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Snape's Curse	By : JanisJ Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 24342 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter fandom, JKR's characters or the books and movies of the series. This is purely fiction and I make NO money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 6
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A/N: Thanks for all the rates and reviews and for checking in with this story!

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Occlumency’s Curse (part 5)

“Sock puppets, Albus? Severus demanded once he had the Headmaster’s undivided attention; the Slytherin was warily glancing around the eclectic office as if he expected them to burst out of a cupboard and attack at any moment. “Sock puppets?!”



Dumbledore grinned, “You saw that, did you?”

“Yes! And it was very disturbing!” Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why, pray tell, do you have naked, anatomically correct puppets? And why would you ever be demonstrating sex to a young Potter?” he practically whined in his incredulity.

“The ministry issued pamphlets are near useless,” Albus answered easily, glossing over his colleague’s unease with grace, “and the puppets tend to calm children when they’re panicked. During my time as Headmaster I have occasionally had to teach students the basics of reproduction if they haven’t had any instruction at home, girls mostly-- You can imagine how terrifying the onset of menses could be without expecting it.”

“Indeed,” Severus rolled his eyes, finding that female subject utterly distasteful and then turned thoughtful. “Yes, it makes sense now, Petunia or her vile husband would never have had ‘the talk’ with the boy. And I don’t suppose muggle primary school covers it before the age of eleven, at least not without guardian consent—and they would never do him that kindness…,” he mused. “But what, may I ask, was the catalyst for this bizarre lesson?”

Albus just smiled that creepy, foreboding ‘I know a juicy tidbit’ smile he got sometimes when they were discussing Harry. “You didn’t see that far? He didn’t tell you?”

“No…,” Severus answered hesitantly, moving from uncomfortable to unnerved. “He very successfully blocked all sound and eventually ended the scene when you transfigured the female to another male,” he relayed with a small amount of smug pride and then added with suspicion, “You were being awfully thorough there, old man. Why did this take place in the infirmary and how did it come about?”

Albus wondered if he should keep confidentiality, but then figured ‘what the hell?’; it would help his sons finally connect. The wise wizard glowed in good humor with his decision—he would enjoy this! “Well, it seems the dear lad thought he had been poisoned and/or cursed. He was afraid he was slowly being killed and dying.”

“What?” Snape choked back a strangled snigger. “He thought the ‘symptoms’ associated with puberty were some sort of assassination plot? Oh, that is too funny!” He permitted himself a couple of stifled guffaws. “I’m sorry,” he held a hand up as he swallowed hard. “I should not laugh.”

“Perhaps maybe a little, son; it does me good to see you cheerful,” Albus replied, “and it is pretty amusing-- given he wasn’t actually in danger that time. I’m sure he’ll laugh about it someday as well. It’s a rather cute conclusion to jump to, wouldn’t you say?”

Severus sniffed in offense. “Cute?” he spat like it was a swear word, “I will stick with ‘funny’.” But he actually thought that was a fairly intelligent assessment given the circumstances; it did seem that Nature could be a cruel bitch (and the boy did have a psychopathic murderer entwined in his past). “Now what on Earth gave him that preposterous idea?”

“He actually had a very good reason,” Albus twinkled as he let his Potion Master stew in suspense for several long seconds. At the inevitable frustrated huff, he whispered with unrestrained mischief, “He thought it was you.”

Severus gaped at him, scandalized. “Headmaster! I would never truly harm a child in our care!” (They’d had countless ‘discussions’ over the years on how his harsh teaching methods may or may not cause lasting psychological damage to the students and had more or less agreed on certain lines be drawn in the proverbial sand.) “No matter how I felt about their parents!” he tacked on unnecessarily.

“Of course not, of course not,” the older wizard waved his hand dismissively.   “He was just going through changes in his body and mind that he couldn’t explain. You have to admit, you always did seem like you had it in for the boy….”

