CHAPTER 35

A haze of smoke filled the classroom. There was a smell of singed cloth. A murmured spell cleared both view and smell. Two individuals were lying on the ground, the smaller slight one underneath the taller long-limbed wizard. The latter was holding the former individual's wrists in a firm grip above the messy-haired head. Two wands seemed to be watching the pair a short distance away.

"I won," Severus said softly, releasing Harry's wrists. Their bare chests and stomachs were pressed together. Harry raised one leg, flexing it and pressing his knee against Severus's hip. The friction sent heat waves radiating in his groin. Carefully, ever so Slytherin-carefully, he moved his hips and watched a spark leap in those dark eyes.

"You didn't." Harry's voice and gaze were stubborn.

"I most certainly did, so kindly stop contradicting me," Severus said, rather enjoying their teasing argument and the feel of Harry's body against his own.

"You cheated, sir. You tripped me up with your foot. That's not exactly wand-work." Harry pretended to want to escape from underneath Severus's weight, getting a good, solid rub against Severus's stomach out of the movement and a responding roll from the Potions Master's hips as Severus tried to hold Harry down. Harry was sure that he could feel…something…hardening against his abdomen.

"I was drawing on all my experience, Potter." Severus sounded slightly hoarse.

"Obviously," Harry said. He gyrated his hips again, wondering at his own insane rashness.

"Stop wiggling," Severus hissed at him from between clenched teeth.

"I want to get up, sir," Harry explained.

Severus raised a self-satisfied eyebrow and slowly rose to his feet.

"An understandable wish. Rise and shine, Potter."

Harry got up, straightening his trousers furtively. Severus managed not to look at the bud-like nipples which seemed to have been made to nip and nibble at. Nibble-nipples, he thought and immediately reprimanded himself for such frivolous foolish reflections and word games.

"Since we cannot agree on who won, how about a compromise? We both won," he said. Severus's mind jerked back to that erotic dream he had had of Harry.

"This is a duel in which we are both winners."

"Logic and common sense dictate that only one person can win a duel," Severus said in a bored tone.

"Well, this one is an exception, Professor."

"Nonsense, Potter."

"I've had more lessons with you than with anyone else. So can you please drop 'Potter' and call me by my first name? Sir?"

"It is with a thrill of absolute shock and amazement that I hear you acknowledge the amount of time spent in my forbidding presence. Well then, Potter, if you manage to achieve a very…very…very good mark in your Potions NEWT then I will call you 'Harry'."

The hair actually stood up on Harry's arms as Severus, for the very first time in so many years, called him by his first name.

"And what does a 'very…very…very good mark' mean?"

"An 'Outstanding', of course. Potter."

Harry pursed his lips in a critical expression.

"I think that's more up Hermione's street, sir," he said.

Severus snorted.

"It is frankly heartbreaking that Miss Granger's skill hasn't rubbed off on your brewing after so many years."

"I have been improving."

"I want your best, Potter," Severus growled, "and teaching you has revealed to me that you do have a brain in your cranium after all."

"And learning from you has revealed to me that there's…a lot… to admire about traditional duelling."

Harry's eyes lingered for a moment on Severus's chest. A heat wave washed over Severus's face. Harry, too, flushed, knowing that he was being dangerously bold.

"Is there any other way to convince you to drop 'Potter'?" he tried again.

"Of course not."

"Anyway, Hermione will be delighted to know that you've finally paid her a compliment."

Severus glared at him. Grinning, Harry reached for his t-shirt and put it on. Severus took the opportunity to feast his eyes on the strip of appetising midriff as Harry's face disappeared behind the cloth for a moment. He quickly resumed his glare when Harry's head reappeared.

"I still insist that we both won this duel," Harry insisted, settling his t-shirt.

Severus continued glaring at him and announced:

"In ancient Greece, boys used to engage in sportive activities without any clothes at all. I might think of applying this custom to our next duel if you do not see sense, Potter."

"Sounds interesting. We can ask the Headmaster for permission," Harry said innocently. "As long as we don't end up in a state similar to the one in the picture of Hyacinthus and Apollo."

Severus spluttered, opening his mouth to launch into a tirade about improper conduct and detentions.

"I meant, in a state of…deadishness," Harry added.

"Out!" Severus barked, pointing at the door.

"How about a third Sudoku competition?"

"No! And it is I who won the duel," Severus snapped, realising that he was, to his horror, actually sounding petulant.

Harry moved gracefully towards the door.

"Good night, sir."

Severus sniffed haughtily in return. With a mischievous smile, his young student left him to his own devices. As soon as the door closed, Severus unzipped his trousers with a moan.

Harry managed to overcome Severus's refusal where future Sudoku games were concerned.

Sudoku competitions soon became one of their favourite pastimes. After their Legilimency lessons, they would sit together at the desk in Severus's office, each wizard armed with an identical grid which was punctually delivered by Winky the house-elf. Whoever managed to complete his grid first was the winner. Severus discovered that Harry was a worthy opponent, and Harry was pleased to find himself and the Potions Master so well matched in this game. Unfortunately, their time together was drawing to a close; the NEWTs were about to take place. Seventh-years were using every free minute to study. Hermione had become a permanent occupant of the library from where not even Ron could dislodge her.

"No, Ronald, I do not have the time to snog you," she would flare at him, "and you should be revising Charms. Where is the timetable I drew up for you?"

Severus was no less thorough, setting the seventh-years such difficult potions to brew that a student ended up with a nervous breakdown in the middle of class and had to be carried down, screaming and swearing, to the hospital wing. Hermione hovered anxiously over her cauldron, eyeing the bubbles nervously, her face so tense that she gave the impression of suffering from lockjaw. Harry, too, was nervous – but not only because of the exam pressure. Whenever Severus approached his cauldron, his heart was thud crazily, and he would be forced to suppress tremors running through his extremities. Sometimes his eyes would meet those dark smouldering ones, and his face would grow warm and his sex rigid. Occlumency, he would scream at himself, and manage to regain the fragments of his composure. He did not have time to indulge in woodworking, but he did find himself indulging in a manual occupation of a rather different kind underneath the bedclothes. His desperation to keep his longings secret from Severus resulted in his mental magic skills increasing even more. He thought of Severus's body pressed against his and knew that Severus had liked what he had seen of Harry's topless portions; and if he was willing to submit to Sudoku competitions, then he had to like more than Harry's physical endowments.

"I am starting to think that he likes me. Harry. Just Harry," he murmured to Hedwig as he fastened a letter to Remus Lupin to her foot. Remus was the voice of reason combined with the perfect amount of roguishness. In this situation, Harry felt that Remus would understand him better than Ron or Hermione, especially with the exams charging towards them like irate Hippogriffs.

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