"To love is not to look at one another, but to look together in the same direction"
--Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Prologue

"Harry, I've found a spell," Hermione whispered, pulling him aside when he would have gone into the Great Hall for lunch.

Since they had returned to school, after months of searching for and destroying Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes, Hermione had been searching for a spell that would release and control Harry's dormant power. A thrill raced through him that she'd finally succeeded. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?" Ron said, appearing right next to them. He put a hand on each of their shoulders, squeezing slightly.

Both he and Hermione started.

"Don't do that," Hermione complained. But she was trying not to smile.

Ron looked down at her and Harry. He'd gained a lot of height over the summer and autumn, and now towered over them. "Sorry. It's automatic now."

In constant danger, they all had learned to move silently out of necessity, but Ron could move like a shadow.

"Hermione, what have you found?" Harry could hardly wait to hear.

"Not here." Hermione made a point of looking around. Everyone was streaming into the Hall, seemingly not paying them any mind.

But Harry knew only too well that looks could be deceiving. "When? After lunch? We could take a walk around the lake."

Hermione shook her head, tendrils of her tied-back hair escaping their bonds and fluttering around her face. "No. I can't until after three."

"Don't you have a free period after lunch?" Ron asked, frowning. He pushed his over-long hair out of his face.

Surprisingly, Hermione blushed. "Yes. But I'm meeting Malfoy --"

"--Malfoy!" Ron's face was red, too. "Why --"

"You know very well that he and I are working on an Arithmancy project together." She squared her shoulders and scowled at Ron, as if daring him to argue.

Neither he nor Ron would do that. They had all been very grateful that McGonagall had allowed them to return for the winter term. Unsurprisingly, Hermione had been frantic about catching up and preparing for her NEWTs. So much so, that she'd agreed to work with Malfoy in several of her classes.

From what she'd said to him and Ron, Malfoy was less belligerent and much more studious than in previous years. That, after the trauma of the last year, Malfoy had matured. Harry hadn't seen it, of course since Malfoy still found it necessary to annoy him at every opportunity.

"Okay," Harry said. "Do you want to take a walk at three?"

"Fine," she said as the students going into the Great Hall started to thin out. "We should go into lunch."

Harry didn't mind. Without both of them, he'd never have been able to accomplish his tasks. He was more than grateful for them and their unflagging support.

"As I told you, I've found a spell." Hermione should have sounded more...positive or something.

"Great. But why did we need to come all the way out here for you to say that?" Harry looked Hermione and then shared a quick smile with Ron.

"It's not an ordinary spell --"

"Of course not," Ron cut in, his smile fading. "Or we wouldn't have needed you to find it."

She met Harry's eyes. "It's a sex magic spell."

"Bloody Hell!" Ron burst out.

Clearly Ron hadn't been expecting that, but then, neither was Harry. He took a deep breath and gathered his courage. "Okay, how exactly is sex going to give me enough control over my power to defeat Voldemort?"

"When the spell is invoked, your dormant power will be released and you'll borrow the control from your partner to manage it." She looked right at him, her gaze unwavering. "There are tests to see who will fit best --"

Ron snorted. "That is such a bad choice of words."

"Oh, grow up, Ronald! This is serious." Hermione's words were sharp, but her look was a bit more tolerant.

The few weeks Ron and Hermione had been together as a couple had been filled with bitter arguments. Harry had been terrified they would destroy not only their relationship with each other, but also his relationship with each of them. Thankfully, they had realized what they were doing before it was too late. Despite their aborted romantic relationship, they had managed to remain good friends, for which Harry was extremely grateful.

Hermione turned to look at Harry and sighed, heavily. "I hope you realize that your partner won't be a student."

"I suppose that makes sense. Tell me the rest of it." Harry ignored the nagging in his mind about who it might be. He'd deal with it when he had to. To defeat Voldemort, he could and would bed anyone. It wasn't as if he were a blushing innocent.

After he'd broken up with Ginny, which still gave him a pang to think about, he'd ended up losing his virginity to her older brother, Charlie. During the weeks before and after Bill's wedding, he'd learned a fabulous amount about how good sex could be with an older, more experienced lover. He liked Charlie a lot, but he hadn't loved him. To Harry's mind, that made him safe.

Unfortunately, Ginny hadn't seen it that way. She'd been quite annoyed with him and had started dating someone else as soon as school started.

Harry understood, or at least he tried to. He'd gone on dating boys, with the thought that he wouldn't get so involved. That hadn't worked out as he'd hoped, either.

"This is an old spell, probably from the time of the Founders. It was initially used to tap the power of a landholding wizard's children for defense. Then, as now, a wizard or witch did not come into their full power until they were in their late twenties or early thirties. With this spell, they would be married usually as a teenager, to someone older and with more control, but less power. The child would then absorb their spouse's control as their dormant power was released." Hermione was in full-blown lecture mode. Something that usually irritated Harry, but this time he was grateful for the information.

"Harry doesn't have to marry the person, does he?" Ron looked horrified at the thought of that.

Even if he did want a family some day, Harry wasn't ready for it now. "How long can the spell be sustained?"

"No. You don't have to marry your partner." Hermione was silent for a moment, thinking. "And the spell can be maintained indefinitely. That's probably why they married. They needed to keep up the defense for long periods of time."

"Eventually, they -- the heirs -- learned to control their magic themselves, right?" Harry hated to think about being dependant on someone else for his control for the rest of his life.

"Yes, but it requires practice. Just like it would under any other circumstances."

"It sounds kind of mercenary. I mean sacrificing your children for their power." Ron's tone was disapproving.

"It was for the good of the family. Everyone usually lived together in large, multi-generational, family groups back then," Hermione explained. "Actually, it wasn't that bad. The child is the one in control of the sex magic. They initiate it. They are the one who is dominant in the sex act, too."

Ron shook his head, his expression confused. "It doesn't make sense. I mean, why would Harry be dominant, when he's the one who needs the control?"

"He is taking and his partner is giving. He must be in control to do so." It sounded like it made perfect sense to her.

"So whoever it is has to submit to me?" There was some part of Harry that liked that idea a lot.

"Submit and enjoy it. Though I think submission is the wrong word, really." Hermione's brow creased. "I think that it's more about letting you lead, rather than submitting to you."