“Because I did not treat him as the ‘sainted savior’ of the Wizarding world?” Albus simply nodded but was still wearing that smirk that told he knew more than he was telling. “So what was it that finally sent him running to the hospital? I hardly think he would seek medical care at the first, shall we say, indication.” Severus raised a deliberate eyebrow.

Albus beamed like he was bestowing a precious gift on a loved one. “He brought a water glass smeared with a sample of semen from his first nocturnal emission, his first ejaculation ever. He was convinced it was a poison working its way out of his ‘diseased’ body and that he could have it tested and get the antidote.”

There was a stretched moment of silence and then both men exploded in laughter.   “Oh good lord!” Severus wheezed in a rusty, hacking way, his diaphragm unused to this natural expression of merriment. He held his sides and pitched forward in his chair to hide his face. “Oh, no! Poor Poppy!” he managed to get out in between labored breaths, “Remind me next time she’s patching me up after a summons to go a bit easier on her….”

Eventually, Snape’s unpracticed levity died down and he collected is usual calm cool. As Albus wiped a mirthful tear from his eye, the Slytherin had to ask again, “So he suspected I was physically torturing him just because I was so hard on him in class? Because I misjudged him and treated him so poorly?”

Suddenly, that part wasn’t so humorous. Not at all. He sobered quickly. It was true he’d been an ornery bastard in the beginning, but he would hate for Potter to think he would ever want to hurt him now.

Then Albus dropped the bomb he’d been holding within for years: “He figured it was you because he was only getting aroused around you and by thoughts of you.”

Dumbledore chuckled as his discombobulated, socially-stunted colleague bolted for the door, mumbling that he ‘must leave’ and striding so quickly that if he was going any faster he’d be sprinting. The Headmaster just glittered with unholy glee and called after the stiff retreating back disappearing down the spiral stairs, “He just knew it had to be you! You were the shining star of his first wet dream, Severus! What other conclusion could he come to?!”

****

Harry arrived to the next Occlumency session in Snape’s office, concentrating on what the man had suggested about blocking. He was thinking so hard that he didn’t notice his professor swoop into the room with a determined air and cast ‘Legilimens’ without a word of warning:

They were immediately swept up in a freshly recent but fuzzy-edged recollection that was undoubtedly a fantasy since the action had never happened in reality and was superimposed over the red drapes of a four-poster bed. The two men’s minds were suddenly inundated with swirling and escalating desire, flashes of them in Snape’s office during their private lessons and the stern man’s face had softened, open with emotion. The strong, potion-stained hands were fervently running over the bare youthful body and his lips were slack in aroused appreciation. The older wizard purred ‘Potterrrrrrr….’

Harry fought against the salacious sensations and worked to envision the intrusion. He found the feeling of the focal point and rejected it past his scalp, quickly forming a shield in the bone of his skull. It worked! The probing thread-tip could not re-enter, no matter how many times he felt it try but bounce off.

“I did it! I did it, Sir!” Harry whooped in triumph, jumping around a bit, completely proud of himself-- until he saw Snape panting slightly, with a discomfited expression around his eyes. Then the memory of what they’d both just witnessed came crashing down on him.

The mortified Gryffindor cringed and his stomach heaved; he turned away, covering his eyes with a trembling hand. “Oh god, oh god…. I’m so sorry, Sir! That wasn’t…. I didn’t mean…. Oh, bloody hell…,” he stammered himself into silence.

The longer Snape stayed quiet, the worse Harry panicked. He was going to be killed—he just knew it. Little sliced up bits of The-Boy-Who-Finally-Died would soon be suspended in jars of slimy fluid, sitting alongside the other obscure specimens already adorning the office shelves. And if Snape didn’t murder him, he was afraid that the man would be so appalled and disgusted that he’d be banished from lessons and helping with the Basilisk, never to spend extra time with his favorite professor again.

