Disclaimers: You've read all this before. None of the things that are copyrighted here belong to me…else I'd have more money than the none I currently possess. I hope you're enjoying this story. I'm definitely enjoying writing it. And I'm even updating frequently. That's because it's all written weeks before I put it up. I know…you want it all now. But if I put it up just like that…I won't get anything extra out of you and your review writing hands…

Chapter 2: The Storming of Poor June

It's all a dream. It's all a dream. It's all a…

Harry let his eyes flicker open slowly to find himself face to face with Draco. He swallowed softly and tried to shrink into his pillows.

"Good morning, Potter…"

Draco leant further forwards, closing the distance between them and Harry quickly moved to push the other boy back.

"Not now, Draco…I haven't even brushed my teeth."

"I don't mind…I've got morning breath too."

Harry growled softly, "something which I would rather live without tasting…"

Ron groaned and rolled over in his bed. He always required some coaxing to get out of bed in the morning – and while he was in bed he certainly didn't want to hear about Harry and his rival sharing morning breath.

Draco finally seemed to understand what had been happening with the redhead's unhappy noise and pushed himself to his feet, turning away from Harry.

"We really have to get this sorted out…" the Slytherin groaned.

"You think?" Harry asked, rhetorically as he kicked his blankets back and slipped out of bed. Ron chose this exact moment to slide out of bed too and Harry let out a muffled cry and covered his eyes. Draco turned around to find out what Harry had made such a noise for and seconds later found himself curled up and tugging at his hair. He didn't want to see that…not one bit of it.

Ron frowned and looked down very, very slowly. It took him a few moments – but he was soon the same color as his own hair and hidden underneath the covers again.

"I swear I wore some to bed!" Ron cried – glaring at Harry who was muttering about erasing his own memory and things like 'I'm never going to be able to see again.'

Draco growled – still from his place underneath the bed. "Well then you should swear you're wearing some before you get out of bed next time…for our sakes."

Harry shook his head and finally stood up. "I'm getting dressed…" he finally decided. "Maybe then there's more of a chance of that not happening."

Ron nodded and – with a blanket wrapped about him – began rummaging through his trunk for some clothes.

Within ten minutes the entire group was dressed and had made their morning visit to the toilet. They collected in the dormitory on their beds and waited for the sounds from downstairs which would announce that Lucius or Snape had arrived to take them to breakfast.

Draco sighed and stretched out on the bed slowly, closing his eyes. He let out a cry as Harry leapt onto him. There was a pained expression on his face as though he was desperately trying to fight something deep inside him. Draco struggled against the other for a few moments – his eyes wide as Harry closed the distance between them and kissed him as hard and as furiously as he could.

Ron let out a disgusted noise from his bed and then tried to pry his friend from his enemy.

Draco let another gagged noise and struggled all the harder until Harry had been tugged off him and pushed to the other side of the room.

"Get some control of your hormones, boys…" Ron reprimanded the two and then yawned again, slipping towards the door and opening it – peering down to where the temporary Slytherins were being lined up below.

Draco glared at Harry. "It's happening to you too…if we don't find out what is happening soon the whole day's going to be filled with us kissing…"

"I don't think so…remember, whoever's doing this is also trying to get me in bed with Snape…and possibly everyone else in the school…" Harry had noticed the way some of the other boys had been looking at him – and some of the teachers too.

"Come on, guys…we'll figure out who it is after breakfast. I'm starving."

Harry suddenly remembered that he was terrified of going to breakfast. He had an odd feeling that Voldemort would be there.

The feeling wasn't wrong.

The moment Harry entered the Great Hall he was forced to clutch his scar in pain, collapsing to his knees in the doorway. Draco and Ron went to help him up but paused as they leant down to do so. The lines parted and even Ron and Draco slipped back from Harry as Voldemort came up before him.

"It's nice to see loyal servants fall to their knees at the sight of me." Voldemort purred, delighted to see Harry there. He reached out one hand and lifted the student up into the air, gazing from his cloak out at him. "Tell me…have you started on a plan to retake the school yet?"

Harry shook his head as best he could. His scar hurt so much! He could barely even talk and he hadn't tried yet.

"Well…I'll know when you think of one, remember." Voldemort dropped the youth to the floor and turned away, letting his distant, glowing eyes fix on Draco for a few moments. "Keep both your eyes on him."

Draco nodded and pulled Harry back to his feet quickly, glancing after the retreating Voldemort. He was beginning to think that trying to help Harry figure out what was going on was going to be too risky a job for him to participate in. But if Snape could lie to his master for all these years…why couldn't he?

