Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Way of the Patronus	By : QueenB Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 15104 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
The Defense Against the Dark Arts class was not going well. Even though Harry had been tacitly forbidden to practice against any of the other students, they were all aware of his presence, like a dementor waiting to attack. It caused their concentration to slip at crucial moments--not a good thing when you were practicing defense spells.
Severus must have sensed it as well though he maintained his indifference and rarely looked Harry’s way. Of course, that was a giveaway, too. He had never ignored Harry so consistently before and the other students knew it. But Severus kept them too busy to speculate about Harry Potter while class was in session. Even Draco had let up on his tauntings, forced to exert himself whenever Severus barked a command.
Then again, Draco often seemed distracted by something these days. With little to do in the DADA class and trying not to give anything away by staring at his on-again, off-again lover, Harry found his eyes straying towards the Malfoy berk. He would have looked more often if he wasn’t worried what Ron would think about it.
Draco was looking positively ashen. He was much thinner than he should be and there were dark circles under his eyes. It reminded Harry of someone…
It had to do with Voldemort, he was sure of it. He kept telling Hermione and Ron that Draco had the Dark Mark on his left arm but, without actually seeing it, why should they believe him?
Suddenly he straightened, his first year flashing before his eyes. Draco looked exactly like Professor Quirrell had when Voldemort was nesting in the Professor’s head! Of course, Voldemort had gained a solid form and a body of his own over two years ago. So that couldn’t be it.
It couldn’t be the Dark Mark itself since Severus had sported one and it never made him look so pale and washed-out. Wait, this was Severus Snape he was thinking about. The man always looked pale.
Maybe Draco was under some kind of spell cast by Voldemort from a distance, a kind of mental control like that he’d tried to push on Harry during his fifth year. It would explain the worn-out-like-an-old-dishrag appearance Malfoy was sporting and his lack of energy to take potshots at Harry or his friends.
He’d been neglecting this obvious problem to brood over his non-relationship with Severus. It was time to stop all that and remember the big picture.
If only the hum in his body would stop! Every time Severus came near, his body would vibrate; it was as though the older Slytherin were playing a harp on his nerves. It was annoying as all get out; it was terrible.
It was splendid because it kept remind him of just what he’d lost. When Severus swooped up and down the classroom, his sinewy body supple and sure in its movements, Harry’s eye would run over him, imagining the thin, corded form he’d been privileged to touch. He could see it now, Severus’s head thrown back, the ebony eyes rolled into his head until only the whites showed, the whole body clenched around Harry’s in glorious passion…
Brilliant. Now he was getting a stiffy and he shifted, trying to will it down.
He was lost in the sensation when he heard Severus chiding Neville. “What is the matter with you, Longbottom? You were actually doing well in this class and now you fail to disarm a simple Tongue Locking Jinx?”
Neville was making garbled sounds and gesturing uselessly at his mouth. Severus sneered. “In case you have forgotten, we are practicing wordless spells. That means defense as well as offense. You must be able to disarm the spells your enemy casts at you, especially the ones that render you temporarily without speech. If you cannot do that, you should, nay, you must be able to cast wordless counterspells to disarm him. Once that is done, you may regain your voice at your leisure.”
Ron waved his arm. “Yes, Mr. Weasley? You have something to contribute?”
“Why don’t you let Harry practice? I’m sure he could show us something about wordless magic.”
There were scattered murmurs of assent from other Gryffindors. During his stint as leader of Dumbledore’s Army, Harry had proven gifted in learning and teaching defensive spells. Plus, he made the Slytherins nervous. That alone was enough to make them eager to see what Harry could do.
Severus’s lips curled in a thin smile and that quelled them at once. “An excellent suggestion for once, Mr. Weasley. Quite unusual for you, I might add. Mr. Potter, perhaps you wouldn’t mind squaring off against Mr. Weasley. And you will not go easy on each other. Any attempts to perform ‘soft’ spells and I will most certainly deduct house points.” When Harry scowled, the DADA professor added, “Do be careful not to blast any holes in the floor, Mr. Potter. That kind of collateral damage is something I won’t tolerate in my class.”
Harry took up his place and tried to keep his face blank. The main advantage in dueling against friends was that he was well aware of what Ron’s abilities. However, Ron knew his defenses as well. Putting up the kind of vicious fight Severus demanded might be a problem.
Ron whipped out his wand. “Stupe--”
Harry immediately countered by wordlessly yanking Ron’s legs out from under him. The redhead fell hard on his back. His wand should have gone flying but he managed to retain his grip on it.
“Ten points away from Gryffindor for using a spoken spell, Mr. Weasley.” The watching Gryffindors groaned and Severus shot them a warning glare.
Ron jumped back to his feet and waved his wand again. Even without hearing a word, Harry recognized the Leg-Locking Jinx since Neville had suffered from it in first year. He banished it and silently cast Aguamenti, causing a wave of water to splash in Ron’s face.
Only it wasn’t just a splash. In seconds, the water grew into a tidal wall that swept across the room. The students began to scream and scramble away from the seemingly unstoppable wave coming in their direction.
