MEMORY VIAL 29: SNAPE'S INTERFERENCE (YEAR 5)
AKA: "TRAUMA BOND"

It was a horribly vivid nightmare. The sun had gone down, and Harry and Draco were being sent into the Forbidden Forest on an assignment for Professor Dumbledore, who was pacing the perimeter of the forest to keep an eye out for their return. Afraid of getting separated, Draco insisted they hold hands, but Harry still managed to lose track of him, as if they hadn't maintained a physical point of contact at all.

Harry only realized Draco was gone when the hex that Fred and George had cast over them two years ago pinched at his ankle. He whirled in aimless circles, hoping to spot Draco's bright white-blond hair in the leafy shadow, but all he saw were the tall stalks of endless trees and impenetrable darkness.

Draco was as good as nowhere, but Harry knew he could follow the pinching at his ankle. Even with the dearth of track marks, the magic connecting them could always be relied on.

The forest pressed in on Harry from every side, gnarled branches and wayward thorns ripping at his robes as he went in the direction of wherever the magic was leading him. Halfway into his trek, something slimy and pale-skinned slithered into his path. A large worm—a Jormungandi, Harry thought—reared up and showed its hundreds of venomous, prong-like teeth. Its throat rattled and clicked threateningly, while Hagrid's disembodied voice spoke out from the trees: "Beautiful, isn't he? An' harmless, too! Misunderstood creatures, they are."

Harry vaulted over its tail when the Jormungandi snapped at him, but the magic lasso binding his ankle to Draco yanked him so suddenly that it pitched him forward into the trunk of a fallen pine tree.

Holding his nose, which was bloody from being smashed, Harry staggered to his feet, then hurtled in the direction of where the hex was leading him. Drawing his wand, he spun around, shouted, "Impedimenta!" and continued to run. He meandered through networks of tree roots, shielding his face against the stinging slap of branches, hastening away from the distant roaring of the Jormungandi, which he feared might be following in his wake.

Eventually, Harry stumbled over a knot of brambles and landed face down in the leaf mold. When he looked up again, Draco was in front of him, walking in a clearing several paces off.

A black-hooded figure was moving swiftly towards Draco from behind. The moon shone silver through the interlocking branches overhead, so that Harry was able to make everything out clearly. He shouted, but no sound came out, and he did not need to see the hooded figure's livid eyes, or the nose as flat as a snake's, to know what was slinking toward Draco through the undergrowth.

A deathly white hand with unnaturally long fingers reached for Draco's arm…

Again, Harry screamed, yelling for Draco to run, to turn around, but it was as if a Silencing Charm had been cast over him.

Someone picked Harry up by the collar of his robes and set him on his feet. On instinct, Harry threw himself forward but was impeded by the strong hand that had just helped him. Harry was yanked backward, forced to retreat by several paces, but Draco felt the tug of magic on his own ankle when it went taut in an effort to keep the boys unseparated.

Draco stopped in his tracks and his head turned sideways. He watched Harry twist and struggle before falling to his knees among the brambles.

Professor Snape's robes billowed, snagging on the underwood as he circled around Harry and picked him up by the collar a second time. "Leave him," Snape demanded.

"Never," Harry said. "I'm not like you."

Now that Harry was on his feet again, able to speak, he careened forward and tried to slip free of the hands grappling him away from the clearing.

"It's too dangerous!"

"I DON'T CARE!"

Draco took a step in Harry's direction, but the white, delicate fingers grasped onto him like a vise, and Lord Voldemort was as immoveable as the trees whose roots ran deep into the earth.

Harry pointed his wand at the greasy-haired man, shouting, "Stupefy!"—while Draco whirled around and cried, "Expulso!"

Meanwhile, there was a loud crack of someone Apparating into the forest.

When Harry and Draco were free, they ran towards each other, Draco shouting at Harry to run in the opposite direction. But then a third interloper hit them each with an Impediment Jinx, and Harry knew with that dream-like omniscience that rarely characterized his nightmares that Lucius Malfoy had come to retrieve his son.

Seconds later, when the effects of the jinx wore off, Snape regained his hold on the back of Harry's robes. Lucius pointed his wand at Draco's ankle, where the twins' hex had been placed, and bellowed, "FINITE!"

There was a high-pitched ringing sound, against which Harry covered his ears. But otherwise, nothing happened.

Harry continued to struggle against Snape, but he was being dragged backwards, and the magic connecting his ankle to Draco's tightened painfully, feeling as if it were a physical cord eating into his skin, threatening to cut him to the bone.

"Let him go, Severus!" shouted a haggard voice that Harry recognized as Lupin's.

"No," Snape answered back. "This so-called love is going to kill them, and you encouraged it."

"I encouraged nothing but for him to follow his heart."

Harry blocked out the rest of what was said between the two men; the pain in his ankle was becoming too much, and all he could think about was how to prevent himself from being separated from Draco, but it seemed inevitable.

To Harry's surprise, Hagrid Apparated in front of him, looking jolly with his beetle-black eyes. Hagrid's eyebrows raised up; his heavily whiskered chin jutted back towards Snape. "Misunderstood creatures, aren't they, these Slytherins? Like two-faced snakes, until yeh realize there be no venom in their bite."

Harry's heart beat faster. The magic cord seemed to be ripping at connections it had formed inside his heart—and it was the most awful, indescribable feeling in the world.

"Potter, hold on!"