Harry looked dazed and confused. His scar wasn't stopping it's aching even with Voldemort being turned away from him. He realized that he was going to have to get used to the symptom instead. What puzzled him was the fact that he was still standing. If Voldemort knew that he was planning to try to overthrow him…then why wasn't he already dead? Perhaps Voldemort had such faith in his own power to hold the school just as Dumbledore had.

Harry had an inkling that Voldemort would be able to hold the school just as well as Dumbledore ever could – just because he was now inside it.

Breakfast went dreadfully slowly for an hour. All the students who had joined the Slytherins yesterday were present now. It was obvious that the Death Eaters acknowledged the fear factor that their master ignited in the hearts of all those who might revolt. After all when the most powerful killer in the world was sat just ten meters from your seat…it was kind of intimidating. It was even terrifying to Harry – who sat trembling all the way through the meal.

Harry was relieved when he finally escaped the hall at the end of the meal. They'd all been given their new timetables – which Harry noticed detachedly kept him with Draco at all times. He still had Potions, Transfiguration and Charms – but now he also had a thrice weekly session called Private which he assumed would be alone time with a Death Eater and in replace of Defense Against the Dark Arts classes he instead had Dark Arts classes. He found that morbidly humorous.

Ron wasn't with him for most of his new classes. Added to that Ron had only one Private session every fortnight. Dark Arts classes seemed to take up more of the time than any other lesson, Harry realized.

Just as Harry thought he'd escaped the great hall to go to his first lesson – a hand fell on his shoulder, holding him back. Draco – who was watching him carefully made a hasty bow and slipped off beside Ron even though he was going to a completely different room.

Voldemort pulled Harry around and pushed him into the small room beside the Great Hall with strength that the younger hadn't expected from such an old man. As he was released he quickly put some distance between himself and Voldemort.

Even as Harry lifted his hand to his burning scar, Voldemort was sliding his hood back. He wasn't really sure why he was doing it. Underneath he was far less threatening – an old man with skin taught around fossilized bones. Except he wasn't. As Voldemort pushed back his hood he could feel the long, dark hair underneath that hadn't been in place for so long. His eyes still glowed ominously – he could feel that that was the same – but as he ran his hand over his cheek distractedly he noticed that his flesh was all as soft as when he was eighteen.

What was going on in this school?

Noticing that the Potter boy was eyeing him curiously, he lifted his head and tried to regain his superior look.

"So…you want to pretend to be on my side, do you, Harry?"

Harry hated when Voldemort called him by his first name. It made him miss his parents.

Voldemort slipped slowly forwards. "Well if you want to pretend then what are you waiting for. On your knees."

Harry slipped down to his knees unhappily – but he kept his eyes on Voldemort, angrily.

Voldemort smiled slowly and moved his hand to Harry's cheek, turning his head so that he faced the ground. "You don't look at your superiors…"

Harry swallowed, telling himself that he needed to not be furious. There would be no chance if he ended up locked up in the Hufflepuff dormitories.

"Now…" Voldemort purred, slinking slowly in a motion about the room. "Strip for me."

Harry's eyes flickered back up and he slowly stood up, gazing incredulously at Voldemort. He forced himself to speak.

"Really…I can't believe you're letting this pathetic spell overpower you."

The elder, dark haired wizard merely smiled darkly at the other. "If it's a spell that makes you so alluring to me – then I'm glad I'm falling under it."

Harry looked back to the floor and slowly lifted his hands to his robes, beginning to undo the few buttons. He could not believe this was happening. Somehow he could understand Snape fawning over him – even Draco…but Voldemort. This was completely mad! What kind of sicko was dreaming this up?

The Gryffindor pushed his cloak back over his shoulders and then pulled the jumper off from underneath. Maybe if he was as slow as possible someone would interrupt him before he was finished. He reached his shirt. Damnit…why wasn't there anyone around. He couldn't even hear any footsteps in the hall.

Painfully slowly he began to undo the buttons of his shirt, still looking nervously from the door to Voldemort. The wizard didn't seem to be breaking out of the spell as yet – and nobody was anywhere near that door.

Harry groaned and pushed his shirt off his shoulders, one at a time before letting the material slide down his arms and fall to the floor. He shivered. It was definitely cold in here…almost ghostly.

It was just as Harry reached for the buttons of his trousers that he was interrupted by the sound of chains rattling in the room. Voldemort noticed it to – he lifted his eyes to the ghost who had suspended his little show.

