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Light of Heaven	By : Draeconin Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 28741 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Light of Heaven

by Draeconin

E-mail: draeconin at gmail dot com

Category: Fantasy

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Harry/Draco

Warnings: Absolutely not canon. AU m/m slash language

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. If you don't recognize it, it's mine. Everything else belongs to the copyright holders. This disclaimer applies to all following chapters.

Summary: Harry and Draco's magic goes awry after an unusual bonding.

As has been said by many, "There is nothing new under the sun." Maybe not, but I hope you like what I've done with it.

Chapter One
Draco Malfoy sat bolt upright in his bed. Sweat, like dew, lay lightly on his milk-white skin, and had slightly dampened his pillow and the fine linen sheets beneath him. His platinum-blond hair was in disarray, and stuck wildly up from his scalp in all directions, unlike the normal, slicked-back look his mother insisted upon. Breathing heavily, blue eyes wide and staring, his thoughts and emotions were, to say the least, chaotic as he tried to recall the dream that had him in this condition. Slowly, it came back to him.
He had walked into the school's library, to find only Harry Potter there. As usual, he had started taunting the Gryffindor Seeker about his fame, his friends, his standing in the wizarding community... But this time Harry hadn't become angry. This time, Harry had just given him a gentle smile, walked over to him, gently but firmly took his face in his hands, and had given him the hottest, steamiest kiss he had ever dreamed of from anyone! Panic and shock had awakened him. But what did it mean? He couldn't be wanting a kiss from a boy... Could he? Ridiculous! And especially not from that damned prat, Harry Potter!
But as he tried to rationalise it all away, and calmed down somewhat, he became aware of something else. His young manhood was in a throbbing state of arousal. As disturbing as that was, he couldn't help himself; he was so hard, it hurt. He needed release. He hooked his silk pyjama bottoms down around his knees, then took hold of himself and started to gently stroke his length, thinking of the women in the wizard-picture porn book Blaise Zabini had given him, merely for helping him cheat on a potions test. He had only done it because he was curious about the female body, and why so many boys and men liked women so much. He had since looked through that book a few times, satisfying that curiosity.
The women were beautiful, of course, but try as he might, they didn't do anything more for him than looking at any other beautiful piece of art. It didn't help him this time, either. Somehow women seemed - incomplete? Yes, that felt like the right word. That...region between a woman's legs was disquieting and somewhat repulsive; not to mention all that fat on the chest. Mind you, the fat on Goyle's chest was far more distasteful, but distasteful was distasteful. Degree didn't matter that much. In fact, just thinking about it was preventing him from his release. So he tried to think of anyone - anything - else that might help him over the top; girls in the school, his own tumescent manhood, Harry Potter - 'NO!! NOT Harry Potter! Not...'
But Potter's image kept intruding, no matter how often or how violently he banished that picture from his mind. He had never been attracted to Potter! A few boys, slightly, but not Potter. But as he thought about it, he realised that he really didn't find all boys attractive; just ones that reminded him of Har... Potter: Potter being the pinnacle, of course. 'What am I thinking? Harry Potter is not attractive! Well, maybe just a...'
Eventually his thoughts came to a standstill while trying to get around a mental roadblock that he refused, at first, to acknowledge. Then, becoming intrigued with the workings of his own mind, he decided to continue his wank with Potter in mind; just to see if he could pinpoint why he was obsessing over the dark-haired Gryffindor. He remembered every angle of Potter's face and body that he'd ever seen, and then began reliving that amazing dream kiss. To his own amazement and trepidation, he found himself getting more and more aroused. Then finally, his back arching, only his head, shoulders and heels in touch with his mattress, Draco had the hardest orgasm of his life yet.
After cleaning himself up, he lay back down in his bed, staring at the ceiling, and feeling slightly ashamed of himself. For the first time in his fifteen years, he began to doubt himself. His self-image was completely shattered. "I'm not a - a poufter! Am I?" He whispered to himself. Yet he could no longer deny the emotions and desires that had overtaken his body and mind - not for all boys; just one special one. Feeling lost, confused, and totally alone, Draco, hating himself for his weakness, cried himself to sleep.

