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Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Tasks	By : QueenB Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 5179 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in anyway, shape or form. The rights of such belong solely to J.K Rowling. I do not make any money or accrue any monetary benefit on this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
June passed into July and the days grew longer and hotter. The third task failed to materialize. Although Harry hinted and prodded the sorcerer to give him his final magical assignment, the man refused to do so. He told Harry he was only obligated to reward him for his hard work. He was under no geas to pose the task itself in any timely fashion.
So the days passed, one blending into the next. Every day brought a new delight and surprise as Snape showed Harry the grounds and revealed the hidden treasures of his home. The formerly barred doors were opened to the youngster, revealing rooms of subdued yet stylish splendor with curios and artifacts gathered from around the world. Perhaps Snape’s house wasn’t as filled with the magnificent artwork Draco bragged about but his showed a life richly lived with learning increasing with each foreign encounter.
While Draco continued to shirk his chores whenever he could, Harry was pressed into taking on more work. He proved to be more than a dab hand at potions, just as he’d said, and often helped Snape in his underground lab.
In that enclosed space, he was more and more aware of the man’s dominating presence. Those neat hands with their adept fingers stirred, chopped, minced, blended ingredients and cradled his equipment with an economy of movement and a lover’s tenderness that caused Harry to think very unwholesome thoughts. Time and again, the sorcerer noted his flushed skin and asked with concern whether the heat from the cauldron fires was proving too much for him.
The shorter nights brought no relief. Harry would lie in bed, stroking himself, trying to summon Draco’s image and seeing only the dark-eyed sorcerer instead. His dreams were filled with thoughts of being embraced by those lean arms, stroked by the supple fingers and kissed by that narrow-lipped mouth. What would it feel like to have the man’s skin pressed tight against his own? What wicked things would the sorcerer do if he had Harry in his bed?
It was tempting to enlarge the Mirror of Erised to see his desire take form in its silvery depths. But Harry didn’t dare. If he didn’t see what he feared and wanted with equal force, then perhaps he could keep it at bay.
He didn’t hold out much hope for that. In any case, the mirror had to be saved for a special time. But his mission to save Draco was assuming less and less force with every passing day.
One way or another, something had to be done and soon. Otherwise, Harry was going to burst with all his pent-up feelings.
__________
One afternoon, Snape ordered Harry to put down his ladle. “I’ll set the cauldron to simmer and stir itself magically. It will keep for a few hours. Walk with me, Potter.”
Snape led Harry outside, after watching him shed his robes. Not having any notion he would be here this long, Harry hadn’t brought many changes of clothing. He’d cleaned his clothes often and Transfigured some of his bedding into new T-shirts. He was still wearing the same articles of clothing more often than he liked.
The sorcerer didn’t seem to mind his Muggle wear. Actually, he kept running his eyes over Harry’s body in those searching glances whenever he thought Harry wasn’t watching. It gave Harry fleeting hopes that, perhaps, there was more than contempt for him in the enchanter’s mind.
They were walking to a secluded section of the grounds, an area Harry hadn’t been to before now. This area was oddly neglected, with overgrown thorn bushes, ragged uncut grass, scrubby trees and stony ground everywhere. So dense was the foliage that Snape had to push himself through unyielding bushes to clear the path.
It was very uninviting compared to the neatness of the rest of the property. Why would the powerful magic wielder allow it to remain in such a state? Before he could ask, Snape waved his hand and muttered a long chain of words that sounded too guttural to be Latin.
The world around them seemed to blur. Then, out of nowhere, a large structure wavered into view.
Harry’s eyes widened. A fountain had appeared, several yards in diameter and at least ten feet high. Stone dolphins, mermaids, seahorses and Krakens wound in forms too sinuous to be mere clay around the base of it. A giant fish reared up from the center of the round structure, water burbling from its mouth in a continuous stream to flow back into the basin.
The grounds surrounding it had changed in appearance as well, revealing an orderly swatch of neatly trimmed grass and a large willow tree with its branches swaying just over the fountain. At the base of the tree was a broad wooden bench that encircled it completely.
“This is my fountain. A charm keeps it from being seen by anyone until the proper incantation is uttered. Then anyone I wish may view it. I find it very soothing to rest here after a long day of brewing.” His voice grew quieter. “You may come here whenever your chores permit.”
“It’s totally…it’s incredible, sir. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Thank you,” Harry answered humbly, aware of what a gift Snape was bestowing upon him.
That mellow light was in the sorcerer’s eyes again. Obviously this secluded hideaway meant a great deal to him. He cleared his throat and resumed a brisker tone. “As you’ll note, the artwork dates back to the –”
“Oh, you have koi fish!” Harry dropped to his knees on the lip of the fountain and looked with delight into its shallow depths. Silver carp, gold ones, white, black, blue and pale cream ones with red splotches on their backs fluttered like finny fairies in the clear water. They drifted towards the two men, probably expecting to be fed.