"But I would be in charge with another man?" Which was good, since Harry had a few issues with being on the bottom that had very little to do with the pleasure of it.

"You have to lead, but if you wanted to be penetrated, you could probably top from the bottom," she said quite matter-of-factly.

Harry wondered how she knew so much about gay sex. "I think I'll just top from the top, thanks."

Ron laughed at that. "How does the spell work?"

"The spell is evoked over five nights --"

Harry gulped. He might have been able to do it once with almost anyone, but, "Five times?"

"It's a slow transfer. To give you time to adjust to the release of your power and absorb the control you need. It doesn't say that you should, but I think you should practice control as your power is released."

"That makes sense. Where did you find this? In the Restricted Section?" Ron asked.

"Please. There is nothing like that in the school library. I found a couple of references to it in the adult section of Flourish & Blotts." Hermione had that superior look on her face again.

The one that always made Harry want to laugh. He controlled himself, knowing it would annoy her. "How did you get in there?"

"It's not like it is here at school. I'm of age and I have the galleons. They had just received a shipment in from an estate sale and I got to it first."

"Where did you get the money for it?" Ron asked. They all knew that it took a lot of galleons to buy those kinds of books.

"I used some of the money in the account that you set up for expenses when we were hunting the Horcruxes. I didn't think you'd mind. Do you?" She didn't seem overly concerned.

Harry shook his head, pleased that she'd thought of it. He'd nearly forgot about that account. "You know it was there for all of us to use. This was important."

"Okay, so you found this spell. Have you told anyone else?" Ron asked.

"No. I don't want to tell too many people about it. The spell borders on...Dark magic."

"All sex magic does, doesn't it?" Harry thought that it was a good idea not to mention it to anyone they didn't have to tell. "Um...How is the person going to be picked?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, that was my next question."

"As I said, there are a series of tests that need to be performed. I'm going to ask Shacklebolt to test the members of the Order. I think he can do it without letting anyone know what the tests are for."

"That sounds like a good idea to me." Harry would prefer that as few people knew about this as possible.

"Ugh...that could be anyone." Ron looked a little sick. "It could be my parents."

Harry's heart sank. The idea that he might have to...no, he wasn't going to think about that. It wouldn't be either of them. "Do you think Shacklebolt is going to go for it? I mean, what if he balks?"

"He won't. I think everyone is getting a bit desperate. We've had so many attacks since Christmas. Scrimgeour is desperate to do something," Hermione said, sounding sad.

Harry shuddered. So many of his classmates had suffered losses. "I hate this waiting around, not being able to do anything."

"It's not like we're not doing anything -- we're still catching up from missing the first term." Hermione never forgot how far behind they had been and she never let them forget either.

"If we don't do something about Voldemort, everything else will be for nothing." Ron's expression was still intense.

"With this, Harry will have his chance. And the good thing is that your power and control will last several days and then fade back to normal."

"I'm not sure that's so good," Ron said. "I mean, why would you want it to fade back."

"So that I can have a normal life, maybe?" Harry didn't want his power to become dominant without knowing how to use it. The potential for disaster was enormous. It scared the bloody hell out of him.

Hermione nodded. "If you want the power and control to continue past that point, you need only have sex a couple of times a week."

"Yeah, but who is it going to be?" Ron hadn't lost that slightly green look. He had to be thinking of some of the more unpleasant possibilities.

"I think I'll deal with that when it happens. Let's not talk about it, now." But Harry knew he'd do whatever he had to so that Voldemort was destroyed. If that meant having sex with someone he didn't want to sleep with, so be it.

"We need to get back up to school, too." Hermione nodded to them as she started back towards the school.

He and Ron looked at each other and followed her.

Part 1

Snape's robes swept across the floor as he stalked back and forth, his steps more than the width of the Room of Requirement should have allowed. There was some part of his brain that knew that the room was accommodating itself to his need to pace, but mostly he avoided thinking about it. He also avoided looking at either the cheerily burning fireplace or the canopied bed in the corner. As a matter of fact, he was trying hard to convince himself this wasn't happening at all.

Of all the awful things he'd been required to do in his life, this was...perhaps not the most awful, but it had to be near the top of the list. His insides clenched around themselves. The calming draught he'd brewed to extra strength could only do so much against the hideousness of what he had to do. Snape shuddered and turned to go in the other direction.

A noise sounded in the hallway and he jumped, a gasp escaping his best effort to control it. It would not do for him to show fear. And he knew he must reek of it.

He shook his head in disgust. What was the matter with him? Oh, wait, he knew. He was about to have sex with a student.

A male student.

His least favorite male student. Not that any student, male or otherwise would have been acceptable. As was true with so many things in his life, the entire situation was less than acceptable.

He hated that damned know-it-all. Why had she taken it into her bushy head to find a spell to help Potter?

As much as he wanted to ignore the answer, he couldn't. People were dying, of that Snape was too well aware. And Potter needed to lead the offensive to defeat the Dark Lord. But while Potter had the dormant power necessary, if he were to have any chance in hell, he desperately needed the control that this spell afforded him. Even if that spell was sex magic.

The Order and its de facto head, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had deemed it light enough to allow its use. But they all knew that even the Darkest of Arts could be allowed for Potter. Snape rolled his shoulders, attempting to loosen the tension in his upper back.

It would only be the five times.

It would only occur under these circumstances.

They would use the Room of Requirement, when all the students had gone home for the Spring Holiday. No one need know beyond the participants. It was better that way, more secure.

There had been several tests to judge which kind of magic most closely resembled Potter's. Snape, unfortunately, matched him quite closely. Closer than any of the other witches or wizards of the Order. Had it been possible, Snape would have foisted this duty onto anyone else he could have managed. The only other person who had come close, had surprisingly been Molly Weasley and her magic wasn't nearly as powerful as his. Beyond that, she was a much less acceptable choice to Potter than he had been.

The door opened and Potter came in. Snape breathed out sharply, hoping that if he didn't open his eyes, this wouldn't happen.

"Professor?" Potter's tone was tentative and reserved enough that Snape knew he had to look at him.