To Harry's relief, Draco appeared to be struggling against his father. But Lucius had an arm locked around Draco while he continued shouting curses at the invisible cord. The magic started to glow white-hot the more Lucius attacked it, finally manifesting like a manacle, but Lucius was unable to dispel it, and the manacle sparked and fizzed against the onslaught of his spells.

"You don't understand, Severus," Lupin went on, "they will die if you keep them separated!"

"Oh, please." Snape sneered while continuing to manhandle Harry. "Stop feeding him your superstitious lies. Your sentimental drivel caused all this, and I won't apologize for helping them. It's for their own good."

"You will break the magic between them!"

Harry looked into the scarlet slits of Voldemort's eyes; the Dark Lord's throat clicked with an eerie laughter, like the Jormungandi, and his wand pointed straight at Harry's face…

Harry would be dead in moments if he did not retreat.

"Severus, I'm begging you!" Lupin pointed his wand at Snape but did not act.

A green substance glimmered around the tip of Voldemort's wand. But the tension went slack in Harry's leg, as if his connection to Draco had finally broken. There was a flash of green light, followed by a white glow and a loud whump!

Harry could not walk, but he was being dragged swiftly away, while the silhouetted web of the moonlit canopy flickered above his head. There was no movement in his chest. Had the Curse hit him? It felt like the beating in his heart had stopped, but he was still alive, although he felt like a lifeless shell.

"Potter…! Potter!"

Draco's voice echoed through the trees, shrill and desperate. Harry wished he had the heart to keep fighting, but it was gone now, having been ripped out through his foot and left in the detritus with Voldemort. Whatever magic had been holding them together was finally severed, it seemed. The manacle itself had not broken, but the people around them had torn the magic out of Harry, and he was empty now.

Love isn't enough, Harry realized. All those nice-sounding fairy tales about love—they're nothing but lies…

If the force that made all the magic in the world work wasn't enough to keep him and Draco together—like it couldn't keep Harry and his parents together—then what could? What point was there in loving anyone…?

Love had killed Harry's parents. Nothing good would ever come out of loving anyone. All it guaranteed was heartbreak and an endless fount of darkness.

Endless pain…

…and a deep loneliness so vast that Harry wished he could die if it meant the end of suffering.

Harry woke with an unstable sense of dread. He was lying on his side, hugging something hard against his chest: the book he'd been given for Christmas, which he had not read at all so far.

Neville stood gaping down at him, his round face covered in a light sheen of sweat. "You alright, Harry? You were shouting in your sleep."

A quick glance around the dark room let Harry know that Ron, Seamus, and Dean were also peering at him from behind their bed drapes. "What did I say?" Harry mumbled drowsily.

"It sounded like, 'I can't leave him'," Neville recounted nervously. "You kept saying it over and over again. Are you sure you're alright? It wasn't another one of those… y'know, dreams?"

"Yeah." Harry clutched the book more tightly to his chest, feeling relieved at the thrum he felt against his ribcage. His heart was still there, and none of the dream sequence had been real. "I'm fine. It was just a vivid nightmare. Not like the one with Mr. Weasley."

Neville nodded, then tossed his gaze around the room. "Well… if you need anything…"

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Neville. But unless you've heard of a plant that can chase nightmares away, I don't think there's anything you can do."

Neville nodded thoughtfully, sifting through his internal catalog of magical plants, knowing that at least a few were reputed to target the dream elements of sleep. As he mentally reviewed some plants, he stepped away and returned to his own bed.

"G'night, Harry," Ron whispered. "We're here for you, mate."

"'Night, Harry," Seamus said also.

Harry could not sleep for the rest of the night. He wondered if the interview he had done for The Quibbler was enough to have permanently shattered the relationship he had built with Draco so far. But this was what the Promise Line was supposed to be for… So they could be together while ignoring everything about Voldemort.

But I stabbed Draco in the back, even though I'd done the right thing, Harry thought. I didn't warn him. And I enjoyed seeing him upset. I liked his pain, because he'd hurt me so many times before…

It wasn't until now that he allowed himself to view their situation in that light. He had hurt Draco and could have softened the blow at any point, and if Draco had still gotten mad, well… at least Harry had been sensitive about the whole thing.

He couldn't exactly claim the moral high ground in their relationship as things were.

In Harry's defense, though, he never thought anything would happen to Lucius, since Lucius always found some way to elude responsibility for everything. Hermione had provided a small glimmer of hope in blackmailing Rita Skeeter for the interview, but everything still felt just as hopeless as it did before.

So what did change, except that a few more people believed his story—and at the cost of Draco being at odds with him again? Nothing, from what Harry could tell.

Without Draco, Harry's life felt dull and empty. If it weren't for the D.A., he did not know what he would do. Go mad, probably, and really give the tabloids something to write about. But Harry had hoped their love would be an escape from everything that was bad and scary in the world. He had hoped they would continue to find solace in each other, regardless of what either of them were compelled to do.

Now? Harry dreaded seeing his boyfriend in the halls and during classes. And what was worse, he didn't know if they had even broken up. Maybe Draco saw Harry's actions as a form of breaking up, but Draco never indicated if that was the case. For all Harry knew, he was simply being punished, but that only made him want to act out more.

Nothing was certain, and that infuriated Harry. But maybe there was hope in that. If nothing was certain, then there was a chance everything would eventually turn out. It just didn't seem likely. Winning Draco's attention back didn't seem likely. Their love lasting to the end of the school year was so unlikely that it hurt.

