Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Professor Monroe	By : Athey1024 Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 15724 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 25
Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter. This is a work of fanfiction and no profit is being made. It is a for-fun endeavor and no infringement is intended.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
“Are you ready for the next one?” the Unspeakable asked suddenly, drawing both of their attention back to him.

“Next one?” Harry asked and his eyes fell back onto the lacquered box with a returning sense of dread. Even Maximilian looked bewildered now.

“There's another?” he asked in surprise.

“We hold two prophecies on file where Harry Potter was identified as the subject. I brought both,” the man replied simply.

Harry's jaw floundered for a moment before he pulled himself back together and gave a shaky nod.

“Return the one from the bowl to the box and then put the second one in it's place,” the man instructed and Harry did as he was told. As he picked up the second one, he looked close to read the tag.

C. I. V to Y. M. B

(?)Lord Voldemort, (?)Albus Dumbledore, and Harry Potter

Harry had no idea who these initials might refer to, and thought it was likely even if he knew the names to go with them, he'd have no clue who the people were.

“C. I. V? Is that the Seer, Casandra Vablatsky?” Maximilian asked with raised brows as he aimed the question at the Unspeakable. The man remained silent and Harry figured that he probably wasn't going to answer the question. Steeling himself, Harry set the orb into the bowl and sat back down in his chair. The Unspeakable then tapped his wand on the bowl, just as he had before, and it pulsed and flashed before a cone of light shot into the air over the table and projected an image.

This time the woman that could be seen there appeared quite old with thinning, stringy gray hair and a heavily lined face. Her eyes were also completely clouded over with cataracts, perhaps, and she was rocking slightly in place while sitting cross-legged on the floor. Before her was a small fire pit that had what looked like a pile of various herbs sitting on a metal grill over the flames. Heavy white smoke raised from the herbs in spinning tendrils. The woman's head lulled to the side slightly before a smile curled her lips and she spoke.

“The Sun is in Scorpio with Pluto and Mars, and All Hallows Eve brings bad tidings for the Boy-Who-Lived once again. Three deadly tasks will be faced, and with them The Power will rise. As the third task closes, the Boy-Who-Lived will find himself before the One-Who-Flies-from-Death, and The Power that was built will restore what once was lost.” The old Seer paused and let her head lull from side to side a few times, humming under her breath and not once blinking the clouded, unseeing eyes.

“With the end of summer will come great change for The-Boy-Who-Lived and a new path will be forged. Ally will be revealed as foe, and greatest foe will become ally. Friendships will be tested, made, and lost. Light will shine upon the darkness revealing the truth. The Greater Good will fall, but wizarding Britain will prosper for it.”

Her head flopped forward and her whole body shook for a moment before she jerked upright and smiled thinly. The image then faded away in a puff of smoke and mist as the light dimmed from the orb, leaving nothing more than a faint misty glow.

Harry let a shuddering breath escape his lungs.

“I assume that this one is not fulfilled,” Maximilian asked in an airy tone that was betrayed by the breathless nature of his voice.

“No. This one is in play now,” the Unspeakable answered roughly.

Harry turned his gaze on Maximilian. “Can you repeat this one too?”

“Yes,” Maximilian said, still seeming a bit overwhelmed himself, although his eyes were once again taking on that excited gleam. “It began, 'The Sun is in Scorpio with Pluto and Mars, and All Hallows Eve brings bad tidings for the Boy-Who-Lived once again.' I would have to check the astrological charts from the time to be sure, but I suspect that this line denotes the region in the night's sky that the sun, pluto and mars resided during the fall of last year. I would assume so, at least, given the next line. 'Three deadly tasks will be faced, and with them The Power will rise. As the third task closes, the Boy-Who-Lived will find himself before the One-Who-Flies-from-Death, and The Power that was built will restore what once was lost.'”

“I don't quite understand that,” Harry said with a frown. “Who is the One-Who-Flies-from-Death? And what's this about a Power rising and restoring what was lost?”

“Well, I believe The-One-Who-Flies-From-Death refers to Voldemort. 'Vol de mort', in French, translates to Flight from Death, so... that one seems fairly obvious.”

Harry blinked and gaped slightly. Voldemort meant Flight from Death? Seriously?