Ron paled but managed to keep his head. Casting Protego, he gestured and sent the wave spinning away in another direction. Unfortunately, that direction was where the professor was standing.
With little warning, Severus brought up his wand. “Incendio!” he cried.
A sheet of fire met the wall of water. The room was filled with a violent hissing as steam erupted from the contact of the opposing forces. But Severus’s hasty effort was no match for Harry’s. He was overwhelmed as the cascading water doused his flames. The water swept over his black-clad form and sent him crashing to the floor.
Harry waved his wand and the water disappeared. On the steaming floor, Severus was an unmoving sodden mass. Neville coughed in the silence.
“Um, Hospital wing again, Harry?”
Harry sighed. “Sure. Want to come with?”
“I guess class is over,” Seamus said brightly.
__________
“Really, Severus, now you are just being stubborn,” Dumbledore chided.
This last attack wasn’t as bad as the one that had given him a concussion so he hadn’t been in the hospital wing as long. But Severus had been beyond furious at waking up with Madam Pomfrey leaning over him again.
This time she had let him in for a considerable amount of vitriol that even he hadn’t been able to stop. She thought it very odd that a teacher, not a student, should be in the hospital wing twice in one month and threatened to report the matter to the Headmaster.
She had made good on her threat and so here Severus was, facing the Headmaster again. Fawkes was crooning and, out of the corner of his eye, the DADA professor noticed Harry whispering to the bird and scratching behind its head. The silly fowl was ecstatic at the attention, closing its eyes and stretching its neck so Harry had better access.
He scowled. The brat was deliberately ignoring him. Not that he cared. But parts of his anatomy were twitching, wishing that Harry would stroke him in that fashion. He told those parts of his anatomy to shut up.
“My boy, this is getting out of hand,” Dumbledore continued. “Harry needs guidance that only you can give. Without it, he is a danger to himself and the other students.”
“So far, Headmaster, the brat is proving a considerable danger only to me,” Severus snarled.
The wrinkled face creased in a bland smile. “Don’t forget young Zabini. But Harry does need training. You can’t keep him from active participation in your classes as you have been doing.”
“Oh, but I can. That’s why I’ve decided to expel Mr. Potter from the DADA classes.”
“What? That’s not fair!” Harry stopped scratching the bird and spun around. The phoenix let out an indignant squawk at the sudden cessation of pleasure and turned its back, ruffling its red-and-gold feathers in a huff.
Dumbledore frowned. “Severus, Harry is correct in this. What is happening is not his fault and it is quite unfair to penalize him for something he can’t restrain.”
Severus sneered. “If I may be allowed to finish without interruption, the foolish child might learn the reasoning behind my pronouncement. Mr. Potter’s public expulsion will have the benefit of making it known to everyone that he is no longer being trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts. This news is certain to get back to the Dark Lord and he will be delighted. He will assume wrongfully that Harry remains a mediocre, clumsy parody of a wizard without the necessary skills to defeat him.”
The Headmaster nodded in approval, his concern eased. “Ah, very good. I should have known you’d have a valid if devious reason behind your actions, Severus.”
“However, you are quite right, Headmaster. I’ve given the matter some thought and decided that Mr. Potter does require private lessons.”
“Oh!” Harry sat down. “I’m all for that.”
“We shall find a suitable clear room in the dungeons, something close to my quarters.”
Harry’s face twitched. He looked excited and then furtive as though he wanted to contribute to the suggestion and then decided against it. But the enthusiasm emanating from him was unmistakable and those insistent parts of his anatomy took note, urging him to pull the brat on to his lap and kiss him senseless. Severus envisioned nasty thoughts, such as seeing Voldemort naked--with Wormtail. His libido winced in disgust and took itself into a corner to sulk.
That intense blue-eyed gaze fastened on Harry for a second. There was a flicker of surprise as Harry met his stare. The bafflement passed and approval shone from the twinkling eyes. “Very well, Severus. You and Harry may arrange for lessons once a week--”
“Four times,” Harry interjected.
“Three,” Severus countered, glaring at Harry.
“It seems negotiation is in order. I’ll leave it to the two of you to sort this out.”
Severus found himself once again striding down the winding Tower stairs with Potter trailing his heels. This time the brat was sufficiently cautious not to begin babbling in front of the inquisitive portraits. It wasn’t until they were in the third floor corridor, once the home of that overgrown furball Fluffy, that the Gryffindor ventured to speak.
“Severus, I’ve got an idea.”
“Mr. Potter, for the sake of decorum you would do well to address me by my title whenever we are not in any private quarters behind strong warding spells,” Severus hissed.
“Fine. But I think there’s a better place than one of the classrooms. It’s someplace I discovered last year when I was practicing defense spells with the other students.”
“If you’re speaking about the Room of Requirement, I’m well aware of that, thanks to your blundering into Malfoy’s Trip Jinx. Not much of a class if you were caught by such a simple ruse.”
Harry scowled. “Well, if you know all about it, why didn’t you suggest it to Dumbledore…”
“Headmaster Dumbledore, you disobedient pest.”
