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

Chapter List
- 8
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- 10
During dinner, they dined on steamed, spicy rice and roasts of dark red meat that Snape told them was squab. Harry didn’t know what squab was but the gamy flesh was tasty with tiny baby vegetables the perfect complement. For dessert, Snape informed them they would be having mulberry pie – no doubt made with the very fruit he’d been picking earlier.
Draco held the floor, talking incessantly about his home, Malfoy Manor, and the many treasures held within its stately walls. Harry had the distinct impression all this chatter was directed towards him – the Malfoy prince, a peacock spreading its feathers.
Frankly, he was bored silly by Draco’s long-winded descriptions of Queen Anne furniture and his father’s collection of exquisite bone china plate and statuary. Interrupting one of his droning comments about early Regency artwork, Harry spoke to Snape instead. “You set a fine table, sir. Do you do all the cooking yourself? I’ve noticed you don’t have any house-elves.”
“No, that’s our role, it seems,” Draco muttered, his white teeth sinking into a chicken wing.
Snape ignored the prince’s rudeness. “I have no house-elves. I like my privacy and I prefer my own touch. There is a great sense of satisfaction in knowing you have crafted an object of beauty yourself, that you have had a hand in every stage of its formation. It makes a thing yours in a way that no mere ownership can manage. Laziness breeds nothing but a flabby body and a slack mind.”
The red tide rising on the prince’s cheeks showed the barb had hit home. “Why bother working when you can pay skilled artisans who can do a much better job?” the prince retorted. “The services of a devoted elf or gifted cook are so much better than the paltry efforts of a poor amateur, wouldn’t you agree, Harry?” he added with a poisonous smile.
Snape’s lips pinched together. Before he could reply, Harry jumped in hastily. “Actually, I’ve eaten really great meals at the Weasley’s house. Molly Weasley, Ronald’s mum, is no chef, but she’s a great cook.”
Dark eyebrows lifted, the coal eyes shining with mild surprise. “Weasley? You mean Arthur Weasley’s family?”
“You know the Weasleys?”
Snape intoned in his grave voice, “The Weasleys are considered one of the most prominent purebloods in the wizarding world. You are fortunate indeed to be acquainted with them, Mr. Potter.”
“Too bad they’ve become such poor trash. That’s what happens when you breed indiscriminately like rabbits,” Draco sniggered, taking a sip of his wine. “They’re also said to be despicable Muggle lovers. Otherwise, they’d be in the top tier of society instead of the bottom rung.”
“Don’t you talk about them that way!” Harry shouted hotly, jumping up from the table. “Ron Weasley is one of my best friends! His father’s one of the finest men I’ve ever known so you take that back right now!”
Draco gave him a bored look. “I most certainly will not. What I’ve said is nothing more than the truth and I won’t retract it simply because you find it unpleasant to hear.”
Harry’s hands balled into fists. He was on the verge of charging across the table and punching Draco in his pointy little face when Snape’s voice rose, recalling their attention to this presence.
“Since Draco disdains my food and you seem more interested in fisticuffs than eating, you are both dismissed from the table.” He waved his wand and the food was gone.
Draco’s face fell but he made no argument. “Just as well. I’ve tasted better swill at Ministry functions and they serve the same dull canapés at every affair,” he sneered, standing so that his chair scraped the floor.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to disrupt the meal,” Harry said, unhappy at the prospect of going to bed on a half-full stomach – again.
“My decision stands. Draco, the angelica potion needs to be bottled. Mr. Potter, it is time to set your second task.”
Harry’s spirits sank. This looked like another night he’d be going hungry before enduring his ordeal. He wondered what new terror he would be facing tonight.
__________
Having left the grumbling prince, Snape took Harry to another outlying building. “These are my stables,” he murmured. “You will spend the night with my steeds.”
“Oh, you have horses here?” Harry hadn’t seen any horses about the grounds. Still, he’d hardly seen everything of Snape’s property.
Another of these disagreeable sneers wreathed Snape’s countenance, though this one faded quickly. “Not quite.”
There was another blast of foul odor when the door was opened. This time Harry was expecting it and had braced himself against the fetid wind. Within were no stables. Indeed, such ordinary enclosures would not have suited these creatures.
“You have hippogriffs,” Harry said, swallowing hard.
“You have a gift for stating the obvious,” the sorcerer retorted.
Two hippogriffs with flaming orange eyes stood tethered at opposite ends of the large enclosure. The largest had a black coat on its rear end with feathers of red-gold. The other was a pale cream color, its feathers gray, speckled with brown and orange flecks. They both let out piercing cries upon seeing the two. The black raked at the ground with eagle claws while the smallest of the pair stamped its hind hooves and shook its head as though trying to throw off its halter. The chains holding them rattled angrily with each movement.
“Make yourself comfortable on the straw, Mr. Potter. I’ve no wish to have you wincing about the place tomorrow. Good evening.” The stable door slid shut with a bang that startled the two half-bird half-horse creatures and caused them to shriek all the louder.