“As for the Power Rising part, well in many forms of old ritual magic, when the spell was performed independently, by someone with very little access to their own magic, the ritual can be supplied greater power by having a set of difficult challenges overcome in preparation for the final ritual. At some point, people noticed that, under the right circumstances, magic would actually reward hard work. The more difficult it was to get to the end, the more power would be built up and the more effective the final ritual would be.”

“Wait – are you saying that the reason Voldemort got me entered into the tournament, leading up to his resurrection, was so that it would build up more power for his ritual?!” Harry exclaimed as he was overwhelmed with a sudden wave of comprehension and tremendous annoyance. Of course, it also felt somewhat relieving as well. He had often wondered what the point was in all that Tournament nonsense when all that was truly necessary to get Harry to the graveyard, was for Crouch Jr. to get him to touch a portkey. Surely it would have been a lot easier to just hand Harry an object that had been turned into a portkey. Harry had trusted 'Moody' more than enough to just accept something handed to him by the professor. Harry couldn't quite understand what the point had been in putting Harry through so much ridiculous nonsense when it really didn't seem necessary at all.

But now, it seemed, there had actually been a point to it all after all. There had actually been a reason that Harry had to go through all that crap, for Voldemort to resurrect. Of course, that definitely didn't make it alright – it meant that Harry had been outcast, and terrified, and nearly fried, and drowned, specifically for the purpose of resurrecting the man who had killed his parents and tried to kill him. And that sucked. But it was still somehow better to think that there'd been a reason for him having to endure all that shit, rather than just the irrational whim of a wizard.

Maximilian's brows raised for a moment before a gentle almost pitying look look graced his features. “You believed that you were put through all that insanity for no reason at all, didn't you?” he asked softly.

Harry closed his eyes, grimaced, and nodded.

“Mmm. Well, I suspect it might be a slight consolation to know that there was some purpose to all that. Not much, I'm sure, but it's something.”

Harry just shrugged a bit.

“Now... let's see, the last part went, 'With the end of summer will come great change for The-Boy-Who-Lived and a new path will be forged. Ally will be revealed as foe, and greatest foe will become ally.'” Maximilian recited, trailing off in the end and observing Harry cautiously.

“Ally will be revealed as foe... Sounds like Dumbledore,” Harry grumbled, scowling down at the table but then he frowned in confusion instead. “But... greatest foe becomes ally?” he asked, then looking back up at Maximilian questioningly.

“What do you think it means?” Maximilian asked, rather than offer up anything.

“I... well, I mean...” Harry hesitated and looking down at the table where he gripped his hands tightly into fists. “My greatest foe... that would be Voldemort, wouldn't it?”

“That seems... likely. Yes,” Maximilian said cautiously with a nod.

“So... according to this prophecy, Voldemort is supposed to become my ally? I mean... surely not, right? That's just...” Harry trailed off, feeling confused. His insides wanted to just deny the possibility all together. Part of him didn't want Voldemort to be his ally, even if it meant that Harry might not have to worry about being killed by the man. The man had killed his parents. He's started a war – killed people, and ordered people to kill people. He's propagated the whole blood supremacy thing... sure there seemed to have been more to it than that, but even if there were other things going on, it didn't change the fact that the whole anti-muggle thing had been there too. “What if.. what if it means someone else? Maybe er... Malfoy?” he offered up weakly.

Maximilian chuckled. “I rather doubt that the youthful rivalry that you and Mr. Malfoy have harbored over the years quite qualifies the other teen as your greatest foe.”

Harry grimaced and sighed, nodding and opting not to respond further. “Yeah, fine. What was next?”

“Ah – the last line went 'Friendships will be tested, made, and lost. Light will shine upon the darkness revealing the truth. The Greater Good will fall, but wizarding Britain will prosper for it.' That was it.”

Harry frowned again and his brow furrowed with worry. “Not sure I like the 'friendships will be tested, made and lost' bit.”

Maximilian hummed sympathetically.

“But what's the line about 'The Greater Good will fall' mean?”

“Dumbledore,” the Unspeakable stated, seemingly out of no where, causing Harry to jump slightly, as he'd practically forgotten the man was even there.

“I'm sorry – you said Dumbledore?” Maximilian asked, curiously.

“It is a line I have seen associated with Albus Dumbledore in a few prior instances. The line 'Greater Good' is the specific reason why Dumbledore's name ended up on the tag, even if it is still unconfirmed.”

“Fascinating...” Maximilian mused.

“Are you done?” the man asked, sounding impatient.