Love lasted longer than the hardiest flower, it seemed, and still it died too quickly…

Or as Ignatius Fireheart wrote in the first poem of his book, now that Harry was glancing at it by the moonlight piercing through his window:

In passion's embrace, a blossom, fierce and fair,
 Yet fades, outpaced by time, a fleeting affair.

THE FIRST MONDAY AFTER THE EASTER HOLIDAYS,
AFTER THE D.A. MEETING WAS RAIDED,
AFTER HARRY PRIED INTO SNAPE'S PENSIEVE…

"Serves the bloody wanker right," Draco muttered to his friends while they were standing in line in front of Professor Snape's desk. Draco was watching Harry closely, whose Invigoration Draught had just been knocked to the ground. "You see, though? We haven't had to do anything at all to get revenge for that interview he did last month." He snickered. "And look—the Mudblood's cleaned out his cauldron, so he can't bottle a new one!"

"Twat," Goyle said under his breath with a grin.

"Hopefully he won't be in this class anymore after this year," Pansy whispered thoughtfully.

But Draco couldn't disagree with her more. While he was gleeful at the sight of Harry's suffering over the past month, he also felt disappointed that any of it had to happen in the first place. If Harry had simply apologized for betraying him, Draco would have done whatever he could to ease Harry's hardships—possibly by sneaking him a bottle of his own Draught—but Harry's stubbornness evidently knew no bounds.

Class was over, but before Draco could leave with his friends for lunch, he was held back by Professor Snape on account of an assignment that he wanted completed during the break.

"But sir," Draco said after receiving his instructions, "why can't Pansy do it? Or one of the Gryffindor prefects?"

"Weasley and Miss Granger would only help him, and I frankly don't think Miss Parkinson has the temperament to handle Mr. Potter like you do," Snape said silkily. "You are accustomed to his ill behavior, and I think between you and Miss Parkinson, you are more commanding of his respect."

Draco's opinion on that was different. If respect meant that Harry would bow up at him and snarl, then yes, he supposed he commanded respect, compared to Pansy whom Harry would ignore even if she threatened to take a hundred points.

"Can I count on you, Draco?"

"Yes sir," he said in resignation.

"Good. If you're hungry, you may take some food from the Hall, but he may not. I want him to concentrate if he accepts my offer." Snape smiled wryly. "You are dismissed."

After receiving his orders, Draco stormed out of the dungeons and made a beeline for the Great Hall. He arrived at the Gryffindor table in a towering mood, and several Gryffindors gaped at him the moment he appeared.

"What the hell is Malfoy doing at our table?" Ginny wondered out loud to her friends.

"Potter," Draco announced angrily. "I've been tasked with conducting you back to the Potions classroom per Snape's orders."

Harry swallowed the mouthful of sandwich he was holding in his mouth. "Sorry?" he mumbled dryly.

"You heard me, now get a move on!"

Several of the surrounding students from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables twisted in their seats to see what was happening. Astoria craned her neck from the Slytherin table and giggled excitedly with her friends.

Harry reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice. "And why should I do what you say?"

Draco grabbed an apple from the Gryffindor table, sneered at Neville who opened his mouth in protest, then dropped it in the pocket of his robes. "Because I'm ordering you as prefect."

"Well, you're not my prefect." Harry scowled.

"I've been told to give you a detention if you don't comply." It was a lie, but Draco suddenly felt motivated to see this assignment through.

There was silence all around them while Harry weighed his options of either sitting in Professor Umbridge's or Snape's office after dinner or going with Draco right now to the Potions classroom. "Alright then." Harry took a gulp from his goblet and, not bothering to look at Ron or Hermione, swung his legs out from over the bench. He shouldered his bookbag, scowled again at Draco, and followed him, making sure to stay several paces behind.

Neither of them spoke the whole way, and Harry became increasingly anxious as they descended the stairs into the dungeons. When they came upon the classroom, Draco held the door open for Harry, less out of respect and more as a way of humiliating him.

Harry shoved the door away from Draco's hand, as it to make like he was opening it himself. The door smacked against the wall, and Draco had to rush out of its way as it clapped heavily shut with a resounding boom.

Now that they were both inside, Draco smoothed his hair, checked his robes, and marched gracefully to the front of the classroom, annoyance screwing up his pointed face. He grabbed an empty flask from Snape's desk and handed it to Harry. "He wants you to redo today's potion for partial credit," he explained, "and he wants it done before his next class starts."

Harry wrinkled his forehead. "What?"

"You heard me loud and clear, Potter. And you know damn well it'll take an hour to brew that potion, so I'd get started if I were you."

Harry did not dare move a muscle. He stared at Draco, incredulous, feeling as if this whole setup had to be a joke.

"You're serious? After he knocked it off his desk?"

"It's not his fault you placed it so close to the edge." Although Draco knew Snape had knocked it off on purpose. "But I'm just as amazed as you are. I don't know what the bloody hell he's thinking; you're the last person who deserves a second chance."

Harry glanced up at the blackboard, while Draco made himself comfortable in Snape's chair behind the teacher's desk. The instructions were still there, and the cabinet containing all the ingredients he would need was still open for him to browse at his leisure.

Something wasn't right. He did not trust Snape's motivation for allowing him to attempt a second Invigoration Draught. But rather than stand idle analyzing his situation for too long, Harry gathered his utensils out of his book bag, then fetched his cauldron from the storage cupboard and got to work.