The sorcerer stared, surprise and approval in that black gaze. “You recognize them?”
Harry nodded vigorously. “My parents took me to the zoo when I was younger. They had a tank filled with these fish, imports from Japan. Koi are supposed to symbolize love and friendship, aren’t they?” Harry flushed when he realized what he’d just said. Merlin, why’d he blurt out something like that? That would give him away, for sure.
Snape must have missed the emotion behind Harry’s outburst. “Very good, Potter. Such erudition is the last thing I’d expect from James – “
“From James Potter’s son. Yeah, I know.” Harry leaped to his feet again, embarrassment swept away by anger. “Listen, I don’t care what my dad did to you when you were a kid. It’s stupid and a pain in the arse to keep getting picked on because of something that happened before I was even born! I’m not James Potter. I’m Harry.
For a moment, the two faced each other, Harry pissed off and Snape stunned into speechlessness. The sorcerer appeared to be fighting to give expression to his emotions. Finally, he whispered in a steely voice, “Do not take that tone with me, Mr. Potter.”
“Fine. Sir,” Harry bit out. He had the feeling the other man had been about to say something else. An apology, maybe? No, the old bastard was too much of a prat to admit he was in the wrong, much less say he was sorry.
Snape’s face settled into its usual rigidity. “The fountain needs cleaning – ”
Harry didn’t bother to listen. He whipped out his wand and Transfigured a net from a branch lying on the ground. Turning his back on Snape, he began cleaning dead leaves out of the fountain with tense, angry jerks.
“Do not damage my fish, Mr. Potter. They are far more valuable than any offspring of James Potter, you may count on that.”
Harry made no answer, only continued to sweep every piece of litter from the rippling waters. He didn’t notice when the sorcerer left. He told himself he didn’t give a rat’s arse.
__________
Harry made sure to wash himself very carefully. He wanted to look his best tonight. He would have liked to use the comb but told himself it was best saved for his actual escape, like the mirror. He settled for wetting down his hair and hoped that would be enough.
At dinner he pointedly spoke only to Draco. The prince was delighted with Harry’s attention although they fumbled to find common ground. Sticking to the topic of schooling, Harry asked about Durmstrang.
“I know they say we’re only interested in the Dark Arts there. And I’ll admit that’s part of Durmstrang’s attraction,” Draco said, with an airy wave of his hand. “But what we learn is that magic isn’t inherently good or evil. It’s the purpose to which it is put that determines its nature. For instance, Harry, would you think a spell for skinning someone was evil?”
Harry frowned. “Well, yeah. I should say so.”
“But what if it was used for skinning a dead animal, something you were preparing for a dinner, instead?”
“Oh. I guess that would be okay,” Harry admitted.
Draco beamed one of his lovely smiles. “You see? At Durmstrang, we’re taught to use the so-called Dark Arts properly, in their rightful context. We’ve been much maligned by outsiders who’ve never so much as set foot in our halls.”
“That’s because Durmstrang is made Unplottable like Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and various other wizarding communities around the world. It’s hardly open to the general public,” Snape drawled.
Don’t look at him. Harry asked, “Would you show me Durmstrang sometime, Draco?”
“Only if you were willing to show me Hogwarts,” Draco countered, his eyes gleaming.
“I don’t see why – ” Harry began.
“Don’t make any rash promises, Potter. Don’t forget you’re dealing with a Malfoy. Draco may have gone to Durmstrang. But the Malfoys have been in Slytherin house for generations,” Snape was swift to point out. Harry didn’t miss the word “promises”. Did Snape know about the vow he’d given to Draco to rescue him? What else could he mean?
“I’m also a prince and my word is good for something…unlike that of a Mudblood.” Draco didn’t bother to hide his contempt and it distorted his face in a way that made Harry sick.
Snape’s expression went blank as stone. “I am comfortable with my Mudblood status. Are you with your manners, child?”
“Just because you’re old enough to be my father hardly makes me a child.”
“No, you’re puerile behavior does that without any help from me.”
Draco was opening his mouth to retort when Harry gripped his hand beneath the table. Things were getting out of hand. He wanted to ignore Snape not antagonize him and he asked, “Draco, tell me more about your home. Did you say you had white peacocks?”
“Do not interrupt, Potter. Your manners are as bad as Draco’s.”
“Potter this. Potter that,” Draco mocked. “You’re a real conversationalist, aren’t you, Snape? No wonder Harry’s father picked on you all the time when you were younger. You must have been such a – ”
Snape went chalk white, his eyes becoming black pits. The dishes on the table rattled loudly, a display of wandless magic that raised the hairs on Harry’s neck. “Mr. Malfoy, I don’t care how much your father values you. Mention that subject in my hearing again and you will regret having been born. Do you understand me?”