Harry ignored him again. “…instead of that idiotic idea of finding an empty classroom? The Room of Requirement can become anything you need, unlike some dusty place with limited space that any Slytherin could stumble across.”
Severus slowed as he considered. That was indeed a splendid idea and he could have kicked himself for not thinking about it sooner. “Very well.”
“And it should be four times a week.”
“Three. Your schedule is hectic as it is. I also don’t want to start tongues wagging among the students of my house. If the Slytherins got hold of this, they would most certainly use it against us.”
“I’m already in danger from Vol-au-vent and so are you since you got that,” he pointed at Severus’s left arm “removed.”
“What a lovely euphemism,” Severus added dryly. “You make it sound like I got it in drunken revelry and had it ‘removed’ once sobriety returned.”
Harry snorted before his mouth widened in a grin. “Yeah, I reckon. Something like Voldie’s Hell Angels.”
Severus shot him a narrow look. Was the boy making fun of his youthful blunder? But the sparkling light in those green eyes was irresistible, silently inviting him to see the humor in it. His lips thinned in mock reproof.
“Nothing so crude, I assure you. It would have been The Dark Lord’s Nightcrawlers.”
“Nightcrawlers are bugs, Sev--Professor. How ‘bout Old Red Eyes was Here?”
“Purebloods Unite.”
“Snake Lovers Anonymous.”
“The Flying Death Eaters.”
“Mom.”
“What?” Severus stared, baffled by that choice.
“When I was in the Chamber of Secrets, Vol-au-vent ranted on about how his dad was a Muggle while his mom was a pureblood witch. I figure if anyone would have a mother fixation, it would be Old Baldie.”
Old Baldie? Yes, quite good. Not brilliant but enough for Severus to let out a dark chuckle and then a full-throated laugh.
Harry stopped, his mouth dropping open. Then he said softly, “God, I’ve wondered what that would sound like.”
Severus gazed at him, his momentary lapse in dignity gone. “What do you mean?”
“Your laugh.” Harry moved closer. “It’s like…”
Severus stepped back. “Mr. Potter, not here.” He heard no sound; the other students must be engrossed in their classes still. But he hadn’t survived as long as he had by being reckless.
Harry didn’t listen. Perhaps he was past it. He grabbed the front of Severus’s robe and pulled the man down for a passionate kiss.
This was madness. There was a chance, albeit a slim one, that anyone could stumble across them…Peeves, Mrs. Norris, Filch on his rounds.
His body, crying out gleefully at the contact, couldn’t care less. Severus seized Harry’s waist and dragged the nubile body against his. Pushing the boy against the wall, he thrust a leg between the strong thighs.
The kiss became desperate, harsh gasps punctuating it, as they pulled back for sips of air. Harry’s thighs had clamped around his and the boy was hunching on his leg, mewling into his mouth, as he sought relief.
“God, yes. Needed this, need you, Severus.”
“Shut up, you insolent…” Another kiss interrupted him and Severus held Harry tighter. Harry’s leg was pressed fiercely between the join of his, the pressure just where he craved it. It wasn’t quite enough, he needed more than this limited contact, but Severus would take this for now.
Their heights were not compatible while standing. Severus’s insistent cock was thrusting against Harry’s stomach but the friction was there and they hunched against each other, finding their rhythm, until Harry shuddered with a soft gasp into Severus’s chest.
“Yessss,” Severus whispered and gripped the boy’s buttocks as he followed him to completion. That aching that had plagued Severus’s body for too many days fell away at once, only to be followed by instant self-disgust. He pushed away from Harry in shock.
What had he been thinking? Frotting in the corridors like a randy schoolboy--this was the rashest behavior! Severus had always prided himself on being cool and rational under fire. But lately his thinking became all scrambled around Harry. He glared at the brat as though the blame for this rested on his scrawny shoulders.
“Clean yourself up, Potter.” The harshness of his own voice coupled with the desolation in those eyes hit him with a whip-like sting. The euphoria so recently gifted vanished and the pang returned full force. Severus muttered the Cleaning Spell and stepped back, though something inside him was crying out to relieve Harry’s obvious distress at this new rejection.
It was insane for him to be so needy like this. His thrust shaking hands under his armpits and swung away. He would handle this. That potion for the dampening of sexual fervour would be taken hourly if need be.
“Severus?”
He ground his teeth. What had he done to deserve being burdened like this? Harry wasn’t truly interested in him; this was the result of a miscast spell. He would make the brat understand that if it was the last thing he did.
There was a hand placed on his back and he stepped away. With every ounce of will, Severus drew his self-control around himself like a concealing cloak. He coolly met green eyes filled with frustration and barely banked desire.
“Mr. Potter, we will meet three times a week, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, for our private lessons at nine o’clock after your classes and meals. I trust this will be satisfactory. Your weekends, of course, will be your own. But I strongly suggest you practice in your spare time whenever you are able.” He allowed himself a faint sneer. “Perhaps you can have your little sycophant Miss Granger to aid you in your study.”
“Se…”
“Call me that again, Mr. Potter, and I will deduct 50 house points from Gryffindor. Good night.” Without another word he spun away. He didn’t have to look back to know that Harry was still slumped dejectedly against the wall.