“Potter,” Severus drawled slowly once he’d mastered his own mixed reaction of surprise, disbelief and yearning (he’d had his suspicions Harry still felt that way towards him, but this was beautiful confirmation he wasn’t just indulging in wishful thinking!), “That was…,” he cleared his throat and endeavored to sound unaffected, “well done. A little late, but your technique was, eventually, totally effective. We shall practice on that.”

Harry still couldn’t face the man, but mutely twitched his shoulders in agreement. He was somewhat buoyed by the fact Snape seemed to be ignoring the blatant wank material that included him as the preferred imaginary partner. He tried to be happy that Snape had praised his results but it was difficult when he was quaking over the fact the man might end up seeing more in the future.

“Construct your shield again and we will test it.” He sounded terse, but Harry figured he was just as embarrassed as he was. “Are you ready?” (What was Snape playing at? He never asks that! He probably just doesn’t want to see any more of my sick and twisted thoughts.)

Harry concentrated on the concept of an Imperturbable Charm surrounding his head and fueled it with the positive life-force of his Patronus. He guessed he was as prepared as he’d ever be and braced himself. At his nod, Snape cast ‘Legilimens’. And nothing happened. The dark-eyed man repeated his spell-- Again, nothing.

“Professor,” Harry breathed in satisfaction and wonderment, “I did it!” Snape seemed to deflate (Jeez, what does it take to please this man? Isn’t he at all happy I finally learned it? Oh. He probably doesn’t want to lead me on by saying nice words, and let’s face it— who would after what he just saw?!). Harry repeated in a more flat tone, “I did it.”



“Indeed,” was Snape’s curt reply, saddened this signaled the end of the necessity for formal Occlumency lessons; with his student’s learning to Occlude, there was a certain finality to the total of sharing Potter’s thoughts and feelings that left him bereft. “However, I must test you at random intervals to ascertain if you retain the ability. I believe we can accomplish that on our trips to the Chamber.”

Severus watched the boy nod in willing acceptance at his last statement. It still baffled him that the boy didn’t mind spending his spare time with him that he was in no way obligated to share—and continued to allow it freely, even with the threat of having his most private thoughts on possible display! But Snape was glad for it none-the-less. The need for Harry’s gift of Parseltongue to get to the Basilisk was the perfect excuse to administer pop-quizzes while getting a lot of ingredient gathering done at the same time.

“Potter, that will be all for tonight,” he stated in a very business-like tone then asked in a quieter, more timid timbre, “But I have to ask, will you open the Chamber for me, perhaps twice a week now, when we would normally meet for Occlumency? And accompany me to procure the parts?” Without waiting for an answer, he clumsily rambled, “I can understand if you do not wish to waste your Monday evenings AND Saturday afternoons, if you have better things to do with your time, study more, play sports with your friends, or--”

Harry cut him off with a dazzling smile. “Of course I want to go with you!” he exclaimed eagerly. “I have the feeling that I’ll learn a lot. It’ll be fun! So, same time as last weekend? And Mondays too, then?”

Snape marveled at his enthusiasm and barely made out a quavering “Yes,” and then Harry was at the door. “Potter!” he called out, unable to stop himself, “You really did do well tonight. Now that you have a taste of what it feels like, keep it up. Do not forget to clear your mind before sleep—protection from the Dark Lord in your dreams is most important!”

Neither one saw the other blush at that blurted statement and headed off to their respective beds full of thoughts about what had been revealed from Harry’s randy imagination that night.

****

Harry was right. He was learning a lot on their trips to pick apart the serpent’s corpse—

He learned that Snape reacted strangely to him speaking Parseltongue, getting uncharacteristically flustered and twitchy but with a fire in his fathomless black eyes that Harry thought looked very sexy. He memorized how to do a Cushioning Charm at the end of the chute so being chucked out onto the floor didn’t hurt so much-- and he discovered that if he went first, he could recreate their maiden voyage and get Snape to land on him, pretending it was an still an innocent mistake that he didn’t get out of the way in time (and if he was extra lucky, he might feel a hardness under the man’s voluminous robes!).