Potter looked scared to death. Snape wondered if he'd bothered taking the calming draught himself. It would be just like him not to have done. The boy was too stupid to know what was good for him. "Come inside." Snape couldn't help the sharpness of his tone when speaking to Potter -- it was automatic. And in this case, quite necessary to set the emotional tone for this encounter.

Shacklebolt had wrung a promise of not only cooperation from him, but the submissiveness that the spell required. Perhaps submission was the incorrect term, but it was better than saying he had been ordered to be nice to Harry Potter.

Snape's stomach twisted with the ignominy of the situation.

At his scowl, Potter looked ready to take him on, indeed he seemed to draw in breath to do so and Snape would have welcomed the fight. Instead, Potter managed to rein in his annoyance and deflated. "I'm sorry about this --"

"Spare me your misbegotten sympathies." Snape was not in the mood to placate Potter. Given the requirements of the spell, he was the one who should be placated.

"If there were any other way."

"There isn't. We have to do this, so let's just get it over with." Snape's bravado was not going to last long, and from Potter's look, Snape could see he knew it, too.

"Um..."

"Sweet Merlin, you have done this before?" Ginny Weasley not withstanding, there were rumors of Potter's exploits with boys. Snape hoped they were true. It would be so much easier and less humiliating if Potter did not have to be led through this.

"Yes. I have. But...but...I get the feeling that maybe you haven't."

Snape had no intention of allowing that discussion. "What difference does it make? We are required to do this. And I'd rather not spend all night at it."

"Well..." Potter blushed. "We have to do more than do it. We both have to enjoy it."

Snape had not forgotten about that part. He closed his eyes and prayed that this was all a nightmare. That he wasn't going to not only let Potter fuck him, but also smile while Potter did it. He wanted to vomit.

"Do you want to get started, sir?" Potter said, squaring his shoulders in typical Gryffindor fashion.

It occurred to Snape that Potter almost never called him sir. He must be afraid and while that pleased Snape on some level, he could also relate to it. He took a breath and felt a forced calm wash over him. "What do you suggest?"

"We should undress and get into bed and then sort of ...." Potter's blush deepened.

"There is no 'sort of' here. We have to fuck." Snape hoped that saying it baldly would make himself believe it was actually going to happen. All it did was exacerbate his stomach's unrest.

"Yes, sir. More specifically I have to--"

"I know what you have to do, and saying it out loud won't help either of us accomplish the task." Snape shuddered as the physical sensations of nausea got worse.

"Fine. But that doesn't change the fact that we will do it," Potter snapped. He looked like he regretted it. He hadn't moved any closer, Snape was grateful to note.

As he thought it, Potter stepped up to him, and pushed Snape's hair back from his face in an unexpectedly tender gesture. Snape was so startled that he froze.

"This isn't going to work very well if you won't let me touch you."

Snape had nothing to say to that. He forced himself to stand still, but he couldn't seem to stop the trembling that had taken over his body.

"You're shaking," Potter said, pointing out the obvious. "I won't hurt you."

"As the spell will fail if you do, I rather think you would be wise not to." Snape could hear the horror in his none-too-steady voice and hated it.

Clearly, so could Potter. He leaned in and pressed his face against Snape's neck, breathing in deeply. "You smell good."

Snape wasn't sure what to say to that. Was a response required? He remained silent and still, but his heart was hammering against his rib cage so hard that it hurt. Merlin, how he hated this. "You needn't lie to me. I--"

"I'm not lying. You do smell good. I was afraid you'd smell like potions' fumes, but you smell like the forest."

"I was brewing floor cleaners for Filch this afternoon." If he'd thought about it, he would have brewed something foul smelling.

Potter nuzzled his neck. "Mmm..."

The warmth of Potter's breath ghosted over his neck and he shivered. It had been too long since a woman had been this close to him.

Using a firm grip, Potter took hold of his chin and turned his head until their eyes met. Keeping eye contact, he leaned up slightly to kiss him. Snape had half-expected either violence or ineptness, and was surprised when neither materialized.

It was a soft kiss. Dry lips touching his. Nothing to panic about yet, Snape told himself. A kiss was just a kiss. In theory at least, the gender of the person doing it didn't matter.

Potter leaned in again, kissing him longer this time and Snape's pulse picked up. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but Potter's touch was smooth and soft. It surprised him how nice it felt. Of course, he hadn't been kissed by anyone in so long that he would respond to any kindness that came his way.

Another kiss followed that one and then another. Snape had to admit, at least to himself, that Potter could kiss. He knew just how to draw it out and how to stroke his tongue and how to use his teeth for just the tiniest bit of sharpness.

Too soon, Potter's hand moved to his robes. Snape stiffened and pulled away before he could stop himself.

"Shhh..." Potter murmured, his hands going flat against Snape's chest for a count or two before he started on Snape's buttons.

Shortly, Potter had him divested of his outer robe. Snape shivered.

"Is the room too cold?" Potter's tone was solicitous.

"No." He said nothing else, even though he wanted to rant about the circumstances that put him in the control of one of his students.

He'd related that to Shacklebolt at the top of his lungs, and the blasted man had nodded, agreeing with him in one breath and saying there was no choice in the next. He had the nerve to say that sacrifices had to be made. Except -- except that Snape was the one making the sacrifices. A voice in his head calmly pointed out that he was the one who had also committed the crimes that required it. Viciously, he squelched that voice.

There was no question in his mind that he had to do this. After last summer and his part in Dumbledore's death, he should have been a fugitive. However, McGonagall had had certain knowledge of Dumbledore's plans. She had also managed to relay them to Potter before the idiot could go public with what he knew.

Snape had been grateful not to be a party to that conversation, though he'd heard that Potter had been so actively hostile McGonagall had been required to stun him, and then force him into Dumbledore's Pensieve.

After that, there was still much speculation in The Prophet, but Potter managed to keep his mouth shut. Without a witness to substantiate the rumors, the Ministry had been unable to act.

He and Draco were able to 'escape' the Dark Lord's clutches and return to school relatively unscathed. His place in the Dark Lord's inner circle had been advanced by what happened, even if some of the Death Eaters still didn't trust him.