Maximilian turned questioning eyes on Harry and Harry sighed and nodded.

“Yeah. I don't see any point I staying any longer. We can always talk about this stuff back at Hogwarts,” Harry said.

“Good. Return the orb to the box, please,” the Unspeakable instructed and Harry stood back up, reached into the bowl and moved the orb from it and back into the box. The Unspeakable stood, levitated the box in front of him and told them that someone would be along shortly to escort them back to a Floo. He then left.

Harry heaved out a sigh and settled back into his seat, sure that he'd probably be sitting there for an age again, only to be proved wrong a moment later when another Unspeakable entered the room and instructed them to follow. They were led back out into the circular room with the spinning doors, then out to the Ministry Hallway and back to the same office they had arrived in at the start of their morning here. After tossing the floo powder into the hearth, Maximilian wrapped his arms around Harry and held him tightly. Harry felt like melting into the embrace but he was nervous and slightly embarrassed to be held so tightly while in front of another wizard that Harry didn't know.

The worry was pushed out of his mind quickly as Maximilian called out the destination and they were whisked away in the magical fire.

A moment later Harry opened his eyes to see Maximilian's familiar office swirl into view and he was guided out of the hearth and towards the sofa the two often shared. Harry moved towards it on auto-pilot, letting the elder wizard guide him without complaint. He didn't complain when Maximilian sat beside him, wrapped his arm around Harry's back and pulled him tightly into his side.

Harry heaved a contented sigh as the contact helped decrease the strength of the overwhelmed state he found himself in after everything that he'd taken in today. They remained silent for several long moments after that, just deflating, but Harry knew that he could only avoid facing this for so long. He needed to understand it, and right now, his mind was too muddled and overwhelmed to do that.

“Okay,” Harry heaved finally opening his eyes and looking warily up at Maximilian, “when we were talking about the first prophecy, you said you understood how my destroying that diary could count towards the whole 'destroying the Dark Lord with my hands' deal. I guess I'd like to understand that first. We can tackle the other stuff after that.”

Maximilian nodded thoughtfully. “A reasonable request,” he said and then paused as if he were trying to figure how how to start. “Before I tell you this... you must promise to never repeat it to anyone. This knowledge will need to be protected in your mind, especially strongly. It is very sensitive information. Do you understand?”

Harry sat up from where he'd been leaning against Maximilian's side and gave the other man a serious look. “Alright. I promise. I won't ever repeat it to anyone.”

Maximilian nodded slowly before pulling out his wand and casting what Harry was able to vaguely recognize as a number of powerful secrecy and privacy charms. The fact that he felt he needed extra security, even in his office which was already heavily warded, told Harry just how serious this apparently was.

“As I understand you already know, the Dark Lord Voldemort's true name is Tom Riddle. He was born at the very end of 1926, and his mother died almost immediately after childbirth. The father was long gone by that point and so young infant Tom Riddle was left in the care of muggles at an orphanage. How good is your muggle history?”

“Er... um, okay? I guess? Well, probably kind of rubbish, honestly,” Harry admitted with a grimace.

“Yes, well the Great War took place between 1918 and 1921. Many European countries accumulated a considerable debt for their involvement in the First World War, and Britain was one of them. This debt destabilized many European economies as they tried to rebuild during the 1920s, and then everything crashed in 1929. With this in mind, I'm sure you can imagine that a home for penniless orphaned children, operating in London during this time, would not be the most pleasant place to be.

“Not only was food incredibly hard to come by, but no one got anything new. There were no toys, no decent clothing. Everyone was miserable and misery breeds anger and violence. And of course, by 1939, World War II began and brought with it food rations, more starvations, constant fear of death and the unknown, and airstrikes and bombs. It was obviously a very bad time to grow up in,” Maximilian said with solemn seriousness and Harry nodded his head slowly, trying to imagine just what the world would have been like during that time.

“1938 is the year he began Hogwarts, so each summer after that, he was having to return to muggle London with the threat of bombs and no magical wards to protect him. The other children were likely even more bitter in regards to him upon his return. Not only did he get the extremely rare and inexplicable ability to go to a boarding school for the majority of the year, but once he returned, his added presence reduced their already meager rations even more. They were likely jealous and angry and confused. He was different then they were – always had been, only now he was also treated special for some reason, and that only increased their distrust and hatred of him. There are several recorded incidences with the Ministry's Department for the Restriction of Underage Magic where Tom Riddle used some form of magic against his fellow orphans and the Ministry was alerted. When wizards from the Ministry came to investigate and start sorting out obligations and decide on punishments for Tom Riddle's actions, they found him bloodied and near death while the other boys had been merely stunned from bursts of controlled wandless magic. He spent the entire month of August between his third and fourth years in St. Mungo's.”