Fright flickered over Draco’s face before he settled for defiance. Dinner was completed in pained near-silence. Draco resumed talking to Harry in low undertones, leaning close to him, his lips almost brushing his ear. In spite of his initial intention of rebuffing the grim, tight-lipped sorcerer, Harry was achingly aware of every movement, every intake of breath and every chuff of anger from the menacing figure seated across the table.
Again, the sorcerer called a halt at his choosing, not theirs. The table was tapped and the food disappeared mid-dessert.
“You, Draco, are to finish that chore I set you from two days ago. I will look over your work so do not think to shirk it. Potter, come with me.”
The blond prince sniffed and affected indifference. “Anything that gets you out of my hair,” he said in his bored drawl, inspecting his nails for dirt.
The two young men stood up from the table, victory evident in every movement of the Malfoy prince. When Snape brushed past them, the blond took the opportunity to press a hasty kiss to Harry’s lips. The fleeting embrace caused Harry to start just a little. He snuck a glance at Snape but the man had left the room already; he hadn’t seen Draco’s furtive kiss and Harry was glad of that.
Already, he was regretting his decision to ignore Snape or lead on the prince. He didn’t want the sorcerer to believe that he returned Draco’s affection in any way. Harry tried to tell himself it was because it would make it easier to escape later if the sorcerer didn’t suspect his true intention of rescuing the Malfoy prat.
When had he started thinking of Malfoy as a prat? Right from the beginning, no doubt. Draco didn’t improve on acquaintance. Oh, he tried to act like a decent bloke but his prejudices just sprang up in every conversation.
But Harry had given his word to rescue him. He couldn’t abandon Draco just because he didn’t like his opinions about Muggles and mixed bloods.
A waspish voice came from the hallway. “Potter? Are you deaf? I told you to come here.” Harry heaved a put-upon sigh and followed.
Draco was right about one thing. Snape really didn’t know how to talk to people. The conversation by the koi pond had seemed amiable enough until Snape had to go make that crack about his dad. Guess the man couldn’t be expected to react well when reminded of James Potter. So what hope did Harry have?
Snape was waiting for him outside the kitchen. He waved a hand and made sure the door was firmly shut before dragging Harry along by the arm. His grip was punishing, the bony fingers digging painfully into Harry’s flesh.
“Hey! Don’t pull! Stop this! STOP!!” Harry fought to get free and finally launched a hard kick at the other man’s ankle.
Snape snarled and flung Harry with bone-rattling force against the nearest wall. Harry gave a cry of pain as agony flared in his back. The two faced each other, their chests heaving with pain and rage. Snape’s jaw worked as he visibly beat back his anger.
“You…are injured.”
“You have a gift for stating the obvious,” Harry gritted out, hurling the man’s words back at him. He pressed a hand to his back. The pain was a live thing, throbbing like another heartbeat under his fingers. He turned away his face so Snape wouldn’t see the tears that had sprung to his eyes.
“Perhaps I was a little too abrupt in my handling of…the situation.”
“If that’s your idea of an apology, it’s absolutely gash!” Harry snapped.
“You haven’t exactly apologized for bruising my ankle, now have you?” The sarcasm had returned.
Harry swallowed but kept silent. He was damned if he was going to say he was sorry for defending himself. “Out of my way, Snape. I don’t care what chore you’ve got for me. It’ll have to wait until I’m less sore.” He pushed at the man to ascend the stair and go to his room. A firm but less bruising grip on his arm stopped him.
“Let me tend to you.”
Harry stared pointedly at the arm restraining him. “I really don’t want you touching me right now,” he said coldly.
“Understandable,” Snape replied, sounding truly regretful. “Yet you have become injured under my roof and, regardless of what impression Draco seeks to give of me, I am neither a monster nor an ungracious host. Let me heal you.”
The two magic wielders stared at each until Harry nodded stiffly. He forced himself to move after Snape, although it was almost more than he could bear. The sorcerer’s arm swept out and pulled him close to his body. Harry tried to pull away.
“Don’t be stubborn, Potter. I merely wish you to lean on me so I might bear your weight.”
Harry hesitated and then grudgingly let himself relax into Snape’s side. He realized this was the first time he’d been touched by the older man since letting Snape rub balm into his skin and then he’d only had contact with the man’s hands.
This close, he was achingly aware of the cloud of black hair. It emitted a piney scent that was very agreeable. He was pressed against Snape’s side, feeling the rangy strength of the man’s lean hard form. The taller man’s whole body exuded odors, differing here and there. One moment, Harry smelled lavender, the next basil and in another shift of his stance fennel and violets.
Probably from all his brews, Harry thought dazedly. He leaned closer, letting the hair brush his cheek. So swept up was he in that intoxicating aroma, he barely noticed as they Apparated to his room.

TBC
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Tasks