Potter touched his jaw to get his attention and then leaned in to kiss him again. Almost of their own accord, his lips opened to allow Potter access. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse, Potter's tongue delved into his mouth, clearly trying to coax a response out of Snape.

Despite himself, Snape did respond. Reluctantly. He wouldn't have guessed that Potter would be generous.

They kissed for a time. Potter's tongue explored his mouth, and then coaxed his tongue back to explore Potter's mouth.

Kissing a man was not so different from kissing a woman, Snape decided. It was a bit more...he wasn't sure aggressive was the right word. But there was a firmness to Potter's kiss that was absent with any woman he'd ever kissed. In spite of what he knew he looked like, and what he was sure that Potter thought, he'd actually kissed quite a lot of women in his life.

Once again, Potter's fingers found his buttons and this time, Snape made an effort to allow it. Potter had his shirt unbuttoned and off his shoulders in a matter of seconds. His undershirt soon followed.

Some part of Snape wanted to protest that his clothes should not be dumped so unceremoniously on the floor. But really, what did it matter at this point? He bit back the comment, and tried to focus on what Potter was doing to him.

"Your skin is so white." The way Potter said it did not sound at all like the insult he was expecting. Potter ran his fingertips slowly across his chest.

"What other color would it be?" Snape said, stilling the desire to arch into the touch. He'd always thought his skin resembled nothing so much as the underside of a cod.

"It's such a creamy color. I've always fancied that." Potter smiled and ran a finger along Snape's arm.

He couldn't suppress his shiver. "You needn't lie to me. I know what I look like." If there was one thing that Snape hated, it was useless flattery, especially when it was so blatantly being said to manipulate him.

"You might be a bastard, but you've got nice skin." Potter's tone was insulted.

Although he'd promised not to, Snape sneered at him and said, "Ten points for disrespect."

"You can't take points in here," Potter said, an annoyed look crossing his face.

It gave Snape a savage kind of pleasure to put that look there. "I just did."

"It won't count against Gryffindor."

Maybe not, but it gave Snape the illusion of power. Or it would have, had Potter been at all cowed. The dratted boy didn't seem to know what fear was.

Potter's hands went to his chest, and slowly moved down it, fingers mapping his skin like a blind man trying to learn what he looked like. As much as it annoyed Snape to admit it, the touch felt good. Nice. And again, Potter's touch held no arrogance. No presumption.

Still, it didn't feel quite right. Potter's hands were calloused and hard, not soft as he expected or wanted. Snape wasn't sure he minded that as much as he thought he should have.

When Potter's mouth connected with Snape's neck, he was startled from his reverie and he let out a little gasping breath of pleasure. He would have called it back if he could have.

Potter's inquisitive tongue licked across his sensitized skin and Snape shivered. Again, he would have denied the pleasure, but part of the spell required that he give into it and so he closed his eyes and let it take him away. Potter's lips moved down and he flicked his tongue over Snape's nipple.

Snape sucked in a breath as a spark of fire raced down his spine and into his groin. He hadn't expected to respond, and certainly not like this. What Potter was doing was nothing that hadn't been done before, but it had been women doing it. He'd never responded to it quite like this. Vaguely, Snape wondered if it weren't the calming potion having some kind of effect on him.

Potter's mouth moved on and Snape knew now was not the time to think about it. When Potter's hand's got to the button on his trousers, Potter looked up, asking permission. It was not as if he could refuse, even if he wanted to.

Soon after that, he stood naked before a fully dressed Potter. There should have been something wrong with that. He should have felt vulnerable. Indeed, Snape wondered at his own complacency, but the thought seemed to float away before he could concentrate on it. He could not credit that Potter was looking at him with so much appreciation in his eyes.

"You really do have marvelous skin."

"Potter, I've told you before you don't have to compliment me. I know what I look like. My skin is scarred and pasty white." Even as he said it, Snape was pleased not to be found revolting. He could have dealt with anything Potter had said in the way of insults, and he would have, but some part of him was glad that he didn't have to.

"It's nice and I like it." Potter had that I-dare-you-to-argue-with-me tone down pat.

And it annoyed the hell out of Snape. "Don't get used to it. This won't be happening again --"

Potter met his eyes with a serious expression. "Five nights. We have to do this for five nights."

"I realize that. If all of our information is correct, you'll meet the Dark Lord on the following weekend in Hogsmeade."

Potter's face paled, but he nodded. "I know. Have you told Voldemort I'll be there?"

Snape nodded. "The last time I was called. I told him the Headmistress had given you and Weasley passes to go into Hogsmeade for a few hours on Saturday."

"Me and Ron? Why did you do that? I'd rather not have him at risk." Potter sounded quite worried.

As well he should be, but, unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about it. "With Weasley here for the break, how would you explain him not accompanying you? Several teachers will be going with you as well. Everyone out for a bit of a holiday."

Potter seemed to mull that over for a moment. "I guess I can't, but still...."

For some reason that Snape did not wish to examine too closely there was a part of him that wanted to reassure Potter, but it would only be platitudes and Potter, he suspected, knew such things were worthless.

"Right then. Let's get on with it."

A shiver of dread went through Snape. What was he doing? Oh, wait, he did know.

Potter ran a finger along his hip and then back up his chest, to cup his hand at the nape of Snape's neck. He pulled Snape in for another kiss, his hands never stilling as they moved over his naked skin.

After several long moments, Potter pulled back. He met Snape's eyes and moved his hands to his own clothes. It only took him a few minutes to shuck them off, and then he stood before Snape, looking apprehensive, as if he expected Snape to reject him. As if that were ever an option. Snape sighed.

Since it was inevitable anyway, Snape could not resist taking a good look at what would be coming his way.

Over the last year or two, Potter had gained a bit of height. He stood nearly eye-to-eye with Snape. He'd put on some weight as well. His body was young and toned, and Snape could appreciate that, even as he told himself it did nothing for him sexually. That he was aroused had more to do with the breaking of a years-long deficit of contact than who was doing the touching. Still, Potter didn't look bad. For a boy. Man.

When Potter stepped forward and slid his arms around Snape, he settled into the embrace for a moment, the tenderness surprising him. Potter kissed him at length before maneuvering him to the bed that Snape had been steadfastly ignoring.