Draco glowered at him from behind the desk, and Harry could not help glancing back at him every few seconds while he collected the required ingredients from the cabinet.

"Are you going to just sit and stare at me the whole time?"

Draco took a small bite from his apple. "I'm to supervise, and I don't want to miss a chance at getting you into trouble."

Harry's cheeks burned angrily. "Is this how you treat all your boyfriends?" he said in a low voice that almost didn't carry; but since he was in the front row, and the classroom was dead silent, Draco heard him well enough.

"What boyfriend, Potter?" Draco half shouted, spraying bits of apple all over the place. Draco wiped his mouth impatiently and swallowed what he was chewing on. "After what you did?"

Harry's heart hammered as he separated the lovage, scurvy grass, and peppermint. "I thought we agreed about your father and everything else—"

"We agreed to let it go unresolved, Potty," Draco hissed. He rose from the chair as heat flooded into his neck and ears. "But then I realized that you asking me to sit idly by while you ruined my father's reputation—using that stupid Promise Line as a shield—was complete and utter bullshit."

"He's ruining his own reputation," Harry argued in a low breath. He poured the honeywater into the cauldron first, then ignited the fire underneath it.

"Eat dung, Potter."

"And you can eat my arse." Harry glared at Draco from over his cauldron, smirking triumphantly, since Draco could not deny what he enjoyed.

"You better watch your mouth."

"So what I say matters, does it?" Harry stirred the honeywater briskly. "In that case, if I still matter to you, don't you care that your father is working for a thing that wants me dead?"

Draco paused. "If you're saying I should've picked you over my father, I'd remind you that last year you said you'd pick your low-bred friends over me, which is about as insulting as it gets."

Harry's hands were shaking. He reached for the Alihosty leaves by accident, when he was supposed to be adding the peppermint first. "You know, I shouldn't be surprised," he said, feeling suddenly desperate. "You really never meant it, did you? The night we spent together—all the I-love-yous? You've done nothing but try and thwart me ever since we met."

Harry's eyes smoldered up at him in challenge, and Draco made a chutting noise by blowing air out between his teeth. "You drew first blood, Potter, so if getting you expelled is the only way you'll learn your lesson, then I'll gladly help Professor Umbridge in that endeavor. All I ever wanted was—"

"To give me everything, I know," Harry said in a hurt voice. "So much for that…"

Draco leaned forward over the desk, while Harry gave his full attention to the unbrewed potion. "Muggle blood really goes to your head, doesn't it?" he said spitefully. "Like a fever. It not only pollutes the blood, but the brain also… Makes it difficult to think. No wonder half-bloods like you are seen as inferior, when Muggles and Mudbloods are a part of what created you."

Harry's breathing became labored. It felt difficult to concentrate with all these taunts being lobbed at him. Even though he avoided mentioning her by name, Harry knew Draco was taking a sideswipe at his mother. For once, he wished Draco would attack her directly, that way Harry could justify dumping the contents of his cauldron over Draco's head.

"A lot of good Remedial Potions did for you."

"What do you mean?" Harry snapped irritably.

"You didn't put the peppermint in first, you halfwit Mooncalf. I'd be smelling it from here by now if you had."

To Harry's embarrassment, Draco was right. Deciding he had messed up early enough that it warranted a redo, he discarded the honeywater and Alihosty leaves, replaced the ingredients, and began again.

Harry wanted nothing more than to tell Draco the truth about his Occlumency lessons, if for no other reason than to prove he wasn't useless when it came to Potions. Furthermore, if it weren't for them being on opposite sides of the Voldemort issue, he would have also told him about the visions he had been having all year—the flashes of Voldemort's emotions that had been plaguing him. He would have bared everything for Draco if it had been safe to do so, but Draco was making it clear that he had never been a safe person—and there was no way Harry would share anything with Draco ever again if he could help it.

Harry wiped some unshed tears out of his eyes and suppressed an angry sniff. Until now, he had felt like there was hope for their relationship, but at the present moment, he was inconsolable.

Had he really managed to lose both Draco and Cho in quick succession like this, and over similar situations? They were the only things about Hogwarts that were of any real interest to him, apart from the D.A., and that was disbanded now thanks to Marietta. He had lost everything it seemed—everything that made life as a student at Hogwarts worth living, and he wasn't sure how much more of the misery he could take.

"I just wish it all would end," Harry whispered to himself, partly hoping Draco would feel sorry for him. He cleared his eyes a second time as he tried to read the third and fourth line of the instructions on the blackboard.

"What was that?" Draco asked intrusively.

"I said I want it all to end," Harry said more loudly. An angry quaver had somehow slipped into his voice, and it embarrassed him. It made it sound like he was crying, when the truth was he was raging to the point of tears.

"Some things are at an end, Potter," Draco said softly and regretfully, "so there's no use in crying over it."

"You nearly got me expelled when she caught us," Harry said, meaning to allude to the raid on the Room of Requirement.

It took a moment for Draco to realize what he was talking about. "She didn't tell me or Pansy what was going on until after the fact."

"Rubbish."

"Sorry?"

"You knew exactly what she was doing, since Fudge was waiting for me in Dumbledore's office!"