Harry's jaw dropped. “That's... awful,” Harry whispered.

“Each year, starting with his first, he supposedly asked the then Deputy Headmaster, Dumbledore, to plead his case to Headmaster Dippet, asking for some way to stay behind in the school during the summer months, but the request was always denied, and after fourth year, he stopped bothering to even ask.”

Harry felt a terrible sort of empathy for the young Tom Riddle in that moment. He too, had begged Dumbledore to let him remain at Hogwarts – where he was happy and fed and warm. He too, had been denied. But as much as Harry had hated the idea of returning to his relatives, and as awful as they treated him, they at least had never beaten him to the point of near-death. Harry's life wasn't seriously in jeopardy on Privet Drive. His spirit, self-worth, and happiness – yes, but not his life. The worst he got was from his cousin Dudley and his gang. Vernon would bop him on the head when he was seriously angry, but mostly he just manhandled him by dragging him around too roughly and throwing him against a wall or into his room.

“They like to say that the only thing Voldemort ever feared was Dumbledore,” Maximilian began again after a brief pause, “but I would argue that is not true at all.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, looking back over at the elder wizard curiously.

“Mm. What Voldemort feared was death. But not just death – death and obscurity. He saw himself as having the potential to be the greatest wizard who ever lived. He was far more powerful and intelligent than all of his peers, and even some of his professors, and he knew it. But every year that he had to return to the looming threat of death at the hands of the other orphans, or thieves, or bombs raining fire from the sky – he was overcome with the terrible fear that he would die in utter obscurity, without ever fulfilling his great potential. So he became obsessed with finding a magical solution to his mortality.”

Harry frowned. “What's that mean?”

“He tried to find a way to make himself immortal. There are several options, however many of them require things that he could not come by. They required an obscure or lost artifact, or you had to give up something else he simply didn't have to give away. The method he finally settled on appeared to be the best he was going to find and be able to perform. He made the mistake of performing the magic without fully understanding the price that he had to pay. He favored the method he found because he believed that he was losing nothing in the deal – but he was wrong.

“The method he chose appeared to have only one real deficiency – specifically, the fact that it did not actually protect his living body much at all. It secured his soul – the magic prevented his soul from releasing from his body upon death and moving on to the next plane. The magic also provided the power to regenerate his body after death. It would then return to life and his soul would still be in it and he could then return to life. This, of course, only worked so far. The body still needed to be mostly whole – lost limbs would be a problem, and having his entire body annihilated would basically doom him to existence as a bodiless wraith – as you now know he suffered from when he tried to kill you.”

A stunned breath exhaled from Harry's parted lips. “That's how he didn't die,” Harry whispered.

“Yes. The method he used to achieve his 'immortality' was the creation of 'horcruxes'. Now Harry, you must never utter that word before any other witch or wizard. Just knowing about the magic will draw scrutiny and suspicion upon you.”

“Of course,” Harry said with a fervent nod of his head. “I won't tell this to anyone.”

“A horcrux is an object where you store a piece of your soul. It acts as an anchor. The soul piece, while broken off and separated from the main soul, is still tethered to the main soul. A soul is normally always tethered to the living body and it is the body that keeps the soul here, in this world of the living. But when the body dies, that tether is severed and the soul passes on. A horcrux acts as an anchor, holding it here instead, and giving the body time to be regenerated by the magic of the immortality ritual. Are you following along?”

Harry nodded. He was leaning forward towards Maximilian in his seat, fascinated and horrified at the same time.

“Young Tom Riddle created his first horcrux when he was only fifteen years old. The same age that you are right now. He first discovered the concept of horcruxes in books that only vaguely described what they were and warned desperately against their creation. Again and again the books merely said it should not be done. Finally he found one that actually detailed the rituals that needed to be performed and how to create the actual horcrux. It did not, however, detail any of the risks, or specifically the price that came with their creation. He performed this ritual out of desperate fear of death, youthful arrogance, and ignorance. This one decision – this one mistake – would doom him, and the wizarding world for years to come.” Maximilian paused ominously.