The ghost looked almost frightened as he saw the Potter boy and Voldemort together. He glided back a little and then disappeared swiftly through the wall again with a cry that sounded like a banshee that had just been struck by another one.

Voldemort turned his eyes back to Harry – but when he saw what the other was doing he lifted his wand before him.

Harry shook his head slowly and reached down to get his shirt from the floor. "It's the spell."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and stepped forwards. "Which kind of sick wizard would cast a spell like that…?" he asked – losing all of the threatening mastery he'd had before. Even his voice seemed like he'd forgotten what he was meant to be.

"I'm not sure…but trust me I'm trying to figure it out."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes slowly. "How many people have tried to get you to strip?"

"None yet…the rest of them seemed to be intent on undressing me themselves. Now if you'll excuse me…" Harry pulled on his robes and made for the door. "I'm going to leave before you get another chance to plaster me to the floor…"

The elder wizard wisely held his ground and let the other leave.

Harry slunk into Potions more than fifteen minutes after the rest of the class had arrived. He received a great yell from, Snape, naturally. But after informing the Professor the reason why he was late – and avoiding any mention of being naked as he suspected that Snape might make another move at any time he wanted – he received an order to sit down, shut up and listen. He obeyed quite happily to Snape's curiosity, even adding a 'Yes Sir.'

Draco looked at him oddly for a few moments, trying to figure out why Harry was acting in such a strange way. And then – after deciding that it was probably something to do with Voldemort – he decided it would be much safer to take up the discussion back in the dormitories.

Snape was working them all incredibly hard this afternoon. He had every student leaning over their cauldrons for almost an hour, stirring and stirring and pouring in various ingredients. He informed them that the cauldrons had to be the exact right color at every point of the process. Harry realized distantly that this was probably meant to be the case in every single one of the potions. Ingredients should only be added when the last stage was done perfectly and the potion reached the correct hue, temperature and thickness.

Harry shook his head. If Snape had told him this in first grade he might possibly be doing well in potions. Oh! That was the point. Damn him!

In between changing ingredients, Harry's eyes were fixed furiously on Snape. He thought that he should be trying to convey the fact that he hated him for hiding that simple bit of information for so long. Shortly afterwards, Snape also showed his students that they shouldn't be stirring so quickly with certain ingredients and so on. With such information, Harry decided, even Neville could pass potions. It wasn't so difficult after all.

Snape finally caught his gaze and came over, gazing down over his crooked nose at the scarred student sat beside his cauldron.

"What's the problem, Mr. Potter?" he asked, lazily – a smirk moving over his lips.

"I thought you should know that I hate you…you could have told us that at any time and we would have been making perfect potions in every class…"

"Oh…but that would have spoilt all the fun. If you'd just read some extra potions books you might have found out that information yourself. You could have surprised me with your vast knowledge of hue and viscosity."

Harry shook his head. Words like 'viscosity' made him feel a little light-headed.

"If you join me after class, Mr. Potter…I could show you a little more about how the right temperature will help you achieve anything…"

Harry swallowed and shook his head slowly. "N-no…I think I'll survive with what knowledge I have already…"

Snape leant closer so that Harry could feel his breath fall on his face. It didn't smell as bad as Harry expected it to. "You know…I think it would be much better for you to have a little extra help…"

Draco took this exact moment to notice what was happening and jumped in for Harry's benefit. "Harry and I have things to do after classes end, Sir."

Harry glanced, relieved at Draco and then looked back to Snape. "Yes…things to do."

Snape narrowed his eyes slowly and finally leant back from the table. "Hope I don't find a reason to put you in detention…that way I'll have a perfectly good way to get you back here…alone." He shot a look that said 'I'll get revenge' to Draco and then went back to the front of the class.

The Gryffindor let a long sigh of relief and lifted a hand to cover his eyes. "Thanks, Draco…"

"My pleasure…" there was a hiss in Draco's voice that Harry didn't like much at all – and when he looked up he barely had time enough to take a breath before Draco's lips found their way to his and began to work heatedly against them.

Harry swallowed and tried to push Draco back repeatedly – but he wasn't strong enough to overpower him at all – much less at such an unfortunate angle.

The thing that broke the two of them apart was Snape's almost jealous sounding voice from the other side of the room. "I will not have two students eating each other in my classroom."

Draco automatically flushed a terrible shade of red and leapt back into his seat, leaving a flustered Harry to clean his face up with his sleeve and go back to his potion.