He secretly thrilled at having his professor ogle his ass as he shimmied over the Lockhart rubble (he could tell Snape was watching, the heated gaze caused his butt-cheeks to prickle with awareness-- plus he’d caught him at it a few times). He also discovered that if he could just engage the man enough to talk to him, he could listen to that mellifluous voice wash over him in waves, stimulating his spirit like an aphrodisiac or soothing his soul like a healing tonic.

He learned Basilisk body parts (as the beasts were banned and outlawed from ‘domesticated breeding’ over seven hundred years ago) were extremely rare and valuable. The scales were potent petrifying agents when boiled, and historically revered and prized by ancient Egyptian wizards for the mummification process. They were also priceless and indispensable in nerve-restoration potions when combined with reversal spells and steeped in simmering Coca leaves and Datura stamens. They were now going to be able to help hundreds of people at St. Mungo’s that chronically suffered from lasting deterioration due to over-exposure of the Cruciatus Curse and other evil hexes that acted on the central nervous system.

And he learned that they couldn’t use magic to gather the pieces. So, as they began the harvesting with collecting the scales, he found out the use of tweezers on each individual flake was tedious and time-consuming (but couldn’t have made Harry happier because it meant it would prolong their time together).

Severus also learned loads by these trips—

He learned he truly enjoyed Potter’s company. He found he looked forward to hearing Parseltongue spilling from those plump cherub lips and that he really liked the way Harry clung to him when they levitated back to the girl’s lavatory at the end of their sessions.

The dour man discovered that if he kept his tone neutral and patient, Harry felt free to be open with him, making both of them feel more relaxed in each other’s presence. This led them to bonding deeper, becoming closer and having some very decent conversations on a range of various topics.

He realized Harry was actually a quiet and thoughtful young man (when he wasn’t angry). He didn’t give in to inane chatter but when he spoke he had some intelligent observations to make, asked excellent questions (without getting too personal) and could be quite funny. He often caused the serious wizard to smile, occasionally eliciting some soft puffy breaths of laughter (and in return for these, he would be rewarded with the goofy grins and musical, boyish laughter he delighted in).

Severus still tested his student’s mental shields at random moments, in between plucking apart the dead monster—

When he was selfishly fortunate, Snape caught off guard glimpses of the young man’s daydreams (all centered on him, which made him horny and hopeful) and when his protégé was successful at Occluding, he felt the conflicting feelings of pride and disappointment swell in his chest. But Harry’s shy blushes at his brief slips of control or the sparkle that lit up his face at his personal victories were like rays of sunshine that warmed his cold heart.

****

“Hey, there’s a door over there I saw the first time we came down here that I want to check out,” Harry said as they were packing up their haul for the day and getting ready to return to the castle proper. “I’ll just be a second,” and he bounded over and slid behind the stone face of the Slytherin founder before his instructor could stop him.

With a distinct lack of caution, he threw it open easily and stared at a long path of stairs. Severus had a heart-stopping moment of panic (Foolish Gryffindor!), imagining all sorts of horrific wards springing into action, but absolutely nothing happened. The young man looked back, eager with anticipation. “Where d’you suppose these go?”

Snape, having recovered his blood pressure to a reasonable level when no immediate threat revealed itself, was able to answer drolly. “Up,” he deadpanned.

Harry shifted the boxes and containers he was carrying as he inclined his head in a dare, “Only one way to find out!” and with an impish glint in his green eyes, he sprinted on ahead. Taking the steps two at a time, he grinned over his shoulder at Snape still standing like a statue at the door.

Severus felt the compulsion to follow; Harry’s fearless sense of adventure was infectious. And Snape not only wanted to keep his protégé safe, but the idea of them embarking on one of The-Boy-Who-Lived’s famed, incredible escapades together was incredibly appealing.