"I was never in Dumbledore's office, you maundering Chizpurfle! All she told us is that you and your stupid friends were up to something on the seventh floor. She said we needed to round you up so she could question you. I had no idea it was over something this serious—Dumbledore's Army? But even if I had known, you gave me no choice with how out of control you've been. Like I said before, I prefer you get expelled if the alternative is you never learn your lesson. You've been completely out of line."

Harry's vision blurred around the edges, but he felt a degree calmer now. He believed Draco when he said he never meant to expel him, and that information alone was enough to bring his rage back down to a manageable level. But he was still itching for a fight. "I was never out of line."

"Well you haven't been very good at all this year, have you?"

Harry rubbed at the burning in his nose. "I don't want that toad thinking I'm good. If she thinks I'm good, then I'm doing something horribly wrong."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're either that ignorant, or so empty-headed that the game is beyond your comprehension. In another life, in another universe, you could've had her on your side, but I guess it's best for my family that you failed at that."

Harry glared briefly at Draco, but thought about those words as he stirred the new brew of honeywater and peppermint. Could he have really gotten Umbridge on his side if he had learned to manipulate people like Draco did?

Absolutely not, Harry decided. Umbridge is pure evil. Nothing would've convinced her.

For a while, the only sound in the dungeons was that of the tranquil bubbling of the honeywater. Then, Harry spoke. "For the record, Malfoy… I never meant to hurt you."

Draco took a bite from his apple and stared intently.

"I never planned on getting interviewed, but Hermione sprang it on me out of nowhere, and I really didn't think anything would come of it." Harry chewed his bottom lip, wondering if he ought to shut up, since this felt like a betrayal against his bushy-haired friend. "I wanted to tell you… but we were having so much fun, and I was feeling so much. I didn't want to ruin it. I was afraid you'd hate me if I warned you. I thought… I thought ignoring it would prevent you from getting angry…"

Draco narrowed his eyes, hating that he understood Harry.

"After a while, I sort of convinced myself that it wouldn't get published after all. Everything I said was true, and The Quibbler doesn't really focus on what's true… so why in the world would they bother with my story?"

Draco wished this was the conversation they had had several weeks ago. He could commiserate with Harry, but it didn't undo any of the damage. It didn't explain the satisfaction Harry had felt when the article had come out, and the fact that Harry had avoided explaining himself until now.

"I speak words against your mother, and you blow up at me. But you try to get my father thrown into Azkaban, and I'm supposed to lie down and just take it?"

Harry dug his chin into his chest, but the gesture wasn't quite up to Draco's standards for when he expected others to feel guilty.

"I'm not the bitch in this relationship, Potter. I'd never lie down and take anything from you. That's your job."

"If you really want to go there," Harry said heatedly, "you're the one who likes casting Tuckus Lingus on other boys."

It took a moment for Draco to understand the invented slang. He panicked when he couldn't think of anything just as witty to respond with. "And who enjoys getting buggered up said arse? We can play this one-upping game all day, Potter, but you know you're the real queer between us two. You pretended to be my girl."

"I did not! And I'm not a girl!"

"If the shoe fits—or, rather, if the dick fits up your anus, Potter, you might as well admit you want to be a girl. I think you're jealous of Pansy in more ways than one."

"You'll never change," Harry whispered, losing his cool all over again. "You have moments where you sort of think clearly, but it never lasts—and I know you liked us being together, but you ended things, not me."

Pain surged through Harry's throat while he moved on to the next line of instructions for his potion.

Hoping to keep Harry engaged in the conversation, Draco said scathingly, "Why the hell would I want to be with someone who'd let my parents rot in prison?"

Harry answered through his teeth. "I wasn't spared the loss of my parents, so why should you be?"

Draco was impressed. "That's petty."

"I learned from the best."

"You're asking for it."

"Aren't I always?"

Draco sat back in Snape's chair, propping his feet up on the desk, and scowled thoughtfully. He watched Harry reach for an infusion of wormwood, then frowned at the miserable way Harry wiped his eyes a third time.

After ten minutes of working in a sulky silence, Harry tried speaking again. "You know, Malfoy." He stirred the mixture slowly in his cauldron. "Ever since I found out you have a crush on me, I've had these moments where I wanted to kiss and hurt you at the same time." He added Vervain infusion to the cauldron while Draco glared at him.

"So what? I've wanted to fuck and kill you plenty of times, so it isn't weird to me."

Harry smiled. "Fireheart says both sex and murder result in death."

Draco's lips quirked up. There was a warm feeling in his chest. "You've been reading it?"

"Bits," he admitted. "Here and there. Next to Slinkhard's textbook, it's the most boring shit I've ever read, but… I kind of like it."

"Then you must know he says shagging is the better way to die. Killing becomes preferable when trust is broken."

"He calls it 'making love' and 'getting rid of' respectively."

Draco grunted in acknowledgement, not taking his eyes off Harry once.

Silence followed for another ten minutes, during which Harry ground up dried Billywig stings with his mortar and pestle, then scattered the resulting powder over the bubbling mixture. Having finished his apple, Draco stood up and slowly snaked his way towards Harry, who was at the far end of the front row near the ingredients' cabinet. Harry's heart began to palpitate as he watched Draco out of the corner of his eye. The blond swept around the long desk and approached Harry from his side.

Harry fumbled for his ladle. He stirred his potion while mentally counting down from three, praying that he wouldn't lose control of himself if something happened…

Harry's stomach fluttered painfully when Draco's arms circled around him from behind. Draco's pointed chin nestled against his shoulder, hurting slightly—and Harry felt like he had his boyfriend back, and them being separated had been nothing but a bad dream.