Harry woke, a sensuous smile on his lips. Such sweet dreams! Then his smile faded as he recalled the details. He'd been in the common room talking to Ron and Hermione, while other pupils milled about doing pretty much the same things they always did; then they'd all faded away, and the sneering voice of Draco Malfoy had filled his ears with the same old, tired phrases. He had turned towards the boy, looked into his eyes, and somehow knew that all that hatefulness was just a cover-up for Draco's insecurities and true feelings for him. They were feelings that Harry kept buried deep inside himself as well, and had sublimated in anger long ago when it appeared that Draco had apparently decided to become his enemy. But now, seeing beneath that facáde, those feelings had come flooding back. He had smiled and walked calmly over to the smaller boy. As he did, he saw fear, apprehension, and a severe case of nerves appear in Draco's eyes, to be replaced with shock, love, acceptance, and desire when Harry's lips covered his.
Harry had recognised that he wasn't attracted to girls a couple of years ago, but boys didn't seem to do it for him, either. But there was one boy who caught his attention all the time, and he hated it - the beautiful platinum blond. He'd done everything in his power to deny the attraction, sublimating those feelings with competitiveness and 'hatred', and had even pursued females as avidly as he could make himself do. But it hadn't worked. He rather liked the tactile sensations, but it never went any deeper than that, and he inevitably found himself pretending it was Draco. Then, in rejecting his errant thoughts, grew colder towards the person he was with.
Draco, now... But his snide attitude! And Harry couldn't abide bigotry of any kind, having grown up with it directed at himself. He knew what it felt like, and he knew that nobody deserved to be judged on anything other than their own individual merits.
Occasionally other boys could get his imagination going like no girl could, but only mildly. Only one boy put a fire in his heart, made his stomach clench, and made his clothing at the crotch become painfully tight. That had bothered him since their first meeting in Madam Malkin's, although then it had only confused him. Why was he so attracted to such a prat? And the son of one of his worst enemies, at that! Could the dream be telling the truth? Could all that nastiness just be a cover-up? Or was it just wishful thinking?
All this brooding had caused his morning erection to deflate, and he suddenly needed to piss. He jumped out of bed, grabbed some fresh clothes, a towel, and his toiletries, and headed first for the loo, then the showers. Completing his morning ablutions, he made his way back to the dorm rooms and his own space to finish dressing.
Looking in his mirror, he took stock of himself. He was just a fortnight away from his sixteenth birthday; five foot, six inches tall, broad shoulders for his age, and, at 135 lbs, he was slender, but not skinny. Due to the work the Dursley's made him do over the summers and his Quidditch practice, he was a lot stronger than he looked. He wasn't overly muscled, but nicely defined, he decided; a gently defined six-pack, tight abdomen; and a little better than average male package, judging from what he'd seen in the showers.
He didn't like to draw attention to himself though, so he deliberately left his hair messy so it would cover his scarred forehead. He'd even learned a charm to keep it that way most of the time, so the few times that Hermione or other good-willed female acquaintances fussed over his appearance, it wouldn't reveal that it could, in fact, be tamed. He'd never told anyone, but the reason it looked like that when he first came to Hogwarts, and at the beginning of every year, was because the Dursley's wouldn't spend money to get him haircuts - Mrs. Dursley just grabbed a hank of hair and chopped it off with a scissors. Continuing to dress in Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs while at Hogwarts aided his attempts at going unnoticed as well, although he was wealthy enough to buy a good wardrobe if he wanted to; or several for that matter. He didn't, because his aunt and uncle would have become suspicious. They never gave him any money, and they'd want to know just how he'd been able to afford clothes. If they had found out, they would at least try to force him to hand over his resources. The few times he'd actually needed to buy an article or two of clothing, he'd fobbed them off to the Dursley's as being charity gifts from his friends at Hogwarts.
As for his glasses; well, he didn't need them any more. The lenses were just plain glass while he wore them, but had an enchantment on them to distort anyone else' vision. After all, it wouldn't do to not be able to see an enemy if he lost them again. He'd already learned that lesson the hard way. So he'd secretly brewed a potion to correct his vision. To his surprise, he had found he was actually pretty good at potions, so long as Snape wasn't there to rattle him and peer over his shoulder. But the glasses did give him an emotional shield to hide behind; almost like a security blanket.