__________
Severus paced in front of the Room of Requirement. Three times in front of portrait of goblins in tutus beating up a wizard, that’s what Potter had told him in a dead voice that seemed completely unlike his own. The green eyes had been dulled and his whole posture screamed at a false submission that Severus didn’t like one bit.
He had worked the better part of the night to create a libido-dampening potion and believed he had hit upon a concoction that would work. He had been gratified to find that he could stand close to Potter and feel no twinge of desire at all. However, this new subdued attitude was playing havoc with his nerves.
He needed to steady himself if he was going to be working in close proximity with the wretch. Limits would have to be set and…
Suddenly a brass handle appeared in the wall. This must be it. Taking a breath, he opened the door.
Harry was already waiting. He was clad in a simple T-shirt and denims that clung to his legs without being overly provocative. Severus noted this in passing before concentrating on their surroundings.
The room was large and uncluttered, lighted scones high on the walls. The walls were covered with thick mattress-like pads and cushions lay scattered on the floor. Excellent. They would provide more than adequate protection in case one of them--himself, most likely--went flying into the walls.
Harry’s wand was held tightly in one hand. He shuffled a little from foot to foot but didn’t speak. Was he waiting for Severus to make an announcement? If so, it was a good opportunity to make matters clear right from the start.
He crossed his arms and put on his most forbidding look. “First things first, Mr. Potter. We are meeting for the purposes of training only. There is to be neither familiarity nor intimacy between us. You will address me by my title or Sir. Is that understood?”
Harry nodded tightly. “Yes…sir.”
More submission. It was aggravating. Well, he knew one way to shock Potter out of it. “What’s the matter, Potter? Upset because your little band of fans isn’t around to cheer you on?”
Harry blinked, his mouth falling open. “What?”
“You’re a conceited little egotist, just like your father.”
The brows creased. “Hang on, what are you--?”
“He’d stand around, twisting his hair to look like he’d just come off a Quidditch pitch, preening so that all the girls and boys would fawn on him, miserable, arrogant show-off that he was. Your mother was imbecilic to fall for him.”
The boy went white. “My mother wasn’t stupid! Professor Slughorn…”
“Oh, please, Potter,” he retorted, his mouth twisting. “I went to school with them. I knew exactly what they were like. Your father was no saint. Before she lost her head over him, your mother called him a pathetic toerag.”
Now he flushed. It was true; he’d seen it in Severus’s stored memory. “That’s not…he must have changed otherwise she wouldn’t…”
“You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you? That your father became a shining beacon of virtue worthy of affection and a girl’s love. He was nothing more than a bullying, game-playing fool and his sycophantic club of Marauders was no better. What could you expect of Black, a turncoat Slytherin, that cowardly Lupin and that miserable rat Pettigrew who only got into Gryffindor because he wanted to hide behind the coattails of a greater wizard than himself? Not that your father deserved that title.”
“Why are you acting like this? What has this got to do with anything?” Harry yelled.
“Everything!” Severus sneered. “Something doesn’t go Harry Potter’s way and he sulks. He pouts. You’re no better than your father: a nasty, jumped-up, lying, sneaking, conceited, stupid, pitiful excuse for a wizard. No wonder the Dark Lord was able to kill him and your mother!”
The cloud dropped away from Harry. Lightning crackled in his eyes.
Severus tried to speak again but his throat seemed gripped in a vise. His body began to swell. His fingers ballooned up first, causing his wand to drop, swiftly followed by the rapid expansion of his other limbs. He could feel blood getting trapped in his head and pounding behind his eyeballs, causing his eyes to bulge and swelling his tongue.
His clothing was a trap encasing his body like a sausage. In moments, he was unable to breathe or even move and he struggled for the spell to counteract it.
The swelling diminished, leaving him shaken and gasping for air. He’d never been subjected to a spell like that before and precious seconds were lost as Potter launched his next attack.
A vicious itching, like the Stinging Hex but a thousand times worse, erupted all over his body. Severus was seized with the mad desire to yank off all his clothes and scratch himself until his skin bled. He fought against it but it took longer than he expected for the counterspell to activate.
Then the spells flew thick and fast. He lost track of time as Potter hit him with jinxes and curses he only vaguely recognized. Finally, he saw an opening and lashed out a curse that caused temporary blurred vision. Potter panicked at not being able to see straight and Severus took the opportunity to trip up the adolescent and pin him facedown to the floor, one arm twisted behind his back.
“Remember, Potter. Not all attacks will be magical in nature. Be prepared for anything and everything,” he murmured silkily as he canceled the spell.
Harry struggled briefly and then lay still, panting hard. Severus was abruptly aware of the warm body pressed beneath him, caught between his legs. There was no desire, no blood flowing south, but he could appreciate the gorgeous nubile form, see the mental image of sexuality suggested by their position and he rose hastily. Stepping away, he watched as Harry leapt to his feet.
“Good one, Professor,” Harry murmured stiffly. A muscle twitched in his jaw and a strange anxiety seemed to crease his face before it smoothed away into that suffocating dullness.
