8.

Inexplicably, Severus felt his anger fade. Perhaps it was the look of poorly concealed terror on Potter's face. Perhaps it was because Potter looked so young. Perhaps it was because, in that moment, Potter was completely at his mercy. He sighed.

"Get up, Potter."

Potter blinked, eying him warily. Severus stepped back impatiently.

"I said get up. And take off that ridiculous thing."

Potter's disembodied head rose jerkily. A moment later his body came into view as he rolled the Cloak off his shoulders. He clutched it to him protectively, watching Severus with nervous, animal eyes.

"Go on," Severus said irritably, gesturing through the painting, toward the kitchen. Potter backed away.

"No thanks, I'll just--"

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"You will not go without dinner simply because you had the misfortune of running into me."

"How did you know I wasn't at dinner?" Potter's eyes narrowed. Severus was starting to lose his patience.

"Dark magic," he snapped.

Potter fixed him in an odd, penetrating stare. To his horror, Severus felt his eyes shift away uncomfortably.

"You--" Potter suddenly smiled. "That was a joke, wasn't it?"

Mortified, Severus drew himself up to his full height, staring down his nose at Potter with all the derision he could muster. Potter met Severus' eyes, and his smile died. He looked at the ground, and then looked back at Severus. Finally, he proceeded through the painting. Severus followed him.

An army of twittering house elves immediately assaulted the boy, giving Severus a few moments to collect his thoughts.

Obviously, Potter did not have permission to leave his dormitory at night to break into the Kitchens. Under normal circumstances, Severus would take great pleasure in confiscating the invisibility cloak and taking as many house points as he could. Although he was sure that Albus would have had the cloak back to the boy within a week. He scowled.

Tonight--well--it might be prudent to spend some time with the boy, he decided, to make sure that Potter wasn't suffering from any unforeseen side- effects. Besides, he didn't want to have to answer the inevitable, bothersome questions if the boy fainted from hunger before breakfast. Certain things could be overlooked, under the circumstances.

The house elves produced several sandwiches and some pumpkin juice at Potter's request. When Potter had convinced them that he didn't need anything else, he loaded the food onto a tray and sat down across from Severus. Severus sat stiffly, wrapping his hands tightly around his teacup.

For a few minutes, the only sound was Potter stuffing himself with food.

"For Merlin's sake, chew with your mouth closed!" Severus snapped.

"Sorry," Potter said, looking anything but apologetic. He was tucking in a remarkable amount of food for someone so slender.

Severus cleared his throat. Potter looked up at him with trepidation. For some reason, this didn't please Severus as much as it should have. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Are you...recovering well?" he asked formally.

Potter put down his sandwich and wiped his hands on a napkin.

"I guess so." He didn't take his eyes off Severus. They were puffy, rimmed in red, and in the yellow light of the kitchens, against his pale face, they burned vividly green. It was quite disconcerting. Severus fixed him in a glare, and the unsettling eyes shifted to Potter's shoes.

"The eye irritation will be gone in a day or two. You can rinse your eyes with cool water to treat any discomfort."

"Yes, sir."

"The eye irritation an indirect effect of Semiveritaserum," Severus explained, not sure why he was still speaking. "Truth serums tend to suppress the involuntary reflexes. That includes blinking. The eyes dry out fairly quickly."

"Oh."

A short silence. Severus took a swallow of his tea, which had gone cold.

"Why did you do it?" Potter asked suddenly. Severus' head jerked up from his tea. "Sir," Potter added quickly.

"Do what?" Severus asked. But he knew. He suddenly wanted very badly to get away.

"Why did you make me drink that potion, in front of everybody? Why did you let Malfoy ask me those questions?"

Severus felt his upper lip curl. He was retreating, moving back into his mind, letting his mental reflexes handle the situation.

"It was a class demonstration," he said nastily. "I suppose you think you are so special that you should be exempt from class participation?"

Potter's face went red.

"You could have asked the questions yourself. You could have had--anyone but Malfoy--" He leaned forward, his eyes burning, a new hardness in his voice. "And I guess you had to keep me after class, too? It was part of the demonstration to keep me after class and say horrible things about my father when I couldn't answer back?"

Blood rushed to Severus' face. He suddenly felt nauseous.

"I'm warning you, Potter," he said softly, "I will not be spoken to like that." Harry's mouth dropped open.

"You will not--" he shut it again with a snap. "How about if I give you a draught of truth serum first? Then can I--"

"You are out of bed after curfew!" Severus fought to keep his voice at a reasonable volume. "Do not push your luck."