Harry recited aloud to himself: "'Stir constantly for seven minutes clockwise, while making sure it doesn't boil above a simmer.'" His hands were trembling slightly now, and his whole body was starting to feel weak. I should fight him off, he thought, but Draco was breathing down his neck, and he had missed that feeling with every fiber of his being.

"Do you want to make love right now, Potter…?"

Harry tried not to melt when those words were pressed into his ear. "I thought we weren't boyfriends anymore."

"Who says?" Draco kissed the side of Harry's neck, and Harry shivered as he absorbed that touch like a dry sponge.

"You did," Harry said faintly, hand slipping off the ladle. He closed his eyes and gasped quietly when he felt teeth. He swallowed nervously, doing everything in his power to not to throw himself at Draco right then and there in Snape's classroom.

"I'm sorry I said that, then," Draco said placatingly. "Do you forgive me?"

"God, Malfoy, I…" Harry's voice trembled, while he fought to make sense of this behavior.

"You're a good boy, Potter." Draco knew how effective those words were at taming him. "So good… and forgiving. I'm sorry for calling you a girl."

A hand wandered into Harry's robes and gently stroked around his groin. Harry tensed up, feeling soothed and excited all at once, and he started imagining all the naughty things they could do in an empty room like this. Keep going, he thought. Whatever you're doing, don't stop…

"I want you, Harry."

Harry's stomach clenched with hunger at those words. He breathed heavily as Draco's fingers traced the outline of his cock. He was half hard, and he wanted to go all the way with Draco—take their clothes off and shag on the desk like animals. Maybe sex would patch everything up that was broken between them… Maybe it would fix everything.

"We shouldn't," Harry said, while rubbing himself discreetly against Draco's fingers.

"I think we should. You want it, too."

"No, I don't."

"Your dick says otherwise. I can make it feel really good, remember…?" Draco squeezed through Harry's trousers until he heard a moan.

Harry loved how Draco was seducing him. It was working, but he pretended otherwise. Harry reached for his ladle but couldn't coordinate his movements.

"Leave it alone. A minute longer won't make a difference."

Harry's fingers slipped off the table and crawled up onto Draco's wrists. He tried to steady his breathing. "This isn't right."

"I know. That's what makes it so fun. But you've been asking for this since we got here, and I'm willing to oblige." Draco brushed his tongue gently under Harry's ear. "God… you taste as good as I remember. And you're so bloody cute."

Harry's cheeks warmed at the compliment. "You're really cute too. Even when you're all scowly. It annoys me how good-looking you are. You do it on purpose, I think, just to piss me off."

"Do what?"

"Make yourself look so h…hahh…"

Harry's brain switched off. Draco was kissing and sucking on his ear, and he couldn't think of anything but how good it felt. More, he thought. Please, more… Make all the pain go away.

Draco wrapped his other hand around Harry's throat, to hold his head firmly in place. His tongue played with the ridges of Harry's ear, like a warm, ticklish feather. "What I wouldn't give to put a rope around your neck and yank on it till you obey."

Harry whined in the back of his throat. Truth be told, he wanted that too. He wanted to stop caring about everything that was happening in the world, including this stupid potion he was supposed to be working on. He wanted to feel loved again, and he wanted to lose himself to someone else's control, if only for a little while.

"Jesus, Potter, you're really hard…"

Harry bit his lip, mind buzzing from the high of being wanted.

"Your hole is starving for attention, isn't it? How long has it been?"

Too long, Harry thought. He groaned when the other boy's body pressed against his. Draco's beautifully hard member rubbed against his bottom, teasing it through their clothes. "We should go to the prefects' bathroom."

"Or. We can do it right here. It won't take long. I'm fucking losing it already." Draco smiled when Harry started to push and rub backward against his hips. "There you go. You like it, don't you? That's my Potter…"

Harry looked up at the blackboard. He was unable to make out any of the instructions with his mind this scrambled—and he knew there were objections he should raise, but he could only think of one. "Anyone could walk in."

"Who cares?" Draco pressed more firmly against Harry's bottom. He was too drunk off his own lust to take the danger seriously. "Bloody hell… I wanna shag the ever-loving shite out of you right now."

Harry steadied himself against the desk while Draco unbuckled Harry's belt and shoved a hand into his trousers. Anyone could see us, he thought, smiling as fingers caressed the bare skin of his cock. Anyone…

"You missed having fun, didn't you? It's drooling all over in your pants. And I bet that adorable hole is hungry for me too."

Harry moaned in the affirmative, while the other boy loosened Harry's belt further and groped into the back part of his trousers. Harry's heart skipped into overdrive. "Yeah… Put your finger in." He leaned slightly forward, while Draco guided Harry's legs open with a gentle kick to each of his ankles.

"There it is… your tight little hole." Draco caressed it, then slipped in to the first knuckle of his middle finger. "It's missed me so much… You can tell by the way it's gripping on."

Harry was braced up over the desk, panting heavily, robes gathered to his side. If Lupin can take it dry, he thought, hoping this was leading to Draco putting in his cock, then maybe I can, too…

Draco removed his hand, spat on his fingers, and went back to penetrating Harry. "This is exactly how I want to see you, Potter. Bent over, offering yourself like a good boy."

Harry yelped when Draco's finger slid all the way in. He lurched upright for a moment, clenching all around it, unaware of how desperately he was moaning.