There was no denying what would happen. Not that he'd thought he'd have a chance to back out. Not unless the Dark Lord dropped dead in the next five minutes. Snape didn't believe in hope and as divine intervention was unlikely, he was going to have to let Potter fuck him.

He shivered again.

"Don't think too hard, sir," Potter said, sympathetically.

"Don't call me 'sir' in bed." Snape could not think of anything more wrong.

The blush on Potter's cheeks said he'd caught the implication. "Um..."

How much and what variety of experience did Potter have, Snape wondered. "If you must use a name, use my given name." He paused, sneering at Potter's flummoxed expression. "If you use it outside of this room or these circumstances, I will hex you. And then take a hundred points."

"Yes, sir... Severus," Potter stammered.

Something about the way he said it slid pleasantly along Snape's nerves. He hated that he liked the sound of Potter saying his name.

"Why don't we lie down?" Potter backed up and moved to lie down on his side.

After Snape had done as he'd asked, Potter rolled on top of him, shifting a moment before finding a comfortable position.

Snape grunted. He wanted to say something nasty, and to push Potter off him. But the boy's naked body did not feel unpleasant, not nearly as much as he would have expected, especially given what was pressing hard and warm against his hip. He shouldn't like this. He was straight, and it made him uncomfortable, but he wasn't horrified and he wasn't unaffected.

"Severus...where are you?" Potter's voice had a note of command and Snape looked up.

"What do you want?"

Potter leaned down and kissed him. "Just that. You seemed far away."

"I'm trying not.... Never mind. Proceed." Snape let out a breath and closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn't look....

"Relax." Potters' hands stroked across his arms and down his chest.

"As if it were possible," Snape ground out, his patience running suddenly thin. What did Potter want from him?

Potter kissed him again, deeply, his tongue invading Snape's mouth, his hand brushing lightly over Snape's body. After a second's hesitation, when Snape debated the wisdom of it, he kissed back. There was no question that he had to do this, nor any question that he didn't want to, but perhaps he could find some enjoyment in it.

  When Potter shifted again, it was to drop his thigh between Snape's and then press intimately into him. Merlin, it felt good. He groaned and pressed back. Lovely, wicked sensations washed over him. He leaned into it. There was certainly pleasure to be had, even if it were Potter doing the giving.

Almost against his will, he arched into Potter's touch. Those callused fingers felt surprisingly good against his skin. It was not a sensation he would have ever thought he'd enjoy, but there was no denying it, at least to himself.

Potter's mouth went to work on his chest again and Snape settled back into the bedding, angling up a bit to allow him better access. Who would have thought that someone as selfish as Potter would turn out to be such a generous lover?

Lover? No, that was not the right word for what Potter was, not in the slightest. Snape didn't have any idea what Potter was or would be to him, but whatever he was, a lover he was not.

As Potter made his way down Snape's torso, he seemed intent on tasting every bit of Snape's flesh along the way. Perhaps Potter did find him appealing for some reason. Snape couldn't believe it, but one never knew with Potter. He was an odd duck.

Snape supposed that it didn't matter. Potter was spending a vast amount of time --

"Ah..." Against his will, Snape let out a lust-filled moan and arched his back as Potter's mouth closed over him without warning. And Merlin, God, and Circe, Potter knew how to suck. How to angle himself to take all of Snape in.

Nearly forgotten pleasure washed over Snape, sending him soaring with it. At that moment, he did not care whose mouth was on him, who was giving him that incredible pleasure. Snape moaned again, thrusting his hips forward, sliding deeper into Potter's throat. Wet heat surrounded him. He knew with what few brain cells were left to him that he was going to come in a matter of seconds.

He cried out loudly enough that some part of him was mortified by the sound he was making. Mostly though, he was too involved with it to care. It had been too long.

It took a couple of seconds for the pleasure haze to lift. When it did, he watched Potter smile down at him. He slid his hands along Snape's thighs, nudging them apart.

Potter kissed him again. "I think it's going to be more comfortable for you from the back."

His stomach twisted and the last of the post-orgasm haze dissipated completely. "It's not going to be comfortable no matter what you do --"

"Oh, there you are so wrong. It can be amazingly pleasurable." And Potter sounded very certain of that.

"So, you've allowed someone to fuck you?" Snape had heard the rumors of the Ravenclaw boy, Luis Fulbright's bragging. Everyone at the school had. He'd taken fifty points from Ravenclaw over the day or two the boy was stupid enough to keep it up, just as all the other teachers had. Ravenclaw got the message. They shut him up after a day of bleeding points. It wasn't that Snape cared about Potter so much as he detested that kind of braggart.

"A couple of times. Yes. The position has some bad connotations associated with it that have more to do with things other than the actual pleasure of it."

After that incident, it was no wonder. Also, from what Snape had read, there could be power issues involved. He bitterly resented that he was forced to give over what little power he had. "Get on with it."

"How?" Potter asked.

It took a moment for Snape to figure out what he meant. And it didn't matter one way or another to him as long as Potter was fast about it, and didn't hurt him any more than necessary. Though it occurred to him that on his belly he wouldn't have to watch Potter's smug face while he did it. With that in mind, he rolled over, trying hard to breathe around the panic that wanted to rise in him. He sincerely hoped that the twisting of his stomach would stop once Potter got on with things.

He couldn't help it, when Potter touched his shoulder, he jumped.

"You've got a mole...." Potter seemed inordinately pleased with that and licked Snape's shoulder where the mole was.

Snape shivered as Potter's tongue swirled around his shoulders and neck. He tried hard to ignore the fingers that were delving in between his arse cheeks. One pressed too intimately against him and it was all he could do not to bolt upright and run for his life.

"Shh.... Let me do this," Potter whispered, his hand caressing the small of Snape's back, moving lower again.

"It is not as though I have a choice." He wanted his freedom. Badly enough to offer his body in exchange for the chance that this boy might win against all odds.

"Of course you do." Potter pulled back and Snape turned his head back to look at him.

"Don't be ridiculous. If we don't do this, you'll never gain the control over your power. Without it, you won't defeat the Dark Lord. And I will have to continue to serve him."

"I'm sorry," Potter said, sounding like he actually meant it, which Snape could not credit.

