Disclaimer: See first chapter.
Desires
Chapter Eight: Found?
Severus followed Draco back to the blonde's room. 'The room he shares with Potter, Severus. Be careful.' They were finally having a quiet dinner together. Potter was in Hogsmeade with Granger, and while it is polite to eat with the others, it was only required thrice a week during the Summer hols. They stepped through the door and Severus paused to look around. The colors were not what he had expected. He didn't know if he expected either Slytherin or Gryffindor colors, but he was surprised to see the room done all in shades of blue. Rather soothing, actually. Which he assumed was most probably the point.
The two went and sat at the small table where house-elves were already laying out dinner for them. They spoke little during the meal, preferring the comfortable silence to indulge themselves. After, they settled on the sofa, and spoke of inconsequential matters, both knowing that Harry could arrive at any time now. Severus picked up a book from the end table nearest him and looked through it. It was in no language he could understand. That in itself was unusual, because he could at least recognize most languages, even if he couldn't read them all. He looked over at Draco, turning the green cloth-bound book over in his hands.
"What language is this, Draco?" he asked curiously.
Draco looked at it a moment, then shrugged.
"No idea. Harry's reading it. Has been for months, actually, and takes notes on it often. Unfortunately, the notes are in the same language as the book, so I can't read them. He seems to be excited about something in there, however. He says it just may hold the key that Granger's been looking for. Won't tell me what, or what language it is, or even who wrote it."
Severus mulled this over for many minutes before nodding. He didn't replace the book, however, merely continued to turn it over and over, his long fingers caressing the cover on each pass. There was something oddly familiar about it, but he didn't know how. He'd never seen it before.
"He likes you, you know," Draco said, interrupting his thoughts. "He might even tell you about it, were you to ask."
"Why wouldn't he tell you?" Severus asked, raising one eyebrow.
Draco shrugged.
"Says I wouldn't understand. Says it's got potions listed and information about plants I'd never heard of. He tells me that my 'love of potions is too weak, as my love of foolish wand waving far outweighs any love of brewing I may harbor.' I suspect he's right, as I haven't even thought about learning new potions or anything, and that's one of his fields of study. And he makes them all the time, whereas I only do so to refill my emergency stock when I need to."
Severus looked incredulous at that.
"But he's always been abysmal in potions! How could he possibly be any better now?"
Draco laughed.
"All I know is what he tells me. He's studied them since he went out on his own. He said he never understood potions. Not until he left here, anyway. Then he realized three things. One, you make him nervous, so he can't concentrate. Two, he never thought he'd outlive . . . how did he put that? Ah yes. 'Old Tom, the snake-faced bastard.' And, of course, there's his main reason. Potions is like cooking, just with things you'd never use to make dinner. And I don't think I've ever eaten food as good as his unless I've been here. Even the house elves at Malfoy Manor can't beat Harry Potter in the kitchen."
A light laugh came from the doorway and both men turned.
"Why, thank you Draco. If I knew you felt that way, I would've forced you to go to Hermione's with me. My turn to cook, and all. I did bring you something, though. Just a little dessert."
With a small smile at his blonde friend and a nod to the Potions Master, he slid a Black Forrest cake onto the table and turned.
"I'll be in the bedroom reading, if you need me," Harry said as he moved to retrieve his book. Seeing it in his love's hand, he blushed and softly asked if he could have it back. With his book, he made his way across the room, gathering some parchment and quills on his way. He was almost in the other room when Draco's voice stopped him.
"Harry! Severus was wondering what language that was written in."
Harry looked at him oddly for a moment.
"Parseltongue," he murmured then disappeared, the door closing behind him.
Draco moved directly to the table, summoning two plates, forks and a knife. He sliced two pieces of the rich cake, cherries and cherry syrup oozing down the sides. He brought a piece for Severus, and settled next to his godfather again to enjoy the sinfully delicious dessert. He moaned softly in ecstasy as he took his first bite. He almost regretted staying at Hogwarts, and knew he would have picked another night for dinner if he had known that Harry was making dinner that evening. But he had enjoyed his night with Severus, and hoped the older man would stay longer even if Harry was back.
"Did he say Parseltongue, Draco?" Severus asked, as his godson ate with an indecent, almost orgasmic, pleasure. He decided to follow the young man's lead and took a bite of his own slice. He couldn't restrain his own moan of pleasure. The taste was pure heaven, much like he thought a taste of the baker would be. He licked a drip of cherry syrup from his lips, imagining a different taste upon his mouth.
"Mm-hmm," Draco replied. "Wonder who wrote the book then."
Harry knew Severus would still be there when he got back. That's partly why he wanted to get back to the castle earlier than usual. The other part was his book. He felt he was close to what he needed so Hermione could find her key. He knew the clues were there. He just had to figure them out so he could give them to her.
He had practiced being indifferent to Severus Snape. But he was still glad that he had time to compose himself before facing the man as Draco was regaling him with Harry's cooking skills.
In the bedroom, he curled up on the bed with the book in parseltongue and some parchment, quills, and a flat surface to write on. He went back to his Muggle roots for that, using another, larger book to settle his parchment on. He listened with half an ear to them eating and discussing his book. He knew telling Draco that it was Parseltongue, especially in front of Severus, would garner more attention for it and some measure of confusion. But he didn't think they'd be that interested in it. Perhaps he should share a little more about it with Draco, at least. He moved to the door to do just that and stopped short. He watched Severus put his first piece of cake into his mouth, his lips closing about the fork with a sensual beauty. He almost melted at the sound that escaped the older man's throat. His breathing was far too harsh as he watched the pink tongue slip from the heated mouth and swipe across cherry covered lips. Leaning against the doorframe, he caught Draco's eye. Draco gave him a sly smile, but took the hint and kept Severus' attention elsewhere until Harry recomposed himself.