Draco leaned forward against him and murmured, "…Did that hurt?"

Harry clawed at the desk and nodded. "Yeah…"

"Good. You've been bad, and you deserved that. Now… do you like it?"

"I fucking love it…"

"Atta boy." Draco kissed Harry's shoulder over his robes. "Now stir your potion." But Harry did not want to. He wanted to focus on this instead—Draco's middle finger pushing in and out of his hole, stimulating him, twisting and curling in search of that spot that would inevitably make him beg.

After a minute of being massaged from the inside, a second finger tucked in, putting Harry into a frenzy of lust. His brain felt like it was overheating, and his cock twitched in the grasp of Draco's other hand. When a third finger slipped in, Harry was afraid, since they did not have any lube and it was really starting to hurt.

"Merlin, look at you… Does that greedy hole want something, Potter?"

Harry whined with a mixture of agreement and embarrassment. Someone might hear them if they walked by in the corridor, and how would they explain themselves?

"Does it wanna be filled?"

Harry nodded miserably and groaned into the desk. "Stop—teasing…"

"But I like messing with you."

Harry bent over more receptively while Draco repositioned himself, so he could search and stroke Harry's insides with less strain on his wrist.

"Mh… Right there. It feels good right there…"

"That's the spot, huh?" Draco leaned forward to kiss the back of Harry's neck. He pressed gently against where Harry's prostate was located.

"Fuck… rub on it." Sparks of pleasure burst through Harry's body, followed by the irresistible urge to urinate.

"God, I wanna put my dick in," Draco said, cheeks flushing with excitement. "But I think I'll wait till you've begged enough."

Harry's nails scraped over the grain of the desk. "Please… I don't wanna wait."

"Hm… well, that's a start. But I'd like to hear you say something really dirty, and then maybe…"

"We can talk about Neville's gardening?"

Draco laughed and buried his nose in the mess of Harry's dark hair. "If there's ever any doubt in that Niffler-sized brain of yours, Potter, I really do love you… especially when you say cute things like that."

Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling, or admitting, "I love you too."

It wasn't long before Draco's hand started to get tired from the awkward position they were in. And since Harry hadn't managed to say anything provocative enough, Draco pulled his hand out and spat all over it. He wrestled the Gryffindor back down when he attempted to stand up. "Hold on there. I'm not done with you."

Harry bent over as Draco's fingers slipped back in. "But I wanna fuck…"

Draco began a gentle corkscrewing motion, which elicited some of the most precious moans he had ever heard. "Mm… there we go. This'll rile you up, won't it? I wanna hear filth, Potter… I wanna hear you say the dirtiest things."

"I usually shit out of that hole, you know…"

Draco pulled his fingers out for a moment and pinched Harry roughly on the butt cheek.

"Ouch! Hey, that was mean."

"Serves you right," Draco said as he re-entered him. "And I ought to take some points, too, since you teased me relentlessly for the past half hour."

Harry opened his legs wider, deciding he would happily work to earn points back if Draco allowed him. "But I didn't tease…"

"Yes you did. Filthy Potter. Existing in front of me—it isn't fair."

"Excuse me for breathing."

"You're not excused. And I should take points for you not paying attention to what you should be doing." Draco eyed the abandoned potion, which was boiling far too briskly now. "Tsk! Naughty. If you want to earn those points back though, you can be a good boy and do as I say. How 'bout it? Turn and look at me."

Harry groaned sedately as Draco's fingers were extracted from his opening. He straightened slowly and turned to face the other boy. He leaned heavily against the desk, wishing they could find a bed somewhere, since shagging in the Potions classroom didn't seem like a brilliant idea.

Draco's grin was intolerably smug. "Did you miss me?"

"Yeah," Harry said shakily. He wondered what them playing with each other like this was supposed to mean in the long run. Were they together again? Draco did say he loved Harry just a minute ago…

"I missed you too. More than last time, I think." Draco adjusted Harry's robes so that they draped around his body normally. "It's a shame things had to be like this. But you did this to us, didn't you?"

Harry nodded dully, not caring what was meant by that—at least not now. We can fight about this later, he thought.

"That's what I thought." Draco stepped closer. "You know I've always been right, don't you? And deep down, you know you've always been wrong."

That isn't true. Sparing the argument for later, though, Harry drifted forward for a kiss.

Grinning, Draco leaned just out of reach of Harry's lips and said, "Open your eyes."

When Harry did, Draco stared directly into them, then stepped so close that Harry could feel Draco's breath against his own. He felt faint from the familiarity of that intimate feeling, and his head began to swim.

"I love how sweet you look when your eyes fawn at me like that."

Harry swallowed mutely but maintained the affectionate expression on his face. He couldn't help adoring Draco whenever they managed to get this close.

"I especially love when they're full of tears." Draco caressed the side of Harry's face, as if he were daydreaming about stemming an invisible tear.

"That…that's weird, Malfoy."

"I want to taste them."

Even weirder, Harry thought. What kind of boy was Draco, anyways? He wanted a rope around Harry's neck, and he also wanted to taste his tears? Did Draco get off on making him cry?

"Your eyes are so green. Like some of the rocks and creatures we can see from the Slytherin common room under the lake. When the sun glances off them just right."

Harry didn't know what to say, except: "That's… really poetic, Draco. Thank you."

"Did you know they aren't your mother's eyes at all?"