"Don't be sorry. Just do it." Snape was losing patience with this quite rapidly. He wanted it done and over with.

"Accio lubricant," Potter said in answer.

Subsiding back into the bed, Snape heard the bottle smack into Potter's hand. Snape had brewed it himself, knowing what would be required. There was a bit of a numbing property to it. Hopefully, it would not hurt as badly as he feared it might. So far, Potter had showed himself considerate and that bode well for the state of Snape's arse at the end of the night.

A slick finger pressed into him without warning -- or perhaps he hadn't been paying attention. Either way, he let out a most undignified yelp.

"Okay?" Potter asked, his finger still imbedded where it had gone.

It was not uncomfortable. One of the women of his acquaintance had been quite adept at pleasure with her fingers. He'd quite liked that. Pity she had taken an assignment on the continent. "Fine," Snape said.

Potter did something different, moving his finger. It wasn't uncomfortable, exactly. It felt odd, full. After a moment or two the feeling became more tolerable.

Eventually, Potter slid another finger into him, and it was all Snape could do not to pull away. That was most uncomfortable. It was, in fact, bordering on pain. Snape breathed out and then in very slowly as Potter worked his fingers, the other hand moving comfortingly along Snape's back.

After another moment, it turned into a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. Snape was not all together sure that he cared for it. Not that it made any difference what he thought. When Potter finally removed his fingers, Snape sighed with relief, even knowing it would be all too short a respite.

A pillow was shoved under his hips and his legs were nudged further apart. Snape had been trying hard not to think about any of it, but as the blunt tip started to breach him, reality struck and panic ensued.

 Sweet Merlin, he could not do this. He could not allow anyone to do this to him. He gathered his strength to push Potter off, but it was already too late. Potter had pushed more than halfway into him.

Fuck, it hurt.

Snape took deep breaths and tried to keep himself from screaming as he was nearly split in half. Potter pushed in again and Snape whimpered, "Stop."

Potter froze. "I know it hurts."

"You don't know the half of it. You obviously didn't prepare me properly," Snape wheezed. Breathing hard, and sweating profusely, Snape was a moment away from shrieking at the top of his lungs. "I read that the pain was minimal if the recipient was properly prepared. The pain is not minimal."

"I did the best I could with you paying absolutely no attention. It helps if you're involved with what's going on."

What did Potter expect? Willing participation? As if they were lovers? Snape breathed out, letting himself relax. The worst of the constriction had eased a bit, and Potter slid in a bit more. He grunted, glad the pain was abating enough to think clearly.

"Come up on your knees a bit." Potter pulled his hips up and back.

"Why?" Snape allowed himself to be repositioned.

"So that I can do this," Potter said as he reached under him and took his prick in a slick hand.

That, at least, was pleasurable. It was definitely a counter-point to the pain.

Using his other hand, Potter took hold of Snape's hip and pulled back a short distance. Snape half-hoped that Potter had given up the idea. But no, he slid back in at a slightly different angle. It wasn't comfortable letting Potter move in and out of him this way, but it was tolerable. And Potter's hand was distracting him well enough to meet the requirements of the spell.

Just as the pressure and the pleasure started to peak, Potter hit something inside him that sent a jolt of lightning through him.

"Oh, Merlin!" Snape knew Potter had finally managed to find his prostate and that all the information he'd read and only half-believed was in fact, true. "Do that again!"

Behind him, Potter chuckled. "Right then. Here we go."

Snape didn't care that he sounded smug. What he wanted was for Potter to obey this one command. And whatever his reasons, Potter did continue to stroke into him perfectly, raking across it each time. The pleasure was like none he'd ever known before. But Snape had no thoughts left in his head to consider it. Each time Potter moved in and out, he moaned, pleasure shocking through his system. He pressed back into Potter's thrusts, wanting more even as he felt the pleasure cresting over him.

Blast it all! He didn't want it to be over yet.

He was vaguely aware of Potter chanting the words to the spell, and then Potter was growling out his pleasure and so was he. They both went down in a heap, with Potter's not-insignificant weight on top of him.

Snape thought he must have dozed for a time. He woke up to the pleasurable feeling of being held. When he realized that it was Potter next to him, he didn't want any part of it.

He sat up, dislodging Potter.

"What?" Potter asked, blinking up at him myopically.

"I'm going to return to my quarters."

"It's the middle of the night."

"Actually, it's not that late. Besides which, I have no interest in spending more time in this room or with you than I must." Snape retrieved his clothes from the floor and cast a quick charm to spell the wrinkles out. He started to dress, forcing himself not to think about any of what just happened. Time enough later to do that.

Potter sat up, rubbing his eyes. A slightly hurt look crossed his face, but was gone before Snape could be sure it had been there.

Ignoring it and Potter, Snape slipped into his robe. "Do not mistake this for anything other than what it was."

"No chance of that, Severus."

He knew Potter had used his name to make a point, but Snape wasn't going to answer it. He wanted to be out of this room as quickly as possible. Without another word, or glance at Potter, Snape walked out.

He hurried down the corridor to the safety of his rooms. He felt soiled. A shower was what he needed, Scourgify was simply not going to make him feel clean enough to sleep.

Snape sighed to himself. It hadn't been anywhere near as awful as he'd feared it might be. Potter had been considerate. While he might have climaxed from the sex, that didn't mean he was remotely comfortable with what they had done. No matter what the reason for doing it.

In his bathroom, he stripped, spelling the water as hot as he could make it, hoping that he could scrub the night's activities off his skin.

Finally, clean, he leaned against the shower wall breathing in and out slowly, trying to conjure a fantasy about a woman. Some beautiful, blonde-haired witch who looked good and tasted good and smelled good. But after coming twice in a very short time, there was nothing left in him to give more. His prick twitched a little, letting him know the spirit was willing even if the flesh was weak. That was good enough.

Harry sighed and lifted himself out of bed. He might as well go back to the dorm. Gathering his clothes from the floor, he sighed and put them on.

His half-formed hope that Ron would be asleep was dashed as soon as he opened the portrait and saw Ron reading beside the fire. There were only a handful of students in the whole tower for the spring holiday.