As Harry entered the dining area, he glanced to where Draco usually sat, and was surprised to catch the boy staring at him with a kind of strange, wistful look in his eyes. As soon as Draco realised that Harry was looking, however, he blushed and looked away - his usual brash mannerisms strangely lacking for a moment. Then Draco's back straightened, his usual supercilious sneer took over, and he'd turned and made some comment to his table-mates, who started laughing; well, snickering, anyway.
'Strange...' thought Harry, feeling a little heat in his own face, as well as some irrational resentment. After all, Malfoy's nastiness was a daily occurrence.
He continued to the Gryffindor tables, where Ron and Hermione had saved a seat for him. He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he didn't notice the curious glances they shot at him.
"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Ron. "Only, you seem to be a bit out of it."
"Hm? Yes, I'm fine, Ron. Just a little preoccupied, that's all."
"Y'sure, mate? We can talk later, if you like, where it's more private."
"No, that's all right, Ron. It's just something I have to work out on my own." Knowing of the centuries-old Weasley - Malfoy feud, Harry was sure that Ron would never understand.
"Well, if you're sure? You know you can talk to me anytime. And Hermione, of course." he quickly added, with a slight blush colouring his cheeks as he looked with puppy-dog eyes at the girl in question. Harry didn't notice.
"Yes, anytime, Harry." Hermione agreed.
"Thank you - both," Harry replied, still looking lost in his own thoughts. "Maybe I'll take you up on that sometime."
Harry had been sneaking covert, shy glances at the Slytherin tables, a fact that went completely over Ron's head, but didn't escape Hermione's attention. She kept a subtle watch on Harry for the rest of the meal before finally tracking down at whom he was looking. 'Draco Malfoy?' she thought, 'but Harry doesn't look angry, just thoughtful and - puzzled? It surely doesn't look like there's any anger there... Oh! Malfoy is peeking at Harry, too! But it doesn't look like either wants the other to see that they're looking. But they hate each other! What is going on?'
Ron noticed her distraction, and knowing Hermione, figured she was chasing down the mystery of Harry's behaviour, so he just gently took her hand under the table and let her think.
Hermione noticed him taking her hand, gave his a gentle squeeze, gave him a quick smile, and then went back to trying to puzzle things out. Again, Harry failed to notice.
Harry didn't want to be obvious about his interest in Draco, so when he was through eating, he decided to leave without waiting to see what the blond was going to do. He told his friends he'd see them later in class, then got up and left. Intent on digging up the root of Harry's behaviour, Ron and Hermione scrambled in order to be able to follow him out.
As they were leaving the dining hall, Hermione excused herself from Ron, whispering that it might be easier for Harry to open up if she was the only one talking to him. Ron looked stubborn for a moment, but when he saw the determined look in Hermione's eyes, he gave up and agreed. Hermione took a quick look around to see if anyone was close, then again hurried to catch up to Harry. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him into a quiet corner. "Harry! May I ask you a question?"
Harry had been surprised by the move, but he guessed he shouldn't have been. "Of course you may, Hermione. What?"
"What's going on between you and Malfoy? I mean, I saw you looking at him an awful lot, and he was looking at you, too, when you weren't looking. And it wasn't your usual glaring or his usual sneering, either!"
"He was? And he wasn't..." Harry blurted with a surprised and pleased expression on his face. Then he panicked. "But I wasn't... I mean - it doesn't matter... I mean, nothing's going on!" Harry was flustered and blushing furiously, and getting angry about being embarrassed. He was oddly pleased that Draco had been looking at him, too, and that it hadn't been in an angry way. Still, Hermione shouldn't be poking her nose into his business. That brought him up short. What business? There wasn't - there couldn't - be anything between him and Draco. Right? Right! But he didn't quite believe it. Uneasy, he decided to think about it later. "Just leave me alone, 'Mione." Harry stalked off to Potions class, but as he calmed down, he realised that he did need to talk to someone, and Hermione would keep his confidences. He was pretty sure of that. He made up his mind to try to set up a one-on-one with her sometime later that day. As it happened, he didn't have a chance to do so.
Hermione was a bit set back by Harry's reaction and behaviour, but somehow it all fit in. As she watched him walk off, a strange thought entered her mind. 'Harry couldn't be...interested in Malfoy, could he?' She'd seen a lot of classmates, girls and boys, with crushes. She'd even had a couple, although this thing with Ron felt a lot deeper than any crush; and Harry certainly had some of the symptoms of a crush. But Harry had always shown an interest in girls - hadn't he? Come to think of it, though, those few relationships hadn't lasted long. They'd ended just as the girl was getting serious. But Harry didn't seem the 'love them and leave them' type; not at all. He was always concerned about the welfare of others. But how could hate turn to - what? Love? Infatuation? Now even more deeply intrigued with this mystery, she continued on to class.