"Wh… huh?"

"Yeah. I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I've decided that they're not. I wouldn't have fallen in love with them if they were. They're not your mother's eyes, Harry, no matter what anyone else says. They're yours, and that's why I love them. If they were anybody else's, I wouldn't have—mmf…"

Harry was on Draco's mouth before he could say anything more. Whether or not it was a backhanded compliment, it was still one of the most beautiful things anyone had ever told him. Harry understood the heart behind it, and it lit him all on fire to be hearing Draco talk like this.

They fumbled a bit while Harry pushed Draco against the desk behind them. Harry's tongue found its way into Draco's mouth, and he caught hold of Draco's neck while he added more pressure to their lips.

I love you, Harry wanted to say with every kiss. I love you, I love you, I love you… everything you say is beautiful. Have all of me. Say more things to me like that. Tell me you want to be with me forever…

Harry growled when he felt teeth on his bottom lip. He kissed more hungrily, and sounds came out of him that he didn't recognize, but he didn't bother about what they were.

"Parseltongue?" Draco gasped excitedly against Harry's lips in between kisses. It scared and exhilarated him, to be hearing that quasi-Dark language being spoken while they made out. "I guess… mfh… that counts as you talking dirty… Think I'm a snake, do you?"

Harry pulled Draco towards him by yanking on either side of his robes. He was gone, lost in the other boy, having long forgotten who he was and where they were—until the door to the classroom swung open with a bang.

Draco stumbled sideways away from Harry and whirled around. He pressed the sleeve of his robes to his lips, which were swollen and red from Harry's passionate assault. His eyes widened at the delicate sound of Snape's voice.

"And what… may I ask, is going on here…?" Snape looked at Harry first, who was staring at him open-mouthed. "Mr. Potter? Since I am familiar with your sickness, do I even need to ask?"

Harry shut his robes, then combed his fingers through his hair. He knew he should have adjusted his trousers also but didn't want to draw attention to them if he could help it.

"You had your hands on Mr. Potter, Draco," Snape said diplomatically, eyes swerving toward the Slytherin in question.

Draco's face went deathly white. Putting even more distance between himself and Harry, he looked guiltily at his Head of House and stuttered. "I…I didn't, sir—"

"We all know what was going on here, and I must say I'm thoroughly disgusted."

Draco swallowed, eyes going eerily vacant as he stared into the center of Snape's chest.

"Professor," Harry said, rising up to Draco's defense, "we weren't doing anyth—"

"Then I suppose you would be fine with letting your robes hang freely the way they ought to—or are you hiding something, Potter?"

Harry's mouth hung open, but no sound came out.

"P—Please, Professor," Draco said, voice riddled now with terror, "d—don't tell my parents."

Harry couldn't help thinking Draco sounded like Professor Quirrell, which was incredibly out of character for him. He had never seen the other boy so frightened, except when they had been in the Forbidden Forest together as kids.

"I have no interest in ruining your life, Draco, even though I could have you both expelled for this." He paused to let that fact sink in, then turned a judgmental eye on Harry. "As long as you agree to stay away from Mr. Potter from this day forward, I will not inform your parents. But should Potter attempt to pursue you, you will let me know as soon as possible and avoid confronting him yourself. I don't want to hear even a hint of you being alone with this degenerate urchin—but if I do, I will send an owl to your parents straightaway. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco swallowed again with a shallow nod, stomach sinking with defeat.

"Good. As for you, Mr. Potter," Snape said, switching his tact, "your potion has been simmering unattended for too long, judging by the cloud of steam emanating from it. You have wasted my generosity by spending your time luring one of Slytherin's best students into your trap—which will not go unpunished, I assure you. But this also means your second attempt at an Invigoration Draught is just as useless as your first. Therefore, you will still be getting a zero on the assignment."

"But sir—!"

With a wave of his wand, Snape cleared away the brewing potion with, "Evanesco!"

Harry reeled from the emotional whiplash of what had just happened. He looked sideways at Draco, but Draco offered no support.

Snake! Harry thought. Go hide under a rock.

"You will not speak Parseltongue in my presence, Potter," Snape commanded loudly, "or I will have to assume they're threats and act accordingly."

Harry's throat clenched when more words wanted to spill out. He was furious, hurt, and felt betrayed by Draco's silence.

But at least now everything made sense. Harry understood why Snape had set this whole scenario up. It had been a trick. Snape had given the boys enough time and space to get comfortable and for their hormones to kick in. He had meant to interrupt them in a dramatic way like this, to scare the wits out of Draco. Harry had refused to heed Snape's warning about their relationship several weeks ago, and so Snape had taken the matter into his own hands. He had been true to his word, making sure Draco would be the one to put a stop to everything.

It was just odd how Snape had unintentionally brought them back together, only to rip them apart just as quickly…

Snape was completely unaware that they'd been mostly broken up until now. If he had not interfered, they likely wouldn't have spoken ever again. But now the air was somewhat cleared between them about a few things, and Harry felt like he knew for certain:

Draco loves me. He was only trying to get revenge when he pretended not to. And he might be a snake, Professor, but the joke's on you. I can talk to those.

"Get out of my sight!" Snape shouted at them both.

Draco rushed out of the classroom in a heart-pounding daze, followed by Harry when he had fixed his clothes and gathered all his things into his bookbag. Harry cast Snape a dirty look on his way out. Against every urge, he held his tongue.