“What was the price?” Harry whispered.

“His humanity, and eventually, his sanity. You see, while he knew that he was breaking of a 'piece' of his soul into the horcrux vessel, he assumed incorrectly, that he was only breaking off a small sliver of his soul. The reality was that the creation of a horcrux broke his soul in half. So when he created a horcrux at age fifteen, half of his human soul – half of his humanity – was frozen and stored inside an object, leaving himself with only half a soul. That alone would lead to the eventual deterioration of his mind and his ability to understand and empathize with other people, but it would have been a very slow process. He could have survived mostly undamaged for many many decades to come, if he had stopped there. But he didn't.

“He was overcome with his success and eventually decided that one safety net was not enough for him. More than that, he wanted to accomplish something that no one else had ever accomplished before. No one else had ever made more than one horcrux, and he was convinced that the only reason it had never been done was because others before him were too weak and too cowardly to dare it.

“Of course the reality is that they understood what they were doing better and knew it would be insanity to attempt. But he was young, foolish, and arrogant. In the end, he decided that he was going to split his soul into seven pieces – six horcruxes and then his main central soul in his body. He assumed that it would be six small slivers and then his large main soul, of course that wasn't how it actually worked.

“The first horcrux left him with half a human soul in his body. With the creation of the second, a quarter of a human soul was placed inside the second horcrux while a quarter remained in his body. Twenty-five percent of a human soul. Third horcrux split it in half again, leaving twelve and a quarter percent of a soul. Fourth horcrux left just over six percent. Fifth horcrux left just over three percent. By the time he had created the fifth, his body and mind had already deteriorated terribly. He had kept his intelligence and his ambition, but his ability to comprehend humanity was long gone. He couldn't understand basic human emotions – he saw them as weaknesses.

“While he was already mostly made, he was still powerful and intelligent and he did finally begin to suspect that something might be going wrong with him. He put the creation of any additional horcruxes on hold and did not make the final sixth horcrux. All throughout the fifties and sixties he ambitiously sought to achieve his goals and did in fact make great strides on the political front. But politics is a very frustrating battle to wage and his sanity continued to gradually slip all during that time. Finally, something snapped, and his ability to differentiate between when it was and was not appropriate to kill someone just because they disagreed with you, disappeared.

“After that, he stopped 'wasting time' with doing things the proper way – the subtle or cunning way – and started just killing people left and right. That was when the war truly began. Now, let us go back to the fifteen year old boy who created his first horcrux. You can literally make any object into a horcrux. It just has to be a physical object. Technically, it can even be something that lives, can rot, or die. Obviously, that's a bad idea, since when the vessel is destroyed, it stops acting as an anchor.

“The object that 15-year-old Tom Riddle decided to 'pour his soul into' was an object he had been 'pouring his soul into' for years – his diary. The object that you destroyed, down in the Chamber of Secrets, back in your second year, was the vessel containing half of Voldemort's soul.”

Harry felt his heart racing in his chest and felt his lips part in shock yet again. He had destroyed half of Voldemort's soul?

“Now there is some confusion as to what happens to the soul piece when the horcrux vessel is destroyed. Some believe that the soul pieces are destroyed as well, but I believe that they are, in fact, released. The tether that connects the horcrux piece and the main soul, pulls the broken off piece back and it gets reintegrated with the main soul. So when you destroyed the diary, you returned half a human soul to Voldemort's disembodied spirit to be reintegrated with the whole. A creature that had existed on little more than speck of a human soul, for decades, suddenly had a huge chunk of his humanity returned to him.

“In that moment, Harry, I believe that you truly did destroy the Dark Lord – the inhuman monster that waged a war and killed so many people. You destroyed him and left behind the wizard he had once been. The creature that was The Dark Lord was not human. He existed on such a tiny shred of a human soul that there was truly nothing substantially human left in him. But you returned to him the mostly untainted soul of his fifteen-year-old self who had only ever really known fear, and that had to have affected him. I suspect it changed him a great deal. You changed him, a great deal.”

Maximilian sighed and let himself sink back into the sofa where he sat and silently waited for Harry to process it all.

Harry, himself, had no idea what to feel.

“This... this is just your theory, though – right? I mean, you can't uhm... you can't really know that destroying that diary would make him more human, can you?”