Harry backed against the door and took deep breaths. He forced himself to calm down, knowing the beasts would scent his fear and become even more hostile.
The hippogriffs showed no sign of settling but continued to screech. Harry’s eyes flew about the enclosure. Just beyond the animals lay a pile of what looked like raw, red meat. The hippogriffs were no longer paying him any attention, only straining their necks towards the animal flesh just out of reach.
No wonder they were complaining, then. They were hungry and needed to be fed. “I can relate,” Harry muttered.
What was it Hagrid had taught him about hippogriffs? They were proud and easily riled but they could be handled if one went about it in the proper way.
He approached the largest one as close as he dared and bowed before it, holding its gaze all the while. The beast instantly calmed. It bowed back and settled into regal stillness. Repeating his actions with the smaller one, Harry was able to pick up the pieces of bloody meat and lay them before the quieted creatures. They bent their heads and ripped into the flesh with every evidence of satisfaction.
The straw wasn’t exactly snug but it was better than a stone floor. Pushing it into a thick mound, Harry sank onto it with a sigh. Since he wasn’t tired as he’d been yesterday, he allowed himself to eat a small amount of the food from his pouch. It wasn’t as ample as what he would have had from Snape’s table but it would have to hold him until morning.
This time he remembered to pocket his glasses before settling down to sleep. He tried to ignore his rumbling stomach and whirling thoughts of the day’s events. While he was less than satisfied with his meal or his dealings with the crotchety sorcerer, Harry was proud of how well he’d completed his tasks.
__________
A hand was stroking his hair. It was comforting, reminding him of his mum. But it couldn’t be her, could it? The hand ran down his cheek, lingering at his throat. When it stroked down his chest, Harry twitched. This didn’t feel like his mother at all…
The touch withdrew and Harry let out a moan of disappointment. He opened bleary eyes to see a fuzzy outline of a man standing above him, his body a mere silhouette in the light from the open door.
“Congratulations, Mr. Potter. Not many people can sleep so easily with two hippogriffs within five feet. No need to ask what house you were sorted into. Like father, like son.” He sniffed and turned towards the door.
Harry ran after Snape, trying to make sense of his pre-wakening moments. Had the man… Had Snape been touching him just now? But why would he? Perhaps Harry had dreamed it. Goodness knows the night had been filled with disturbing dreams that re-awoke the ache in his prick he’d felt when Snape had healed him yesterday.
He wanted to ask the ebony-eyed man walking by his side but couldn’t muster the courage to do so. Snape would sneer at him for sure. Are you out of your mind, Mr. Potter? Why on earth would I be touching you, of all people?
Just stupid nonsense. Harry did his best to put it from his mind. Instead, he tried to engage the man in conversation. “Why do you have hippogriffs anyway?”
“There are certain potions that require their feathers. I thought it more cost effective to keep my own, since they are rare creatures and the price of their feathers extremely exorbitant.”
“But why two of them?”
The man gave him another of those looks that showed what he thought of Harry’s intelligence. “I should have thought that was obvious. Surely you realize the smallest of the pair was a female?”
Harry thought about that. Then he flushed when he realized the obvious answer. “You’re breeding them?”
“Correct. You’re slow but not entirely stupid then,” he drawled. “Come next spring, there shall be a litter of fledglings needing care.”
“I wish I could be here to see that,” Harry said softly.
The sorcerer shot him a look and opened his mouth. Whatever he was going to say, he quickly stifled and they continued their walk to his home in silence.
Inside the house, they found Draco waiting. Snape stopped short at seeing him. “Well, Draco, this is a shock. Fancy seeing you up at this early hour. I’ve never known you stir willingly before noon unless it was a school day or you were kicked forcibly from your bed.”
The prince had dressed with particular care this morning. He was always well groomed and dressed but today he had gone all out. He wore a tight-fitting blue jacket that looked soft as fur over a fine shirt. A matching pair of blue slacks graced his legs with shining black boots that came to mid-calf.
Draco looked only at Harry. His words rushed out with the briskness of a speech thoroughly rehearsed. “I wish to apologize to you, Harry, for my poor choice of words yesterday. I shouldn’t have insulted the Weasleys in such a manner. Please tell me you forgive me and that we can still be friends.”
“Diplomacy, Draco?” Snape asked, his lips twisting. “Quite intelligent of you. You don’t want to antagonize a Potter, do you?”
A muscle twitched in the prince’s jaw but otherwise he didn’t react to the sorcerer’s jab. “I-I have been very rude to you, Harry, and I’m sorry for it.” Draco stepped towards him. “Am I forgiven?”
Harry still wanted to punch him. But it was a display of anger that had caused trouble last night and Snape was watching them both narrowly. “Sure. No problem,” he replied, his voice no less stiff than Draco’s.
The prince smiled then, his face so radiant it was like watching the sun come out. However, he looked more relieved than repentant and Harry told himself not to be taken in by it.