The novelty soon wore off as they trudged up more elevation than they could count and the burdens they carried in their arms grew heavy. Finally, Harry let out a “HA!” and ran up the last few steps leading to another door. Again (with Snape cringing at his lack of discretion) the young Gryffindor flung it open with no precaution whatsoever. (Yet once more, the lad’s luck seemed to hold as no terrible thing befell them).

“Wow!” Harry shouted as he crossed the threshold, looking around in surprise, and set his load of precious potion ingredients out of sight somewhere. “Sir! Come on!” He beckoned wildly, his face lit up with joy. “I bet you’ll love this!” Severus wondered if this was some sort of siren’s song-- designed to be ruled by his deepest desires-- luring him to his ironic and tragic demise.

But no, while he proceeded with due self-preservation, his diagnostics revealed no hostile spells. Potter had moved further inside the mysterious archway and disappeared from view. It was too quiet. Severus hurried to gain entry and see that he was indeed all right.

The staggering sight he was met with was Harry casually perusing the shelves in a room that he thought he’d never, ever see:

There were bookcases filled with ancient tomes surrounding a homey living space, an emerald green velvet sofa and two armchairs by the fireplace, an alcove that housed a gigantic four-poster bed covered in intricately woven green and silver silk tapestries, a wooden table with ornate carved chairs in one corner, a matching writing desk across from it (with Harry’s load of the day’s acquisitions tossed carelessly upon it) and two doors, one open and leading to an opulent bathroom.

Severus’ mouth had dropped open in absolute awe when the realization finally dawned on him. There was no doubt that this had been Salazar Slytherin’s personal quarters! (And it was all clean and dust-free-- The house-elves must visit regularly.)

“Potter….” Severus breathed in hushed reverence, “This is…. magnificent. How is it that the most astonishing things always happen around you?” Harry just smiled and shrugged, glad to have pleased his professor. “I implore you, don’t touch anything,” he requested nicely. “We are filthy.” (It was true, the ‘Scourgify’ he spelled on their hands to collect specimens did absolutely nothing for their clothes or hair.) He set his portion of potion ingredients next to Harry’s and moved into the loo.

Harry trailed after him and took in the sight. The fixtures were very old-fashioned, but his gaze was glued to the huge claw-foot tub (on closer inspection, the feet were molded in the shape of flared cobra heads). It was big enough to fit two people comfortably and had matching indentations on opposite ends, a couple of comfortable curves in the rim for headrests. Harry’s mind started to wander to images of him and Snape relaxing in hot, spice-scented water together, soaping each other’s skin, touching all over….

“Care to take a bath?” Harry jumped at the silky smooth sound caressing his ear. When had the sexy man snuck up so close to him? And was he doing Legilimency on him?

Severus could see the shock and guilt written all over the young man’s face and thought he might know the cause; he felt the kindest thing to do was not call attention to the fact that Harry had grown a sizable bulge in his pants. “I would hate to sully Salazar’s room with our disheveled state. You may go first.” (Snape noted with some satisfaction that Harry looked both relieved and let down to be washing up alone.)

“If you pass me out your clothes, I’ll see about cleaning them,” Severus told him as the door was closing. He heard an audible gulp and smiled as a wad of soiled robes, jeans and shirt were held out from behind the door with a shaking hand. “Pants too, Potter,” Severus chided, secretly wanting to bury his face in them before he summoned a house-elf to take the outfit to the laundry.

Harry blushed to the tips of his ears, grateful for the heavy wooden barrier separating them, but dreading what he would have to tell Snape. “Potter…,” came the warning growl that meant he was dawdling and irritating his teacher. He leaned his forehead on the door and took a deep, calming breath before he answered in an embarrassed rush, “I haven’t got any.”

There was a suffocating silence. Severus fought to keep his voice sound as detached and disinterested as possible while his titillated curiosity overwhelmed his common sense and forced him to ask, “Is this a habit of yours?” He grimaced at his audacity and lechery, but he just had to know.