Hermione and Ron had briefly argued over who would stay with him. The increased violence over the last term had both Ron and Hermione's parents expecting them to come home for the break. Ron had insisted on staying. Since Molly and Arthur had been concerned about Harry being there alone, they had reluctantly agreed to allow Ron to stay.

"Harry?" Ron looked up, seemingly surprised to him. "You okay, mate?"

"Yeah. Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, let me think. You just had sex with that greasy git. That might have something to do with it," Ron trailed off, blushing.

As much as Harry appreciated Ron's loyalty, he could not talk about Snape in any context right now. "Yeah. And it's done."

"Until tomorrow night, when you've got to do it again."

"Don't remind me."

"Was it that bad?" Ron's tone was sympathetic, as if he expected to be told it had been awful.

But had it been? Harry shook his head. "Not that bad. Just, you know, bloody uncomfortable."

"Sex has never been all that comfortable for me. All those parts fitting together or not. You're worrying about doing it right and if she's enjoying it. Pretty damned awkward, in fact."

That was one of the many things he loved about Ron, he said exactly what he thought. "True. This was more so," Harry said.

Ron peered over at him. "You didn't think it would be any other way, did you?"

"No. Of course not." But Harry knew he was lying. He thought that maybe it would be okay.

"You did, didn't you? Harry, how could you think he'd respond to you? I mean, aside from the fact that he hates you and you hate him, you did know that Snape was straight, right?"

"Straight? No. How do you know that for sure?" Harry had never heard anything, any rumor about Snape one way or another.

"I heard Snape talking to Shacklebolt when it first came out that he was the best match."

"How did you hear that?"

Ron had the grace to blush. "I might have been lurking in a corridor where maybe I shouldn't have been."

"Wearing my cloak?" Not that Harry minded, but he wished Ron had asked. "Maybe the Hufflepuff corridor?"

"Maybe." Ron breathed out, looking relieved that Harry wasn't going to make a fuss.

Harry had other things on his mind. "I should have taken that possibility into account."

Ron stood and stretched. Harry couldn't help but notice the golden brown strip of skin revealed when Ron raised his arms above his head.

As if he knew Harry's thoughts, Ron chuckled. "Like what you see?"

"You are such a flirt." Harry laughed and batted his eyes. "Yeah. You're quite fine. And probably straighter than Snape."

"I am. But you know that I like to flirt," Ron said with a friendly leer.

"Especially with someone safe, huh?" And as far as Harry was concerned, he was as safe as could be.

"You mean you're not interested in me?" Ron knew how to use that crestfallen look to his best advantage.

Harry on the other hand was not fooled for one second. "Give it up, Ron. I know you too well."

As he expected it would, Ron's expression sobered. "So, tell me what happened."

"It was like he wasn't there for most of it. I took Shacklebolt's advice and tried hard to rein back my...aggression with him. I was nice."

"And he was his usual bastard self?" Ron didn't sound like that would surprise him at all.

Harry shook his head. "I think he was trying to be nice, too. Or what passes for it with him. He gave me a calming draught and I'm pretty sure he took it, too."

"That was a good idea," Ron said.

"Yeah. It did help. At least, it helped me."

After a sizable pause, Ron held out a hand for Harry to continue.

"But it was like he wasn't paying attention." Harry didn't want to sound like he was complaining, but really, Snape had made it so much harder on himself.

"I can understand that. When you're not interested in what's going on, but you have to be...I don't know. I think you go some place else in your mind." The amount of understanding in Ron's tone surprised Harry. It was odd that Ron of all people could sympathize with Snape.

"I just wished I could make it good for him." Harry had no idea why it should matter so much. It was Snape after all, but it did matter.

"You don't want to just use him, maybe?" Ron suggested with a smirk.

"Yeah. Sex should be more than that."

Ron laughed, his eyes lighting up. "Harry, you are such a girl."

That prickled, but Harry laughed anyway. "It's just...."

"Yeah. Let's go to bed. This is going to get worse before it's over."

Unfortunately, Harry knew that was true. With a sigh, he followed Ron up the stairs.

Part 2

Harry knocked on the Potions lab door. He heard no answer. When he tried the door, he was surprised that it opened under his hand. Squaring his shoulders, he stuck his head inside and saw that Snape was brewing something.

Snape looked up from his stirring, a scowl forming on his face. "What do you want, Potter?"

Unsure how to approach the subject he actually wanted to talk about and not sure it was a good idea anyway, Harry started with something else. "I was wondering when I was going to be able to practice my control."

"Why would you ask me that?" Snape seemed to be paying only minimal attention as he continued to stir whatever the potion was.

"Because it's your control I'm going to use. Don't you think it would be a good idea if I have some idea how it's going to work?"

For a second, Snape looked like he might explode. "You won't have any more than negligible control today. Come back tomorrow morning."

Stung by the dismissal and not sure why, Harry stood for a moment more.

"Did you want something else?" Snape's tone made it clear that he would not grant any requests.

Harry couldn't help himself, he wanted to know. "Are you straight? I mean, completely so."

That got Snape's attention. He looked up, clearly horrified by the question. "That, of course, is none of your business. And if you had any manners at all, you'd know that."

He wasn't going to let his temper get the better of him. "Well, as I had sex with you last night --"

"You stupid inconsiderate child! I don't know what you hope to accomplish by this display. What part of secret do you not understand? You are not to mention anything that happens in that room outside of it. Ever." Snape's voice was tight and cold, fury radiated off him.

Harry's temper was starting to fray, too. He'd bitten his tongue and tried to be nice, and Snape was being horrid. As usual. "We have to do this."

"You are correct. We must. Therefore, my preferences do not enter into it. Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said, his expression turning hard. "And I assure you, these will count."

Harry knew that tone and that he was pushing his luck with Snape, but he did it anyway. "Sir --"

"I will not answer your questions." It was pretty clear Snape was about a second away from exploding all over the place.

Harry hated this and as usual Snape's attitude made no sense to him. "Why not?"

"Because it is none of your bloody business. Ten points more from Gryffindor. Get out. Now. Or I promise you, it will be thirty."

Harry knew when he was beaten. He fled before Snape could do more than simply take points.

Snape was already there, pacing. He looked even more forbidding than he had the night before, which was to say he looked like he might hex Harry if he approached too quickly.