Draco fell into step beside Harry. “Now that we’re on good terms again, I’m hoping we can eat breakfast without acrimony, Harry,” he murmured, nudging Harry with his shoulder.
“That remains to be seen, Draco,” the sorcerer rapped out. He glared at the two of them, an angry light glinting in his eyes.
Now what? Harry thought. Honestly, the man’s moods were so extreme. What could have set him off now?
Breakfast was conducted with very polite conversation and so there was an undercurrent of strain even worse than from the previous night. Draco sat close to Harry before the sorcerer could prevent him, making sure to touch him surreptitiously whenever he could. Snape sat at the other end of the table, glowering at them both.
Harry wanted to ask for his second gift but felt reluctant to do so with Draco around. He was supposed to be here to rescue the prince not get rewards for odd jobs.
It was strange. Draco was very good-looking, beautiful even. But, when he was away from him, Harry didn’t think about the prince at all. More and more, his thoughts kept turning to the silent, brooding, dark figure watching them under hooded eyelids.
Harry was lingering over his second cup of tea when Snape threw down his napkin. He tapped the table with his wand and the table cleared. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco sneak a scone into his pocket just before the food vanished. He wished he’d thought of that. Something told him he’d be getting nothing until the noonday meal – if he were lucky.
“Draco, I have potions bottles that require classification. You are to label them – neatly – and write down in a book the names of the potions, the ingredients, their Latin names and their various uses. You are not to leave the basement until you’re finished. If you are diligent, you should be done in time for your luncheon.” At the lad’s grimace, he added, “I’m sure the scone you pinched from the table will be sufficient to hold you until noon.”
He swept from the room. Harry ran after him, hiding a smirk at Draco’s embarrassment at getting caught.
He trotted after the sorcerer, noting that he was being taken outside again. “Sir?”
“What is it, Potter?” the man snapped.
“My second reward…”
“Yes, yes. What do you wish?”
“A mirror to look into.”
Snape stopped, so quickly Harry nearly ran into him. “Truly, you ask for the oddest things, Potter. One would assume that rich father of yours would be able to buy you something as paltry as toiletries. First a comb and now a mirror. What’s next? A toothbrush? Nail file? Boot polish?”
“I don’t have to give my reasons, sir. Will you grant my request or not?”
There was a grinding noise – was that Snape’s teeth? – then the sorcerer swung back abruptly towards the house, Harry taking two steps for each one of his. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and Snape walked to the very end of the corridor.
Harry was ushered into a richly furnished room that he immediately knew was Snape’s personal quarters. Green and silver was everywhere, signaling his allegiance to Slytherin house. The walls were covered with books, as were the various tables and portions of the floor.
Catching Harry’s attention was the large curtained bed against the wall. But even more prominent was the ornate mirror placed in the far corner of the room next to the closet.
Snape waved Harry over to stand before the glass. “This is the Mirror of Erised. Its properties will no doubt be known to you. This will be your second reward.” He spoke in a distant tone, as though the dispensing of this object meant nothing to him.
Harry stood in front of it. The mirror was easily the most extravagant one he’d ever seen. It stood at least seven feet tall and upright on two clawed feet, resembling the claws of a dragon. A fancy gold frame surrounded the glass itself with words inscribed all along the edge of it. But they were in no language that he recognized.
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. What did that mean? And what did Snape mean about “its properties being known” to him? It was just a mirror, wasn’t it?
Just behind him stood Snape. But the man’s expression was startling. The normally blank eyes were aflame, seething with emotion. He placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and tilted up Harry’s face towards his. Their lips met as Snape kissed him passionately.
Harry’s eyes widened. He could feel nothing on his shoulders. Snape wasn’t touching him at all! But how he wanted him to; how he wanted to see desire blazing from those obsidian eyes.
A violent flush spread across his skin. He knew now exactly what this mirror did. It showed the heart’s desire and, apparently, he desired Snape.
No, this wasn’t possible. Perhaps the mirror was deceiving him. But the images didn’t fade or change. Now the Snape-reflection was kissing him ardently, Harry’s twin image wound in his arms. When the glass showed one pale hand moving under his jumper to caress the naked flesh beneath, Harry knew he’d seen enough.
Hoping this revelation wasn’t written on his face, he pulled out his wand. In as steady a voice as he could, he murmured the Reduction Charm. The mirror shrank until it was as small as his palm. He pocketed it, feeling it nestle against the comb, and turned towards Snape.
The sorcerer was no longer behind him. With his customary soundlessness, he’d moved to stand at the door. “Don’t dawdle, Potter.” Impatiently, he waved Harry out and the teenager had no choice but to follow.
Had he seen what Harry had? There was no way he could have witnessed that vision and be so indifferent. Maybe the mirror revealed its mystical images differently to each viewer. He hoped so; he didn’t know how he’d face the other man otherwise.

TBC
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Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Tasks