“Everything I have but my glasses and uniform are hand-me-downs from my cousin. You saw him-- all his underwear are too big, not to mention…. Stained.” Harry shuddered at the memory of the skid-marked atrocities his aunt tried to foist upon him. “Better to just go without,” he mumbled, ashamed of his poverty and feeling extremely exposed.

When Snape didn’t reply, Harry dejectedly pushed the latch closed and turned to open the taps in the tub. Both wizards were flushed and sweaty for two entirely different reasons; Harry couldn’t believe he’d just talked to Snape about underpants (or lack thereof) and Severus was shocked he’d gotten such an honest answer from his impromptu, imprudent question!

The sound of rushing water didn’t drown out the pulse pounding in Severus’ ears. “Oh god,” he whispered out loud and groaned as blood sped to his member, making it surge to the thought of his Potter being bare under the jeans in his hand this whole time. He pressed the inseam of the crotch to his nose and inhaled. It was a glorious mix of soap, boyish ball-sweat and precome. He had to squeeze his erection through his pants.

Harry sunk into the hot water and closed his eyes. His fingers drifted to his stiff penis and pretended that Snape was there with him. Suddenly, he remembered to cast a ‘Silencio’ towards the outer room. That protection settled, he felt a naughty swoop of arousal that he was touching himself with the object of his desire so near by and enjoyed a certain measure of abandon. He couldn’t believe how soon he felt his orgasm approaching from that thought alone and moaned.

In the living area, Severus battled with his conscience for all of two seconds and then gave into his libido; his aching need overruled his compunction as he charmed the door transparent (only from his side, of course). Part of him knew it was wrong to spy like this but another (very large, insistent and throbbing) part of him deemed it all right now that he knew his urges were reciprocated.

He stared in fascination at the young man in the bath chamber pleasuring himself, his senses entirely ensnared. He wanted to commit every last delectable detail to memory. Harry was beautiful in his nudity and perfection in his wanton repose.   Severus tore down the basic silencing charm with ease and his face broke into a feral, greedy sneer when he heard the rhythmic splashes of water and guttural, needy grunts. He wanted nothing more than to share this moment…. His hand petted his thickness through his trousers, matching the pace of the voyeuristic view he was stealing.

When the strokes sped up and he could tell the younger wizard was close, he couldn’t help himself and knocked on the solid wood that remained visibly clear (an odd sensation, that). Severus’ voice was overly sultry, “Are you finished yet?”

He smiled as the boy’s eyes flew open and bugged out; the look on Harry’s face and the furtive covering of his genitals with both hands was comical and adorable. Severus had no idea what spurred him on-- Perhaps it was just the heady feel of the whole surreal experience of the afternoon, but he continued. “I feel dirty and I want to get in there,” he teased with piquant innuendo. He leered when his Potter hoarsely squeaked out, “I’ll be done in a minute!” and gave one last tug and spurted his release into his bath water with a stifled cry (oblivious to the fact that his Silencing Charm wasn’t in effect).

Severus canceled his sneaky spells and passed Harry the change of clothes (through a modest crack in the now-opaque door) that his summoned house-elf had provided. When his student was dressed and came out, he tore past him and heavily warded himself within. He flung open his fly and with a light squeeze of his balls and four pumps to his cock, he came all over the tiles at his feet, still dressed and the tub not even halfway re-filled.

Harry wandered the room (after he’d approached within three feet of the loo and been forcibly jolted back with what felt like several volts of electricity) trying to concentrate on his surroundings and not the fact that Snape was naked in the bathroom, only feet away. The books looked interesting, as did some small objects and curios, but he resisted the temptation to touch anything. Snape would not like that, and after his experiences in the Black house, he knew better.