Maximilian sighed and looked away for a moment. “I suppose,” he finally said with a slightly conceding shrug. “I'm very sure of my theory though. But it's possible I am wrong.”

“How do you know all that stuff, anyway?”

“Many years of research and happening to know the right people.”

Harry hummed, nodding his head slowly and sighed as he too, let himself fall back into the couch cushions.

“But do you accept, at least, the fact that the prophecy that pegged you as responsible for defeating the Dark Lord, is fulfilled?” Maximilian asked then.

Harry pondered that for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I only just found out that's what it actually said, today, and then minutes later I find out it apparently doesn't even matter anymore, but that there's apparently a second prophecy about me that I didn't even know about,” Harry groused before sighing and shaking his head tiredly. “So what about that second prophecy? I mean... it sounded like a lot of it had already started to happen – it talked about the tournament and me ending up at Voldemort's resurrection, and about me learning that Dumbledore is a shithead...”

Something of a surprised and amused snort emerged from Maximilian at that and Harry looked up over at the man to see him trying to smooth out his features.

“You find that funny?” Harry said, grinning slightly despite his otherwise dimmed mood.

“I suppose I found your phrasing to be... amusing. Yes,” Maximilian admitted, grinning slightly and then looking apologetic. “I'm sorry, Harry. This is no time to be joking.”

“Nah, I probably need some levity with all this... I still don't know how to feel about the idea of Voldemort being prophesied to become my ally. I can't honestly say I would want to be on the same side as him,” Harry ended with a bit of a growl.

“Even if he's nothing like the man he once was?” Maximilian asked gently. “From what I understand, he basically let you go after the ritual to restore his body.”

Harry frowned. “I escaped.”

“Did he do anything to stop you?”

“I... well... I guess not – no” Harry admitted hesitantly.

“He's been back since the end of last May and yet there has been no word of any death eater activity. No attacks or violence... it is rather curious. Of course, one could theorize that he's laying low and rebuilding his base or something, but as far as I've heard there has been none of that. Granted I'm not keeping up on such things at the moment,” Maximilian continued on thoughtfully.

Harry looked at him somewhat incredulously. “You really think that he might be... changed? That he would be different now?”

“I think it is a possibility. I honestly can't say for sure, Harry.”

Harry heaved a frustrated sigh and let himself lean into Maximilian's side. The elder wizard lifted up his arm and wrapped it over Harry's shoulders, pulling him in closer and leaning his head down over Harry's black mop.

“You shouldn't let worries about this consume you now, Harry. There did not appear to be any specific responsibility that this prophecy has tasked you with any time soon. If something happens, it will happen in it's own time. Until then, you should just continue to live your life as you would without having ever heard that there was a prophecy. Move forward with your emancipation. Concentrate on your studies. We'll continue with the exercises to help you better connect to your magic and improve your performance. Exercise in the mornings, go to the debate club meetings, eat meals, hang out with your friends. Live goes on, Harry.”

Harry felt the stress melting away, both from Maximilian's greatly needed words, and from the close contact with the man.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered after a few long moments of silence.

“For what?”

“For being here. For going with me. For saying that – putting things into perspective. I really needed to hear that.”

“Just glad I could help,” Maximilian responded, smiling fondly down at Harry. “I'll always be here for you, Harry. I want you to know that you can always come to me. You've come to mean a great deal to me. You know that, don't you?”

Harry opened his eyes wide and turned his head, looking up at the elder wizard with awe and confusion mingling together in his eyes.

“You mean that?” Harry whispered, as if he were afraid speaking any louder would break some spell.

“I do... I don't think I've ever felt so strongly for anyone. I feel... protective and... possibly a bit possessive,” he grinned sheepishly and chuckled. “Perhaps a lot possessive. The idea of anyone else ever harming you... it stokes a fire deep inside me that I've managed to otherwise keep tamed, of late. You are my precious one, Harry. I would very much like it if you allowed me to continue looking after you for many years to come. And perhaps, as you grow and learn and mature, we'll find ourselves on a more even playing field. Equals. Perhaps someday... partners?”

Harry's eyes were wide, his brows nearly lost in his fringe and his lips were parted in awe, disbelief, and Merlin forbid, hope. He felt as if his heart had exploded in his chest and he felt the slight sting of threatening tears in his eyes and had to blink quite quickly all of a sudden to push them away. His throat was thick and all he could think about was that this couldn't be real.