What was wrong now? Surely the boy wasn’t going to sulk because he’d lost this round. Severus wouldn’t stand for pouting. “What’s the matter now?” he snapped. “Don’t mope over your mistakes, Potter. Learn from them.”
“I wasn’t mop…” Potter’s shoulders hunched and he shivered. “Never mind.”
“No, I want to hear this. What is upsetting Daddy’s little boy now?” Severus asked, crossing his arms.
Harry shot him a look of sheer loathing. “I don’t like being pinned down like that.” In spite of his expression, his tone was eerily flat.
Pinned down? Blast. He’d forgotten about the incident with the boy’s uncle. They had never spoken of it since then and he’d thought the matter resolved. Evidently not.
He didn’t know what to do or say. Hadn’t he just demanded that nothing of the personal be spoken of? And it was clear Harry didn’t want to go into it. Other than this oblique statement, the adolescent made no mention of it. It seemed that Severus was helpless to do anything but follow his lead.
“How did you make me swell up like that?” he asked by way of changing the subject. “I’ve never witnessed such a spell.”
Potter shrugged. “I accidentally cast it on my Aunt Marge when I was 13. She was…” He stopped and scowled.
“Was what?”
“Saying nasty things about my parents. Accusing them of being drunk when they were killed in a car crash.”
“Why would she think that?” Severus asked, dumbfounded by this news. “Didn’t she know the truth?”
“Aunt Petunia hated the fact that her sister was a witch. When Mum died, she lied about it and told everybody they’d died in a car crash…and Aunt Marge believed they were both drunk at the time. I sorta blew her up because she said that. The Ministry had to send in people to alter her memories so she wouldn’t remember.”
“Truly? I’m surprised the Ministry didn’t have you expelled for such a stunt.”
“Well, they thought that Sirius was after me so they were concerned with keeping me safe. Kicking me out from Hogwarts would have defeated the purpose, wouldn’t it?”
“Ah, of course. All rules should be suspended to accommodate the Boy Who Lived. How could I have forgotten?” Severus murmured. His sneer was half-hearted, at best. He’d known Petunia had despised her sister. He hadn’t thought she’d smear her memory after death. It made him feel decidedly queasy about how he’d spoken about Lily just now.
Harry’s shoulders hunched in and he rocked back and forth on his heels. “I don’t want to talk about this,” he muttered.
Severus was tempted to make some gesture of conciliation. But what, short of an apology, could he say? It was best all around if he simply stuck to his decision to abstain from the personal. “And the Blood-Boiling Hex?”
“What Blood-Boiling Hex?”
“The one you cast on me just now.”
“No, that was a regular Stinging Hex,” Potter answered, obviously puzzled by the reference.
“Mr. Potter, I assure you that I know the Stinging Hex and how it feels. This was something quite different. The Blood-Boiling Hex is on the level of the Dark Arts. Where did you learn it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor. It was just a Stinging Hex.” The adolescent walked over to the far side of the room. Only it was no longer a wall. A bookshelf had appeared that wasn’t there before, filled with large and dusty tomes. Severus thought he even recognized some of the covers.
When Harry pulled down a book and began flipping through the pages, Severus gave way to his curiosity. “Mr. Potter, where did that bookshelf come from?”
Potter grinned. “I thought you knew about what this Room does?”
“I was aware of its existence from what Draco told me. But it has never been a particular source of interest for me,” Severus replied indifferently. “The dungeons have always been adequate for my needs. I’ve no need to indulge in fantasy scenarios.”
“Too bad. You don’t know what you’re missing. The Room really does give you everything you need. When I was training Dumbledore’s Army…”
“Dumbledore’s…Army?” Severus echoed, his eyes widening.
“Um, yeah. That’s what we called ourselves. It was really stupid, though. We should have chosen something harmless. That way, when we’d been caught, we could have just passed it off as an after-class activity like knitting or bowling or something.”
At Severus’s quizzical look, Harry tried to explain. “Oh yeah, you probably don’t know what bowling is, right? Uncle Vernon used to sneer at it as being a stupid American pathetic attempt at a sport. ‘Just running two feet and swinging your arm out of joint! What kind of idiot calls that a sport?’” he said, deepening his voice to an approximate imitation of his uncle.
“Who can understand the workings of the Muggle mind?” Severus asked absently. He strode over to Harry and looked down at the worn pages.
It was definitely filled with Dark magical spells. He saw Harry flip through some of the worst ones, noting that the boy shuddered when he chanced upon particularly graphic and detailed illustrations. One showed a man being eviscerated in a crude manner with meat hooks. Another depicted its victim being simultaneously transformed into a dog-lizard hybrid while being turned inside out. Harry turned the page fast enough so that the page suffered a tear in the upper corner.
“Careful, brat,” he chided.
“I am…usually. But it’s the Room of Requirement. It can get anything you want or need. So if I rip a page or two, it doesn’t matter in the long run.”
“On the contrary,” Severus frowned. “Respect for books should always be shown, no matter where you are. Otherwise, you’ll be tempted to destroy material that can’t be replaced. Perhaps this is one reason you do so poorly on your studies.”