When the Potions Master emerged freshly washed and immaculately put together (but excitingly sans the typical outer bat-robe), a ‘pop’ sounded behind Harry. “Potter, I hope you do not mind, I took the liberty of ordering us food. I am afraid we have missed dinner in the Great Hall and I will not be accused of starving a student.”

Harry beamed and turned towards the wonderful smells of supper to find his eccentrically clad friend standing there, bouncing on the balls of his mismatched socked feet. “Dobby! Hi! Excellent, you brought all my favourites! Thanks!”

“I is happy to do anything for two of Dobby’s most respected sirs!” and disappeared with a low bow. The two wizards made their way to the scrumptious feast laid out before them on the table.

“You’re a friend of his?” Harry asked.

“I staged a leading conversation with myself in his presence at Malfoy Manor the summer before your second year and he has been helping me keep an eye on your safety ever since. I must say, you have made quite an impression on him. Now eat your food before it gets cold.” Harry just smiled at the brusque professor as they tucked in to the roast beef, French bread and steamed green beans—(Snape has been keeping me safe all along? He cares for me! He really does!)

After the last crumb of treacle tart was consumed, the atmosphere turned thick. Neither of them wanted to leave; Severus was torn over wanting to examine the room and getting his charge back to his dorm before curfew, Harry just didn’t want the magic of the evening to be over. It had been incredibly amazing to be sitting in the profoundly historic, private quarters of Salazar Slytherin as if on an intimate, romantic date with the only man he’d ever wanted.

“Well,” the older wizard reluctantly began, “I suppose we should call it a night, it is getting late.” Harry noticeably drooped but brightened a little at the prospect of discovering where the mystery door would lead them. Again, without hesitation or caution, Harry went and turned the knob.

“Sir!” he exclaimed in surprise. “I don’t believe it! We’re right across the corridor from your classroom!” Severus, astounded, rushed up to him. It was true! There they were, standing side by side in an ancient wooden door jam where normally there was simply a blank expanse of stone! As soon as they stepped through and closed the door, it faded back into solid rock behind them.

Severus gave a pained groan of desperation at the loss of such a great treasure. And then a groan of desire as Harry began speaking in Parseltongue.

“Hssshshssssyehhhth? Sssssayesefethsssss?” he hissed, patting the corridor wall, then shook his head. “Fssssyiiishishaaa? Heyessshhhfsseyethee? Yesssseeerrrr?!”

“Potter,” Snape sounded strangled. The serpentine sibilant syllables never failed to fill his groin with desire. “What are you doing?” (besides driving me mad by keeping me in an almost constant state of arousal?)

“Sheshyeeefss.” He replied in a matter of fact tone.

“English, Potter,” Snape rumbled in exasperation, repositioning his case of potion ingredients in front of his truant cock.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry said sheepishly. “I thought I’d try to guess the password. It’s gotta be something in Parseltongue, right?”

“I would imagine so,” Severus agreed, impressed with his astuteness. “As much as I admire your initiative and would like access to the chamber, it is quite late. Give me your box and get off to bed.” He gently shooed him away and retired into his classroom, still reeling from all the incredible events of the day (and the urgency of his renewed erection he thought a man his age shouldn’t be capable of getting so soon after he’d recently masturbated—how can I get so excited from just a few spoken words?!).

Harry hugged his arms around himself as if to contain his euphoria-- lest it try and dissipate-- and experimented with a few more possible passwords but the entrance didn’t reappear. He hurried back to his common room, glowing with contentment over the how the evening had turned out. Not even Ron’s protestations of him being gone so long with the ‘greasy git’ could derail his good mood.

He “cleared his mind” before bed (of course, as usual). And he didn’t have nightmares or visions through Voldemort’s snake-eyes-- He dreamt of his mentor, languidly lying in a large, fancy bathtub whispering his name.

~~~~

A/N: More to come, the last three chapters are almost done: just need a little detail to fill them in—so, updates should come faster (unless RL interferes)…. Hope you enjoyed! (And continue to! :)
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Snape's Curse