Professor Snape was not in a good mood - at all. Dumbledore had requested that he scrap his carefully crafted lesson plans and concentrate on areas that would assist in the seemingly inevitable war between Light and Dark wizardry. He'd do it, but his mood meant that others were going to feel the bite of his tongue.
He swept into his classroom, his smoldering gaze taking in the suddenly aborted conversations, and the student's bodies straightening in their chairs to give him their attention - except for one. Harry Potter was rooting in his book bag, looking for something.
"Mr. Potter!" As the boy jerked upright, facing him, he continued. "Five points from Gryffindor for not paying attention in class!"
"I was just getting my books and supplies out for class, sir!" Harry replied. Harry knew better than to try to remonstrate with Snape, but this patent unfairness had torn the words from his lips.
"And another five, for questioning my judgment!" Snape snapped, pleased to have made the Gryffindor react. He really didn't like teaching children; it took away from valuable potions research time. He only did it as a Wizard's Debt to Dumbledore - a side-effect of the last magic war, wherein Dumbledore saved his life too often. He didn't like to think about it, but was honour-bound.
At this latest blow to the Gryffindor points list, most of the Slytherins in the room started snickering, and a few of Harry's Gryfindor housemates were glowering; some at Harry, some at Professor Snape, and some at the snickering Slytherins. Harry lowered his head so that his hair would at least partially hide his angry blush. Oddly enough, Draco hadn't joined in his Housemates' taunting laughter.
Severus Snape knew he was being unfair, but at that moment he didn't really care. The thoughts and emotions behind his attitude towards Harry Potter were a bit complicated. He'd made a terrible misjudgment at their first meeting in thinking that the boy had grown up knowing his history and fame, and had concluded that Harry would be insufferably full of himself. So, he'd determined to take it upon himself to take "The Famous Harry Potter" down a notch. Teach him some humility - show him that not everyone was going to cater to him. It wasn't until weeks later that he'd found out the truth - too late to correct things while still keeping his pride and dignity intact. So now his pride, dignity and guilt had him looking for constant justifications for his behaviour, making him keep acting the same way towards the boy - and even harsher. Of course, he also had to keep his distance for other, covert, reasons as well. He couldn't afford to like the boy.
He addressed the entire class. "We'll be deviating from the material assigned." At that, there were many stares of disbelief and murmurs of protest, although no-one dared say anything out loud. "We'll be addressing the matter of magical compatibility. As most of you should know, each magic user has a certain power level that is innate. This level does not become a constant until adulthood, but in most cases a child's magical potential is commensurate with those of his or her peers. Some special circumstances can enhance those power levels, however. One of those is in finding a Power Partner. Mr. Potter, tell the class what a Power Partner is!"
Harry had the urge to sink deeper into his seat at the question, never having heard of such a thing. "I'm afraid I don't know, Professor," he replied.
"Imagine. A Gryffindor afraid," Snape japed. Harry found his temper rising, as most of the Slytherins again erupted into snickers at his expense. "One would think that someone of your reputation would attempt to learn as much as possible, Mr. Potter," the professor sneered. Harry's angry blush was his only response. Snape looked around the rest of the classroom at the sparse number of hands in the air. He noted that while Draco Malfoy didn't have his hand up, he was, himself, sneering at Potter. Irrationally irritated by this, he drawled "Mr. Malfoy? By your expression, I take it you know the answer?"
Draco casually looked up at his teacher and replied "A Power Partner is someone whose magical abilities enhance and complement your own. The enhancement is made more powerful if the partners have an emotional involvement, but it is not necessary."
"Quite right, Mr. Malfoy. Five points for Slytherin. Although one can have only one Power Partner at a time, there can be any number of people that one could find compatible, to one degree or another. That does not mean that everyone has a Power Partner, or that if they do, they would be able to find or recognise him or her. To that end, today's lesson will be learning, then brewing, a potion that will, if one is within the range of the spell, allow you to find a Power Partner."
Hermione spoke up "Professor, how does one know when they have found their Power Partner?"
"When you drink the potion, you will develop a blue glow around yourself, and feel yourself drawn towards the nearest compatible person. That person's aura will develop a similar glow, at least to your vision. The brightness of the colour will depend upon just how compatible they are." On a whim, he added "If you're very lucky, Miss Granger, you might see golden highlights as well."
"Sir?" She said; requesting, in that one word, more information.