Potter slammed the book shut and jammed it back on the shelves. “Or maybe it’s because you’re a crap poor teacher,” he snarled.
“If you have issues with my teachings, that is your failing, Mr. Potter, not mine. Your friend Miss Granger seems to suffer no such difficulty.”
“According to you, she does well not because of your teaching skills but because she’s an insufferable know-it-all. Your words,” Potter added smugly.
Severus’s eyes narrowed. He had indeed said that and realized how it reflected badly on his abilities. Before he could argue the point, Potter was going on.
“You spend more time in your classes insulting people, giving detentions, ignoring the one student in the class who actually knows the answers than actually teaching. In fact, you hate kids! Except for your Slytherins, of course. Finally, I figured it out.”
“And what conclusion have you come to in that pitiful excuse you call a mind, Potter?”
The green eyes became stormy but the voice remained level enough. “Dumbledore gave you this job so you could spy on Voldemort. You’re not really qualified to be a teacher; you just got this post because it was the perfect cover. You’re living proof that just because you’re good at a subject doesn’t qualify you to teach it.”
Severus wanted to throttle him. He leaned his face close to the other’s. “Do not question my teaching skill, Mr. Potter. I’ve forgotten more than you will ever learn in your lifetime,” he gritted out in his nastiest tone.
“Still not making you a good teacher,” the emerald-eyed youth said, infuriatingly calm now that Severus was this close to losing his temper.
“Then these lessons are clearly a waste of time, aren’t they?” Severus said, pulling back with a smirk. “Perhaps we should discontinue them right now.”
“Hey, these private lessons were your idea!” Harry pushed away from the bookshelf. “I wouldn’t pick you as my first choice.”
“Or second,” Severus shot back.
Harry halted, obviously remembering that particular conversation. He forged on nonetheless. “But you’re the only choice, so there it is. Besides…” he trailed away, a burst of heat turning his face red.
“Well, Mr. Potter? Speak clearly and finish your sentences. Make some attempt at coherency or conversing with you will be even more annoying than usual.”
Potter squeezed his fists. “I think I need…to be around you.”
A thin eyebrow lifted. “Really, Mr. Potter, how sentimental.”
“It’s got nothing to do with sentiment and you know it. When we…I mean, when we get…physical in touching, this humming beneath my skin eases up. Otherwise, I have trouble concentrating or sleeping,” Harry finished. His face was becoming a color to rival Mr. Weasley’s hair.
Severus studied the defiant yet hopeful face. He had wondered how Harry was dealing with their mutual problem. Well, now he had his answer. “Mr. Potter, you can simply take the matter in hand, so to speak,” he answered with a convincing show of indifference.
“Don’t you think I’ve tried that?” Harry gritted. “It doesn’t help, not for long. I need…contact,” he finished with a mumble, staring down at the floor.
Contact was exactly what he wanted to avoid. It was tempting to leave Potter to suffer, especially after those comments about his teaching capabilities. But a wound-up Potter was a dangerous entity indeed; best Severus do something to ease his symptoms.
Also this would be a perfect opportunity to establish dominance, to make up for all the recent moments when he had found himself at Harry’s mercy. Letting a cruel smile grace his face, he said softly, “Very well, Mr. Potter. Open your trousers.”
The hopeful look on Harry’s face vanished, to be replaced by confusion. “W-what?”
“Are you deaf? You heard me. If you want me to aid your distress, then do as I say. Open your trousers.”
The plump lower lip trembled. Then, with a clenched jaw, shaking fingers began to undo the trousers. It was tempting to tell Potter to strip completely, to break the boy’s pride and humiliate him. But something in Severus could not be that cruel. For now, this would suffice to teach the impudent brat his proper place and test the efficacy of the libido-dampening potion.
The wrinkled jeans were opened and Severus feasted his eyes on what lay under it. A pair of plain cotton smalls, pure white, graced the firm hips. The cock strained against the cloth, perfectly outlined and already creating a damp spot on the material. One hand hovered near it, either to touch himself or hide.
“Keep your hands away, Mr. Potter,” he murmured and allowed his lips to curl at the renewed flush. He stepped closer and placed his palm against the cloth over the straining bulge. It was the perfect handful, not too large or small. The boy squirmed and he knew Potter wanted him to place his hand directly on the flesh. But this teasing contact, with him fully clothed and the boy half-naked, was the better for maintaining control of the rebellious youth.
He shifted, towering over the shorter form, and stared unblinkingly into the open gaze. The head fell back until it met the wooden bookshelf. As he began to stroke, the soft lips parted and hot breath fluttered out to caress his face.
The rhythm was slow, steady. He wanted to tease the Gryffindor, keep him hovering on the edge, so the boy would know exactly who was in charge here. He wanted Harry to acknowledge that he was the master.
But embarrassment had vanished. The flush on the beautiful face was one of rising arousal, not shame, and Harry writhed into Severus’s fingers as he alternately stroked, squeezed and fingered the throbbing length.
“Ooh, Sev…Severus.”
“Professor,” he corrected sternly.