Harry strolled out into the sitting room, gathering his previous notes as he went and took the armchair nearest to Draco, his book and notes in his hands. Tucking his feet into the chair, he turned to the young Slytherin.
"Alright, Dray, what do you want to know?" Harry asked, a weary yet excited gleam in his eyes.
Draco leaned forward eagerly, seemingly disregarding his godfather's presence for the moment.
"How old is it? Who wrote it? What kind of plants and potions are we talking about here? Any spells? What about--"
Harry laughed and cut his friend off with an upraised hand. His senses were aware of the man he loved so near, but intellectually he was with whoever he was speaking to. At the moment, that was Draco.
"It's very old, just about a thousand years, actually. Salazar Slytherin. Many extinct plants, or very rare at the least, and potions to blow your mind. Some quite literally. Many have been lost with time. Yes, lots of spells, although most of those are incanted in parseltongue, so you can't use them. I've a few other books by him, and one by Gryffindor. There is some history in them, but mostly they chronicle the magiks of the age they lived in. Fascinating reading, really. Hermione wants the Gryffindor book, and I promised she could read it when I was through with it," here Harry paused, cocking his head to the side. "Perhaps I should give it to her now. Maybe she can find some of the clues herself."
Harry pursed his lips, pondering if Godric Gryffindor had written anything that could help the young witch in her quest for a cure. He was certain, however, that the clues remained in Salazar's work. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice when Severus leaned forward, his curiosity piqued by the mention of lost potions.
Severus and Draco shared a look. Draco knew that Harry was so far gone in his thoughts that it would be difficult to bring him back to the present. Severus was eager for knowledge on the one subject he loved above all others. Draco was about to lean over and shake his friend when Harry's eyes, which had seemed glazed and distant, snapped up to him, then down to the book in his lap. He pushed his notes onto the low coffee table in front of him, kneeling in front of it like it was an altar. He summoned a quill and ink to the table and began scribbling furiously, muttering to himself. What dazed the two Slytherins wasn't the ferocity of his actions, however. It was that Harry was speaking in parseltongue. Draco found the sibilant language intriguing, while Severus found it damn sexy when the sounds flowed from Harry. Harry looked up once, his gaze landing on Draco.
"Call Hermione. Tell her to get over here right away."
Draco nodded and fire-called for the bright woman to come to their rooms as soon as she could. She said she'd be there just as soon as she took her latest potion off the heat.
Severus watched in awe as the young man before him became so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't appear to be aware of the world outside his own little corner. That was how Severus felt when he brewed potions. And he wanted Harry's attention fixed on him in the same way. With that same passion, dedication, and need.
The fire flared, and Hermione Granger stepped through.
"Professor Snape!" she said, startled. "I didn't expect to see you here. Pleasure."
"Good evening, Miss Granger," he replied, watching as her eyes flicked between Harry and himself, before settling on Draco questioningly. The blonde shrugged and rolled his eyes, a habit he no doubt picked up from Harry.
Hermione made her way over to Harry, settling on the floor next to him with a familiarity that very few ever managed with that young man.
"Harry? What is it? What did you find?" her thirst for knowledge overrode any pleasantries she may have offered her friend.
"It's here, 'Mione. It's been here all along. I need Godric's book. Dray? Can you grab the red book from my nightstand? It's in the drawer."
"Sure."
Draco returned with the book, and Harry flipped through it until he was at a specific passage. He handed it to Hermione and pointed out a passage.
"I need you to read to here-" he pointed, "then wait for me to finish. Then finish the spell with me. Mine will be in Parseltongue, so don't get jittery. 'Kay?"
"Yes, but . . . why me? Why not these two?" here she gestured to the two men before her.
Harry smiled.
"Simple. I need a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. Obviously, I couldn't read both as they have to be completed together."
Severus blinked at that.
"But neither of you is a Slytherin," Severus stated, oblivious.
The other three snickered. When Severus turned an inquiring gaze onto Harry, he blushed but answered the unspoken question.
"The Hat wanted to sort me into Slytherin. I wouldn't let it. When Tom tried to kill me the first time, he transferred some of himself into me. I've got Slytherin blood because of him. So even though I didn't sort into Slytherin, I am still technically one."
"I see."
The younger man smiled softly at the older one, making his breath catch in his throat. Hermione and Draco gave each other small grins, then the witch nudged Harry with her elbow.
"So, what does this spell do?" she asked.
"Simple, really. It points us the right way," he replied.
"Meaning?"
"We'll find our answers at the end of the spell, and not before. Says so, right here." Harry pointed to a line in Salazar's book, knowing that the rest couldn't read it and finding himself secretly pleased. He liked being able to talk to snakes and have secrets that no one else could learn. It was . . . nice. Private.
Hermione nodded and began.
A/N: I am terribly sorry about the long wait between chapters six and seven. I do hope you all forgive me. Please leave a review and enjoy. Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far. I do appreciate it, even if my lack of updating says otherwise.