never seemed to get any closer.
He persevered, determined to vacate the great hall before anyone seized the opportunity to interrogate him about the Daily Prophet article.
Especially Draco Malfoy.
He was almost there. Salvation lay within those empty corridors beyond the doorway.
Yet, despite finally making it to the safety of the corridor, he still felt compelled to run, run as far as his legs would carry him.
He craved the one object that still resided under his bed at the Dursley's.
His faithful dagger.
This year had barely begun and he felt as though he wouldn't be able to cope as he finally collapsed in an small abandoned corridor.
He needed someone who understood him in a way no one else did.
Someone who would play out his darkest fantasies yet keep his deepest secrets.
He needed someone he could trust, someone who was also all too familiar with that pit of despair and hopeless that seemed to have found itself at home within his heart.
He closed his eyes as his heart searched for that one person.
"Mr Potter." Snape drawled, seeming almost delighted that he had stumbled upon the boy.
Harry gasped as the realisation suddenly dawned upon him.
No.
It couldn't be.
Why did it have to be this way?
Snape was that person.