Harry canted his hips, driving the hot flesh into Severus’s hand. Severus drew away his palm and grinned maliciously when the brat mewled in frustration.
“It’s Professor, Mr. Potter. Say it.”
The green eyes flared in reproach. But when the dark-clad figure pulled back farther, Harry muttered, “Professor.”
Severus smirked. “Better.” He resumed the pressure and felt Harry shudder with relief.
The pace sped up slightly and Harry started bucking into his grip. The hands came up to grab Severus’s upper arms to drag him closer and he allowed it. That messy hair was plastering to the skin as sweat popped out on Harry’s forehead. He was alternately hissing and panting as Severus continued his ministrations.
Merlin, this forbidden adolescent was the most delectable thing he’d seen since the young Lucius Malfoy. The unconscious beauty of the nubile body, the uninhibited cries and movements and the undoubted enthusiasm with which Harry touched him gripped at Severus with an intensity that startled him.
Abruptly, he found himself pressing the brat into the bookshelf, his own body glued to Harry’s side, as his fingers slipped inside the elastic waistband and touched the swollen flesh at last. The molten length of it fitted his palm perfectly like it had been molded for his hand. His thumb rubbed at the delicate ridge just under the head and Harry bit his lower lip on a moan.
Severus had to admit there were advantages to remaining unaffected by lust. With his thoughts clear, he was an unblinking witness to every shifting nuance of Harry’s expression. Every flutter of the eyelash, every flush, every sob, every moist swallow was a delight to be treasured. Harry began babbling mindlessly, his eyes deepening to a smoky green, as he slid his hands to Severus’s shoulders.
He couldn’t resist those luscious lips any longer. Cupping the rounded skull, Severus brought his mouth down to Harry’s in a forceful kiss. They sucked and pulled at each other, Harry’s cock pulsing madly in Severus’s hand as though connected to his mouth.
Here was undeniable proof that arousal started first in the mind. His own prick lay flaccid; inwardly Severus regretted that this should be so one-sided. But it had been his decision and now he would have to see it through--and deal with it later.
The boy responded by crying incoherently into his mouth with every firm squeeze. Such exquisite reactions and all from a kiss and these bare touches. Severus might have put it down to the uninhibited passion of youth. Yet Lucius had been Harry’s age when they became partners and had never shown such abandon.
A final cry from Harry rattled his tonsils just before moisture soaked Severus’s hand. As the warm seed dripped down his fingers, a shiver ran through Severus’s entire frame. It was nothing like an orgasm, not as he normally knew it. But a devastating languor cloaked him so that he sagged forward, pinning Harry between himself and the bookshelf. He registered the whispered “Tergeo” but didn’t know whether it came from him or the heated body trapped against his.
Gradually awareness returned to him. He was cradling Harry’s body as a warm hand stroked unhurriedly up and down his spine. This gesture from Harry, so soon after what they had been doing, should have shocked him. But Severus was so wrung out by what had just occurred between them, he could barely think straight, much less protest such a loving action.
Loving. His eyes narrowed as intelligence struggled to make itself known. This had nothing to do with love. They were the victims of enchantment, nothing more. But the internal assertion that it was all a spell was so feeble now as to hold no weight.
He had wanted to put Harry in his place. He had taken a potion to suppress lust. But at the critical moment he had been overwhelmed with the desire to kiss Harry, to meld his body against the lovely still touching him and now he wanted to bask in this wonderful post-coital closeness as Lucius had never let him do.
His body tensed, preparing to pull away, when Harry breathed into his ear. “Don’t move yet. Stay.”
Warring impulses battled within Severus. It was a clear command, one that he couldn’t disobey. It should be despicable, that he should be at the mercy of the son of his hated enemy, another Gryffindor. But it was enthralling, too, and his nerves were crooning inside as the phoenix had been and for the same reason--the bliss of Harry’s touch.
He knew this was wrong in so many ways, had taken steps to make sure this wouldn’t happen. He had even set down the rules for Harry himself. And what had he done? Let himself be seduced by a boy a fraction of his age.
Harry pulled back, staring into his face with a tiny frown. “Severus? What is it? What’s wrong? Do you need…?” One hand dropped from Severus’s waist to his cup his trousers. Severus stiffened and grabbed Harry’s wrist but not before the teenager had realized his body’s definite lack of interest. “You’re…you’re not…”
“Unlike you, Mr. Potter, I’m not a prey to every wandering chemical surge in my body,” he responded coldly.
“But you were turned on! I could feel it!” Harry protested.
He smirked at that. “You are truly arrogant if you mistake your erections for mine.”
Harry shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Ever since we first had sex, I’ve been feeling things along with my magic. I couldn’t understand it until we were in the hallway the other day. There was excitement, then frustration, disgust and shock…and I realized those weren’t coming from me. Those were your emotions, weren’t they?”
It sounded exactly like what he’d been experiencing. Had that been happening to him in turn? Had he been actually sensing Harry’s emotions? Surely such a thing was impossible. Only Legilimency could allow them such access to each other and he’d been ruthless in shutting off his thoughts from Har--Potter.
“Mr. Potter, you must have been imagining things,” he tempered, keeping his expression rigid.