"Compatibility on an emotional level as well, Miss Granger."
"Oh." she replied distractedly, writing it down, and then "OH!" She blushed furiously.
"I wouldn't worry if I were you, Granger" Malfoy sneered, breaking in. "I wouldn't expect a Mudblood should find such a connection."
"Stuff it, Malfoy" Harry spoke up. "Bigotry doesn't become you. I thought you were smarter than to blindly believe such ignorant prejudice."
Harry's interference served both to interrupt Hermione's defence of herself, and to cause Draco pause. Had Harry Potter given him a backhanded compliment? It stung, but... Draco recovered a bit and sneered at Harry but, even less than earlier, his heart wasn't in it. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Potter might have a point. Right: on top of his head, maybe. Still...
"If we're through with this interruption, gentlemen?" Snape broke in. He then went on to give the list of ingredients and the necessary steps to create the potion, writing them down on the chalkboard as he did so. One of those ingredients was three drops of the brewer's blood. Being a blood potion, it was considered almost of the Dark. In normal times, such a potion wouldn't have been taught at Hogwarts except to Advanced Potions pupils in their seventh year. The fact that it was now being taught to normal fifth-year pupils was not a good sign. It would take the rest of the week to make, and successful potions would be tried on Friday.
As little as Harry liked Potions class, and with Snape's caustic remark about his ignorance to spur him on, Harry managed to get through the week without making a mistake, despite Snape's constant sniping. The resultant potion was an almost transparent gray, with an oil-on-water rainbow colour throughout. Neville Longbottom had again, somehow, managed to get his to blow up. Looking around, he saw several differently coloured potions, although about two-thirds of the class seemed to have had the same results as he, including, of course, Hermione and, unfortunately, Malfoy. Ron's had turned a canary yellow.
Professor Snape inspected each potion, disposing of those that didn't measure up, giving and taking points at random. Those pupils whose potions didn't measure up would have to keep trying until they succeeded, while still keeping up with the other work that would be assigned.
"Well, Mr. Potter," Snape sneered ('It's amazing how many variations a sneer can have', Harry thought. 'And by now, I must have seen them all.) after he'd tested Harry's effort, "it looks as though you might have finally done something correctly." He then addressed the whole class again.
"Right. Those of you who have, somehow, learned something and managed to not completely foul up your potions, may drink them now, and say the spell. If you feel a pull, follow it; even it's outside this classroom. The potion's range is not enough to have to leave Hogwarts grounds, so anyone doing so will have House Points removed, and serve detention at the very least! Expulsion is a possibility."
The pupils with successful potions glanced around nervously, waiting to see who'd go first. Malfoy, seeing this, grinned maliciously at their 'weakness,' grabbed his own potion, and with a bravado he really didn't feel, exclaimed "Bottoms up!" drained his potion, and said the spell "le compagnon de pouvoir de d'couverte.". Spurred by his rival's action, Harry was only a split second behind, and within a minute or two, everyone had done the same.
Nothing seemed to happen for a while, then about one-third of the pupils developed a blue glow about them; most dimly, a couple brightly, but only three of the dimly-lit ones found their "double-P" within the classroom. A Slytherin and Gryfindor matched up, and Seamus Finnegan found Neville Longbottom. Neville would still have to re-make the potion, but he wouldn't have far to go to find his partner. The others wandered out. Hermione, Harry noticed, had a middle-strength glow about her as she wandered out. Ron looked very sad and upset as Hermione left the room. Harry felt sorry for him, and wanted to go comfort him, but found it difficult to care enough to move. He frowned slightly at himself. This wasn't right. It wasn't like him at all. Then a flash of platinum blond hair caught the corner of his eye.
Distracted from other concerns, Harry looked over at Draco, but didn't see a glow developing around him, and Harry didn't seem to be developing one of his own, either. Still, he couldn't look away. Draco must have felt him looking, because he turned around. Harry caught Draco's eyes with his own (or was it the other way around?). He saw Draco's facial muscles work as he tried to break free, but neither could. But in the dream-like mental state Harry was in, he couldn't bring himself to care about that very much. He wondered if all this was due to the potion. He supposed it had to be. But nothing else was happening; no glow, anyway. Just as he had decided that nothing else was going to happen, something did; but it was nothing he was prepared for. He felt his feet leave the floor, just as a bright golden light surrounded him. He was acutely aware that the same seemed to be happening to Draco. It all seemed to happen in just a couple of seconds. There was a blinding flash, then a warm, comfortable darkness.