The idea that this man, especially, could honestly want him in such a way. Not just some sort of short-term infatuation, but the idea that Maximilian had hopes for a long-term relationship was just... astounding to Harry.

He wanted it. Quite badly. Was it even possible, though?

He hoped so.

“Can I kiss you, Harry?” Maximilian whispered.

Harry nodded his head childishly. “Yes, please,” he whispered back.

Maximilian grinned widely and leaned down, pressing his lips against Harry's, gently at first, and then with greater force. The arm that was still wrapped around Harry's shoulders pulled him in more tightly and his hand shifted to Harry's head where it buried itself in Harry's hair. Harry moaned and wrapped his outside arm over, grasping hold of the front of Maximilian's robes and holding tight.

Lips parted and Maximilian's tongue invaded Harry's mouth, mapping it out and dancing with Harry's tongue, illiciting another needy moan from Harry. This was incredible. He felt light-headed and mildly giddy, but he was still very much still in control of his own faculties. It wasn't the foggy almost drugged-like experience he'd had the previous times they'd snogged. This time Harry was in control of his own actions, and he knew he wanted this.

No insecurities or self-doubt came intruding upon his actions this time – of course, the fact that Maximilian had started it, helped a lot – and soon Harry found himself being drawn up and over until he was perched across Maximilian's lap, straddling his legs. Maximilian's hand found it's way onto Harry's arse and pulled him down until their pelvises were flush against each other and Harry wasted no time in starting a grinding rhythm.

Harry whimpered and keened into Maximilian's eager mouth and his hands began to explore the elder wizard's clothed chest, wishing desperately that it didn't have so damn many buttons, or that he knew that wandless trick Max used to unbutton them all in an instant. After Harry had let out a frustrated growl, Maximilian chuckled and reached a hand in to run his fingers down the front, unbuttoning them all in one swift gesture.

“Yes,” Harry hissed out gladly as he reached down and pushed the robe-tunic open to reveal Maximilian's smooth chest. Following some sort of mad instinct, Harry latched onto the elder man's collar bone and kissed and sucked his way into the hallow of the man's neck and then along the glorious pale column of skin up towards the man's ear. Maximilian laid his head back and let him work for several long minutes, breathing heavily and making wonderful tiny sounds of pleasure every time Harry hit something especially sensitive. It drove Harry wild and all he could think was that he wanted more.

Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted and the world shifting around as Max stood up, turned, and deposited him onto the sofa where Maximilian himself had been sitting only a moment before. Harry blinked up at him in disorientation and disappointment until he saw the hungry look in the man's eyes. Maximilian fell to his knees and ran his hands across Harry's thighs; up and down several times, tantalizingly close to Harry's groin but not quite touching it, before his hands spread Harry's legs apart and then reached up to the waist of Harry's trousers.

He paused there and looked up, making eye contact with Harry and silently asking permission to proceed.

Harry's heart was beating a furious tattoo in his chest and he almost frantically nodded his head in unspoken permission. He felt impatient, desperate, and terrified of what was to come next. Maximilian wasted no time in undoing the button fly and then reaching out to run his hands along the side of Harry's hips, down his thighs, up his thighs, and then looping his fingers over the top of the trousers and giving a gentle tug. Harry lifted his hips off the sofa and a moment later found his trousers and pants being pulled down past his knees, to fall to his ankles.

Harry's breath was practically coming out in pants now, and his erection sprung out, free and tall and purple from need and impatience. Harry felt himself flush and was suddenly overcome with self-consciousness as Maximilian remained kneeling before him, staring hungrily at Harry's cock.

“Beautiful,” he whispered reverently and before Harry had the time to process that, Maximilian dived in and ran his tongue along Harry's cock from base to tip.

Harry gasped in shock at the hot, wet muscle that had just licked him in one of his most intimate places. But it appeared that this was only the beginning because a moment later Maximilian took Harry's cock entirely into his mouth and far deeper than Harry would have thought possible.

“Oh fuck!” Harry groaned as his head fell back against the couch back and Harry had to fight to get his eyes to open up again so he could look back down at the wonderful thing Maximilian was doing in his lap at that moment.

The elder wizard began to bob his head up and down, hallowing out his cheeks and swirling his tongue in the most sinful patterns. Harry's mind was blown and all he could truly process was hot, wet, and so good.