“I don’t think so,” Harry replied, green eyes boring into his in a way that was far too reminiscent of Dumbledore to be comfortable.
Without warning, he was thrust back into his lab, watching himself chopping, mixing and blending various herbs. Severus could hear his own voice muttering to himself as he concocted the anti-lust potion.
It took a Herculean effort to block Harry from the memory but it was too late. Back in spirit and flesh in the Room of Requirement, he was met with the sight of a trembling, white-faced Gryffindor.
“So that’s it. You hate being attracted to me. So you found a way to fix it. Merlin, Severus. Whatever happened to pleasure given and shared? Why do you think it’s better to shut off a part of yourself instead of letting yourself feel?”
The real truth wasn’t anything he could reveal. It was too shaming, too revealing, and would give Harry too much power over him. “How many times must I say it?” he snarled. “I will not be the continued victim of an idle spell or surging hormones. Even if the public will forgive its so-called Golden Boy for illicit transgressions with a teacher, I cannot count on a similar indulgence. I will most assuredly lose my position here at Hogwarts and the safety of its walls. If I am cast adrift in the world, how long do you think it will be before I am found like Igor Karkaroff was and put to death for my betrayal of the Dark Lord?”
The green eyes didn’t blink. Really, it was unnerving, like the boy was trying to put him under the Imperius Curse. “I don’t believe you.”
“What you believe is immaterial, Potter,” was the acrid reply.
“Tell me the truth!”
Command rang out behind that simple utterance and Severus found words tumbling from him without his volition.
“You are prohibited to me for all the reasons society would name and those it would not. You could have anyone you wished, simply with a smile, and yet I am to believe that you choose me, a bitter, dried up, vengeful, hate-filled, hideous gargoyle of a man old enough to be your father who was only desired in his youth for his brewing abilities.
“In spite of your wish, trust hasn’t come easily to me for years now. I doubt your intentions, your sincerity. I have been nothing but cruel and spiteful to you since your first day in my class. Why wouldn’t you seek revenge for it?
“I am aware this all sprang from a spell. The very nature of such enchantments makes them uncertain in their intensity and their time limit. We are…attracted to each other. But how long will that last? Another day? A week? A month? And how will we deal with each other when it fades? Horror is certain to follow in its wake, especially on your part, and the damage to your psyche will be irreparable, perhaps crushingly so. I am aware that you have suffered such trauma before and I am not such a monster that I would willingly add to it.
“Finally, you are sweet temptation, Harry. But I cannot let myself fall for you. I barely recovered from that as a young man. If I were crushed again in such hopes, it would destroy me.”
He finished on a whisper, his throat raw as though he had screamed every word. Harry gulped, his glance wavering at last.
“Uh. Blimey, that was--more than I was expecting. I just thought you didn’t want to be attracted to me because I was ugly and disgusting.”
The Slytherin was floored. Why would Harry believe that about himself? “You are not ugly, Harry. Why would you think so?”
“You said you thought other people more good looking,” Harry muttered. He seemed to remember that he was half-naked and jerked up his trousers and began fastening them with tense, angry gestures. “Let’s face it. I’m no Lucius Malfoy, am I?” he added bitterly.
“No, and thank Merlin for that,” Severus said fervently. “Lucius’s beauty was undeniable but deliberate, every gesture and movement calculated for maximum impact. He was an undeniable lovely even during the early flush of puberty and he knew it. He used it to devastating effect both as a lure and a weapon. But his self-absorption had begun to cloy even before he cast me off.”
Harry glanced at him uncertainly; doubt was evident in the miserable green eyes. “Really?”
“Yes. I used to see him spend untold hours in front of a mirror, preening and brushing that infernally long hair of his.”
The lips trembled into a grin. “I wondered about that hair. It must take him ages to wash it. And it’s so shiny! He must use a special conditioner on it.”
“He does. I invented it for him,” Severus said drolly.
“Figures,” Harry snorted. He wasn’t exactly jumping with glee but at least the unhappy mood was broken. Severus was not overjoyed that he’d been forced into revealing his feelings for Harry. But the brat evidently wasn’t going to hold them against him.
If only he could somehow learn how Harry felt! Severus was tired of unrequited affections--first from Lily and then Lucius. It was insupportable that he should endure it for this scrawny adolescent.
But if Harry was experiencing nothing more than simple enchantment, then perhaps he was better off not knowing. However, that wasn’t his way. Severus had insisted on learning the truth behind things even as a boy, discovering that it was better to know the worst at once than to hide behind pretty, self-serving lies.
All that could wait for another time. “Now that this little interlude is over, I suggest we resume our lesson. Ready, Potter?”
Harry gaped at him. “You want to practice now? But…”
“You think the Dark Lord will care about your orgasms, boy? Prepare yourself!” A powerful jinx flew from his wand towards the slouching brat.
Harry sprang with all the speed honed by his years as a Seeker. He didn’t cancel the spell, simply ducked out of its way, but it gave him time to come up with a counterspell.
After that, the time passed far more profitably, at least to Severus’s mind.

TBC
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The Way of the Patronus