Harry distantly understood something haunting as he gazed across at Snape once more. The Slytherin was slowly becoming his alter ego. Harry swallowed and looked back to his potion, slipping in the beetle wings and beginning to stir slowly. Snape wasn't breaking out of the spell-induced trance. Would that mean that everyone else would become that which was being hinted at when they lost control?

Harry stretched uneasily in his seat and finally turned off his potion when it turned black. That was what he was meant to do after all. When the beetle wings were finally absorbed they would turn whatever they were put into black and then you could add another ingredient – or finish there knowing that your potion was complete and all the ingredients were properly added.

Besides…it looked quite cool.

Harry was beginning to develop an idea. Maybe if he were to encourage the Professor a little – when Draco joined the ranks of the unstoppable – he would be able to start a fight amongst them.

The dark haired boy ran a hand through his hair and yawned before he stood up. "Permission to show the Professor my potion."

Snape's eyes narrowed somewhat on Harry and he stood up from his desk slowly. "I'm on my way. Sit down, Potter."

Harry sat down and waited for Snape to join him. Thankfully his dark haired Professor came to his side of the table.

"You know…" Harry murmured softly so that only Snape could hear. "This potions almost as black as your eyes."

Severus leaned a little closer. He wasn't paying that much attention to the potion at all. "And you've noticed my eyes, have you, Potter?"

"Please call me Harry…" the younger murmured huskily. "And of course I've noticed your eyes. There's nothing more beautiful."

Snape almost lifted an eyebrow, he moved so that his eyes gazed straight into Harry's. Harry noticed that most of the students in the class were watching him now, including Draco. It was awful to feel their eyes on him with the task that he had to achieve.

Slowly, Harry lifted one hand to run slowly into Severus' hair and settle against the back of his head. The hair felt oddly soft and silky running through his fingers. Feeling almost pained by his final actions, Harry pulled Snape forwards, moving his lips against the other's pale ones. The Professor moaned softly into Harry's mouth, deepening the kiss with his tongue to Harry's momentary disgust before he stole himself for it. He lifted his own tongue and let it battle with Snape's for a few moments before he withdrew from the kiss, trying not to seem as though he were moving back too quickly.

Snape pulled himself back up, straightening his robes as he did so and smiling darkly. "I don't think I'll need to put you in detention, Mr. Potter. Your potion's perfect…"

Harry was relieved when Snape returned to his desk and he was allowed to leave the classroom. The rest of the students all gazed at him nervously – walking some distance from him. All except Draco who linked an arm about his and made Harry walk twice as fast as he wanted to for the lunch hall.

When they got there – Harry sunk silently into a chair while Draco slipped down onto the bench opposite and glared at Harry. When Ron arrived a few moments later he noticed the tension immediately.

"What's going on…?"

Draco snorted and spoke before Harry could even open his mouth. "Harry's getting effected by the spell. He just snogged Snape so hard I thought he'd make the Professor have a heart attack."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy in your voice?" Harry asked, finally with his eyes lifted towards the other two.

Ron looked a little confused and he looked to Harry slowly. "You just snogged Snape?"

"Yes…you'll know why later."

Ron would have fallen off his chair if his hands weren't clasped to the seat. His knuckles went white with the amount of pressure. "You were conscious?"

"Well…yes…"

Ron inched a little further away from Harry along the bench when he finally pried his hands from their positions. Draco's glare got a little more intense.

"You want him and not me…?" the Slytherin asked, looking at Harry intensely.

"No…I just didn't want to get put in Detention…" Harry murmured, trying to sound like it was the truth.

Draco simply continued to glare until Harry looked back up at him.

"If you really want I'll give you a much better one…right now."

Draco glanced up towards the teacher's table to see if Snape was there. He wasn't – so he looked back to Harry.

"Not yet…you'll kiss me when he gets in here though."

"Oh naturally…" Harry finished, then began to put some food on his plate. He was going to have something to throw up after class…he'd need it after all the adventuring his mouth would be going through today.

Ron looked incredibly displeased with Harry and made sure that the other Gryffindor was aware of it.

"You know…I can't believe you're taking advantage of them in this state…"

Harry sighed and lifted his eyes to his friend. "I need to…" he whispered quietly. "If I don't have them at each other's necks…I won't get any peace…"

Ron looked puzzled for a few moments and then decided it'd take less brainpower to eat instead.

Unfortunately he wasn't going to have that chance. Snape walked in at that moment – his eyes hungrily seeking out the Gryffindor student as soon as they had the chance.