"Are you threatening me?" Potter looked like he was about to laugh. Severus saw red.

"Keep your voice down!" Now Severus was half out of his chair, leaning over the table toward Potter. The nausea intensified, and he felt briefly dizzy.

"Keep my--KEEP MY VOICE DOWN, SHOULD I? YOU GIT!"

Severus was on his feet, his hands stiff and flat on the table, his face barely a foot from Potter's face.

"I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!"

"You're a coward," Potter spat through an expression of unmitigated disgust.

For one awful, dizzy moment, Severus was sure he was going to lunge at the boy. No. No, this was not James Potter, he told himself desperately. Severus was not a student anymore. Potter was a student, a 16-year old student, and Severus was a Hogwarts professor, and there were protocols to consider. He had certain responsibilities. He could not simply whip out his wand and curse the boy into the next world. Stay calm. Cold. Impersonal. Take points. Give out detentions.

He drew himself up to his full height and glared down his nose at the boy.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor," he said with as much derision as he could muster. Authoritative and bored, utterly disdainful. Perfect. "And an additional forty points and a week's detention for being out after hours. Do not challenge me, Potter," he added preemptively when Potter opened his mouth to speak. "You will come out the worse."

Potter closed his mouth. He stood still for almost a full count of five, glaring at the table top. Severus watched the struggle on the boy's face with fascination. Finally, Potter looked up. He suddenly looked like he was about to cry. Or start shouting. Or both.

"Right then," Potter said shortly. A pointed pause. "Sir." He snatched up the invisibility cloak from where it lay on the bench, marched across the room and stepped out through the painting.

"Oh, and Potter," Severus called after him, "I am going to have to confiscate that cloak of yours."

Potter whirled around to face Severus. He shook his head slowly and backed away, moving deeper into the shadow of the hall, hugging the cloak against his body. Severus stepped through the painting and followed. It swung closed behind him.

"Potter," Severus grit his teeth. "Hand it over. Now."

Potter's eyes were hard as flint in the flickering candlelight. His voice was pure steel.

"No."

The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. Potter's eyes cut into Severus, hit him in a deep, raw place, lancing old, unhealed wounds. Severus dropped his principles with a rush of joyous abandon.

"No?" he spoke softly, advancing on Potter, feeling almost deranged. A spark of fear lit in Potter's eyes, and Severus felt a shiver of satisfaction.

But Potter did not retreat. Severus stopped, inches from the boy, who was, disconcertingly, only half a foot shorter than he was.

"No," Potter hissed with sudden venom.

Their faces were so close. Potter tilted his head back to meet Severus' eyes. His glare did not waver. Warm moisture from his breath clung to Severus' mouth and chin.

"You don't frighten me," Potter spoke in a low, intense whisper.

"Oh, don't I?" Severus said, his lips barely an inch from Potter's. He moved his head in a small, sudden arc as he spoke, tracing the line of Potter's jaw with his breath. Potter shuddered almost imperceptibly. A strange, relentless mass of energy was building in Severus' body, a feeling that wasn't quite numbness, a tingling like blood rushing back into a sleeping limb, except this was feeling was centered around his--

Merlin. Oh, Merlin.

He was aroused.

Potter's face was changing, his jaw softening and his eyes widening. Severus realized that his thoughts must be plainly written on his face. He made an odd, strangled sound in the back of his throat. But he could not bring himself to look away.

Violent, uncontrollable feelings, old and new, whipped around his mind with gale force, decimating his common sense. His mind was a vortex, a howling storm of chaos and hunger, and the eye of the storm, the source, the singularity, was Harry Potter. Harry Potter, who was not quite James Potter. Harry Potter, who sometimes looked at Severus with something like understanding. Where did James Potter end? Where did Harry Potter begin?

"What do you want from me?" Potter said hoarsely. Severus could not speak. He closed his eyes, pressed his lips together, excruciatingly aware of Potter's closeness, of the heat radiating off Potter's body, and his own body, falling into a kind of helplessness, wracked with wave after wave of shudders. He needed to step back, to pull away before he did something dreadful.

"Sir?"

A light touch on his cheek. And, against his will, he felt his head turning; he was pressing his cheek into the touch, feeling as helpless as a child, and unable to open his eyes. He was melting, he was dying, his cock twitching convulsively in his trousers. He made a high, animal sound, almost a whimper.

He hid his face in Potter's hand, pressing his lips against the soft palm.