Maximilian's hands were running up and down Harry's thighs still and it took Harry a few moments to register that they were traveling more and more each moment. One went around the outside and began to massage Harry's arse with his thumb moving in circles while the fingers moved ever tantalizingly closer to the cleft of Harry's cheeks. The other hand took the inner route and began to fondle Harry's balls while the middle finger extended and began to press rhythmically against the spot just behind Harry's balls.

Harry gasped out incoherent curses and prayers. Pleading for more and panting out Max's name. Harry's whole world was made up of pleasure and Max, and oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god, so good. So close!

Harry began to rock his hips unconsciously against the teasingly amazing pressure beneath his balls and the strangely different, but good sensation of something stroking along his arse. He could feel the pressure building and his thrashing became more erratic as the intensity neared his peak. He was so close. It was so good.

Nothing before was ever this good. Not flying. Not wanking. Nothing. Not even when he and Maximilian had dry humped on the man's couch down in Hogsmeade had it been like this.

“Oh shit – oh shit – oh – oh – I'm, fuck, Max, I'm... I'm – “ Harry screamed and threw his head back as his whole body convulsed and twitched with the force of his orgasm. He felt his cock pulse and gasped at the shockingly arousing sight of Maximilian still with his lips wrapped around Harry's cock, still sucking on him and then pulling back when it was clear Harry was done and gently licking him clean.

Harry continued to shake and spasm for several long, sensitive seconds after that. His mind was blown, and he was in total and utter nirvana.

“Oh my god,” Harry muttered, totally spent, as he let his head fall back against the couch for the last time, and allowed his eyes to finally fall closed. “I can't believe... that was... oh god.”

A smug-sounding chuckle emerged from the god-like man below him and Harry felt the air shift as Maximilian stood, seemed to move around a bit and finally sit back down beside Harry. Aside from being aware, on some level, that this had taken place, Harry was still mostly mind-blown at the moment, and so it came as a bit of a shock when his mind finally registered a sort of repetitive shimmy from beside him.

Harry finally willed his eyes to open and turned his head, only to gasp and find his brain shutting down again. Maximilian's trousers were opened and pushed down to his knees; his cock was out – and it was glorious – and the elder wizard was stroking himself rather intently. His head was lulled back slightly and his eyes were heavy-lidded, but they were also trained on Harry at the same time.

It registered suddenly, that while Harry had gotten off, Maximilian had not. Some part of Harry's brain realized that he should probably offer to return the favor, although he had no idea what he was doing and was afraid he'd make a total fool of himself if he tried. But a far more powerful part of his brain was presently consumed by the spectacular vision he was gifted to watching at that moment. He'd never really watched another man wank, and seeing Max lost in that rapture, touching himself, and looking so intently at Harry while he did it – it was unquestionably the most erotic thing Harry had ever seen... well, outside of seeing Max's lips wrapped around Harry's own cock. That was probably the most erotic thing Harry had ever seen.

“Kiss me,” Max panted a moment later and Harry was pulled rather forcefully from his own stunned arousal by the command. Harry nearly gasped as his arousal spiked and he wasted little time in leaning in and letting Max reach his free hand over to bury it into Harry's hair, pulling him in roughly and holding him close.

They kissed deeply and Harry moaned as he became aware that Max's stroking rhythm had only become more desperate as they pressed on.

Max pulled Harry's head away and Harry gasped for air but never moved more than a breaths width from Max's swollen lips.

“Say your mine,” Max almost growled and Harry moaned at the rush of delight and arousal that shot through him at the tone and what had been said.

“I'm yours,” he gasped, not even pausing for a moment to question the statement.

“Mine,” Max growled through clenched teeth and Harry watched, enraptured, as Maximilian's body shook and jerked. The man's hand tightened in Harry's hair and the painful tug illicited a gasp of surprise – mostly at the spike of arousal that came with it – from Harry's mouth. Harry's eyes fell trained on Max's face as it twisted up with pleasure, and he gasped and groaned while thick ribbons of cum shot out of his straining cock and cross his chest and onto Harry's arm.

Slowly the elder wizard came down from his own orgasmic high and loosened his grip on Harry while smiling lazily up at him. Harry beamed down feeling elated and sated at the same time. Harry fell back into his own seat on the couch, smiling stupidly and feeling giddy.

“That was... brilliant,” Harry said in an awed tone.

Maximilian chuckled. “Yes. Definitely brilliant.”

– – –
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Professor Monroe