Draco was already on the other side of the table, snuggling into Harry's lap and letting his cool fingers trail up the other's neck. The whole hall seemed to stop eating to stare at them. Lucius Malfoy was trembling – Voldemort was looking a little jealous (you could see his expressions as he'd finally removed his cloak) – and Snape was seething with anger.

The young Slytherin's eyes lifted to Harry. "We don't have long to make much use of this." And then he settled his lips on Harry's, tipping his head quickly to one side and starting a long desperate kiss that had him panting desperately for breath when he was finally pulled sharply from the other some twenty seconds later. It had taken a while for any of the teachers to give an order to tear them apart after all.

Harry remained sitting in place for barely a few seconds before he managed to get up shakily. Why was the Slytherin allowed to kiss like that? He shook his head and glanced up to Snape uneasily. "Detention. Straight after your last class…"

"What about me?" Draco growled, glaring at the dark haired Professor. "I was involved too."

"Yes…but he's not a betraying little rat." Snape growled and then stormed back up to the teacher's desk.

Harry was shaking for quite some time after that. Ron didn't eat – he was too busy imagining what Snape would do to Harry in that detention he'd planned so gloriously. Snape was thinking of the same things – that much was obvious by the smirk that had plastered on his features. Voldemort was trying to understand his jealousy – and Lucius had dragged Draco off somewhere to tell him off.

The dark haired Gryffindor lowered his head to rest on the cold table quietly and he pulled his hands over his head. It wouldn't be long until his next lesson – the Dark Arts. Why it had to be with Lucius he didn't know…it seemed like the worst punishment on Earth. But thankfully it was the one class that Harry would have Ron with him to protect him from Draco's attentions.

But who would protect him from Lucius?

The last few moments of the lunch hour ticked away and the lines of students filed for the door silently under Voldemort's organization.

Harry yawned lazily and looked up towards the ceiling that had been covered in storm clouds since yesterday morning. It made everything so much darker in the Great Hall. It was almost like a bad omen. If the storm went away – then maybe the spell had gone too.

They were marched swiftly out of the hall and found their way to their classes quite easily. When Harry arrived at the Dark Arts classroom – he found that Lucius had saved a spot for him, Draco and Ron at the very front of the room. This was presumably so that he could keep an eye on his son and prevent him from doing anything foolish with his arch nemesis.

The Gryffindor sighed and took his place. This was going to be a very long three hours. He wasn't used to such long lessons. Double periods were this long and they weren't very often. He wished distractedly that Snape had informed Voldemort of that little detail. Maybe that way this wouldn't be torture. Six hours being taught by Death Eaters. It was enough to shatter anyone's sanity.

Lucius Malfoy began to start showing items about the classroom. They all looked utterly terrifying. He explained how they could be used and what times you would use them. Harry found himself distantly interested in them – if he knew what they were then maybe he would be able to avoid or even destroy them in the future. It was like Defence Against the Dark Arts only it worked differently. While in DADA he would find out about how to defend against things and have to work out how they worked in the first place – in DA he was presented with the thing and had to figure out on his own how to defend against it.

It worked quite well until Lucius asked him a question. Since he had been spending all his time trying to figure out how to destroy the Mummy's hand – he hadn't heard Lucius' question.

"Is it that you're spending so much time looking at my son that you can't even concentrate on your work, Mr. Potter? Would you like me to inform Voldemort of your insolence?"

Harry shook his head and looked away from Lucius quickly. "I'm sorry, Sir."

The idea of being called Sir by Potter was far more delightful to Lucius than anything else he could imagine. It distracted him ever so quickly. "Well then…simply answer the question. What do you think would happen if you detached the finger of a Mummy's hand?"

"It would…return to the hand and reattach itself?" Harry asked, slowly.

"Exactly," Lucius purred, lifting the piece of wood that the hand was set upon. "And Draco – what can you use Mummy's hands for?"

"To strangle your enemy, of course." Draco had been told all of this stuff before. The Mummy's hand was one of the least interesting things in his father's collection of Dark Arts items.

Harry shot a glance at Draco who smiled darkly at him and looked back to the father. Okay…Draco might be attempting to help him find out who had cast this spell…but he was still a Death Eater after all…and people should expect Death Eaters to be interested in such things.

The Gryffindor shook his head and went back to pondering about how to destroy the wretched hand. It was the only thing that was keeping him from thinking about other things that would be far more confusing to his tired mind – like what Snape was planning for their detention tonight – or how to break this ghastly spell.

End of Chapter 2

Next Chapter will be out on Sunday, probably about four-o-clock French time. Anyway…Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review. CrimsonShinigami.