When the potions started taking effect, Snape was pleased and surprised by how many of the pupils had a positive reaction, though he refused to show it. The ones who had no reaction were disappointed, of course, but that was beside the point. He watched as Seamus Finnegan "found" Neville Longbottom, with one raised eyebrow - a sign of mild astonishment, due to his opinion of Longbottom. The others left the room to find where their pulls led them. No gold tints, but that was hardly surprising. That only happened about once per every 3,000 power partners. "Those of you who failed your potion, study up on it until the end of class time. You will have a chance to try again before end of semester. Mr. Mirabille, Miss Sopharr; Mr. Finnegan and Mr. Longbottom," he said, addressing the pupils who had found they were Power Partners while in the classroom, "you may adjourn to the Great Hall to explore your bond. Those who were successful but have no discernible partner in the area may have the rest of the period as free time. Quietly!" he added, as the pupils started whispering amongst themselves. Order restored, Snape returned to his desk.
Potter hadn't started glowing, which allowed Snape a small feeling of victory about his judgment, but he was disappointed that Malfoy, his favourite Potions student, also hadn't shown a reaction. Then it happened. Both boys floated into the air, while a bright golden glow quickly grew around each. A blue-gold rope of energy emerged from the middle of each boy's chest and reached out to the other. The thick tendrils met half-way and became one, then the light output started getting stronger. The boys slowly floated towards each other, pulled together by the energy tendrils, despite Snape's attempts to break whatever was happening. Finite Incantatum didn't work, nor did any other spell-breaker he knew. Despite his dislike of most of his pupils, and lack of outward reaction, he was almost frantic with worry about what might be happening.
When he realised that nothing he did was going to work, he yelled at the other pupils to get out - NOW! Some were so fascinated with what was happening that he had to shove them towards the doors in order to break their concentration. One of those pupils, however, refused to obey him - of course. Ronald Weasley. The youngest male Weasley just stood there with his mouth open, staring, helpless to do anything to be of aid, but refusing to leave his friend.
When everyone else was out of the room, he looked again at what was happening. The two boys didn't look distressed in the least. In fact, despite their closed eyes, they had nearly identical expressions of pleased, even joyous surprise on their faces. They were nearly touching, now. Snape didn't have the least idea what would happen when they did, so he quickly cast protective wards around the boys, Ronald Weasley, and himself. "Don't keep staring, Weasley! Get down and cover your eyes!" He had to yank the redhead down behind a worktable. Harry and Draco's arms wrapped around one another, their cheeks touched, and there was an explosion of light. When Snape was able to see again, both boys lay on the floor, unconscious, glow absent, but still in each others arms.
Snape started snapping orders. "Mr. Weasley! If you can pull yourself together, inform Madam Pomfrey that she will shortly have patients! Then go tell the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall of events, and have them meet me in the hospital wing! Move!"
Ron seemed to wake out of whatever dazed trance he'd been in, looked at Professor Snape, snapped out a "Yes, sir!," and ran off on his errands at breakneck speed.
Snape cast Mobilicorpus on the boys, and with them in tow, quickly set off for the hospital ward, scattering those curious pupils who hadn't gone any further than the corridor outside the classroom. "Mr. Weasley will have a month of detention for ignoring authority and recklessly endangering himself." he muttered. "And fifty points from Gryffindor!" Feeling better, he continued on his way.
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Light of Heaven