As if he were trying to gentle a wild beast, Harry moved cautiously closer to him. Snape stopped and sighed, saying nothing at all, but some of the menace seemed to ease out of him.

Harry's own apprehension faded a little as he took a deep breath and steadied himself. Slowly, he raised a hand to Snape's jaw, caressing lightly. Snape shuddered under his fingers. Encouraged, Harry nudged him down a bit, and kissed his mouth softly. Harry's eyes drifted shut as the softness and sweetness of the kiss played out on his senses.

His one hope had been to get through this with as little embarrassment to either of them as possible. However, Snape's response had heartened him. Maybe he could make Snape enjoy it more than he had last night. That would please Harry. He wasn't all that hopeful it could be accomplished. Snape, himself, quite likely would not be able to respond more than he had.

Still determined to try, Harry deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing into Snape's mouth. Snape responded by opening his mouth wider, and returning the caress with his own tongue. Harry shuddered. Despite being ugly and hateful, someone, somewhere, had taught Snape how to kiss, and taught him well. He slid his arms around Snape's shoulders, pulling him a little closer.

Snape's fingers tangled in his hair, taking control. Yielding, Harry went with it as Snape's hands moved to his neck and then his back. The strength in the caress aroused him further.

The kisses went on and on. Harry could hardly believe what a pleasure it was to kiss Snape, how much he enjoyed the feel and taste and texture of Snape's mouth. It was delicious. He could go on kissing him this way all night. He angled his head a bit, pulling back to lick at Snape's thin lips, lips that should not feel so soft or so full under his mouth. Just when Harry was ready to lose himself completely in them, Snape pulled back.

"We should move this forward, I think."

"What?" Dazed, Harry just looked at him for a moment. They had been moving forward as far as he could see. He'd liked what they were doing.

"I do not have all night." Snape's tone was as cold as ice water.

Harry could almost feel it splash all over him. "I like to kiss."

"I am not your lover."

"True enough." Harry knew he shouldn't be annoyed, but that didn't stop him from feeling so. He reached for the buttons on Snape's robe. "If you're in such a hurry to be fucked, by all means, let's get a move on, then."

"Potter--" Snape stopped.

Harry sighed, feeling like he should apologize, but not wanting to give Snape any more ammunition than he already had. "Let me do this."

"I've no choice about that, do I?"

"Of course you do."

"The only other option is to allow the Dark Lord to win. That is more unacceptable than what you are about to do to me." Snape's face twisted in a sneer. "This will be over in four more nights. I can put up with anything for that long."

That certainly put Harry in his place, didn't it? He said nothing, continuing to strip Snape of his clothes, surprised to find him completely aroused under them. Maybe there was more going on here than he thought. Harry wasn't going to consider it, now.

He tossed off his own robes and climbed into the big bed. After a moment's hesitation, Snape also got into bed, lying down stiffly on his back.

For a moment, Harry just looked at him. That white creamy skin was so damned inviting, he wanted to touch it. And that brought him up short. Why? Skin was skin. It wasn't soft and it had its share of scars, more than its share of scars, to be truthful. What made it so appealing --

"Any time you wish to start, Potter." Snape sounded both reluctant and impatient at the same time.

Harry would have found that amusing, if he'd been with anyone else. "Just planning my strategy."

"Sweet Merlin. Tell me you are not serious," Snape said coldly, but with an underlying something that Harry thought was probably nerves.

"I'm not serious," Harry assured him.

Best get started, Harry thought, as he took Snape into his arms, already anticipating touching him. He rolled Snape under him, and lifted a hand to caress his face, noticing that Snape's hair was not as greasy as usual. Leaning down, he kissed Snape deeply, and again, instead of resisting or being passive, Snape kissed him back with more enthusiasm than their first kisses.

Harry gave into the kiss again, letting Snape have his way. At least for the moment. Maybe it would make things go better when Harry had to take control as the spell required.

It was hard to remember that he was supposed to be in charge of both their pleasure when Snape was kissing him to distraction. Harry pulled back a little, putting a hand on Snape's face to hold him still. He dropped several short kisses to Snape's mouth before moving on to his neck. As he nipped at the juncture between his shoulder and neck, Snape moaned softly

Harry liked that sound. To give a lover pleasure was to increase his own. Except that Snape wasn't his lover, a voice in his mind pointed out rather sharply. But it didn't matter. Harry had to make sure Snape enjoyed it.

Instead of going straight in for the obvious, as he had done last night, Harry opted for a bit of exploration of all that lovely pale skin. It didn't matter why he liked it, only that he did. And he wanted to taste as much of it as he could.

After a time, Snape made an incoherent whinny sound, conveying his displeasure quite clearly. Harry smiled against his skin. "Soon."

"Now."

"No."

"Potter," Snape ground out through his gritted teeth.

Harry had never had anyone say his name in quite that frustrated, aroused, and pleading a tone before. It sent a shiver of delight through him. He nudged Snape over onto his belly.

"Finally," Snape said, spreading his legs slightly and pressing himself into the bedding. "Get to it."

"Soon," Harry promised again. He wasn't quite ready for the main event yet. Relaxing Snape would go a long way toward making things more pleasurable. Leaning forward, he kissed one of the twin dimples in the small of Snape's back. Snape would probably hex him into next week if he told him that they were utterly adorable, not to mention totally lickable.

He licked along each dimple and Snape squirmed nicely.

"What are you doing?" Snape didn't sound as if he minded, though.

Harry didn't bother to answer him. He spread Snape wide and ran his tongue down from the top of his crease to the bottom.

Snape made a satisfyingly strangled sound and Harry did it again, taking his time.

"Merlin! What are you doing?" Snape sounded out of breath, as if he'd run for miles. That pleased Harry no end. Maybe there was a hope in hell of this working after all.

"I think that's self-evident." Harry repeated the move another time, but instead of pulling back from it, he concentrated on the center, licking and sucking and nipping.

The sounds Snape was making were lovely. They spilled pleasantly across Harry's nerves and egged him on to further, deeper explorations. Snape didn't seem to mind, either.

When Harry was pretty sure Snape was about to come, he pulled back.

"Don't you dare stop, you imbecile," Snape snarled, looking back at him over his shoulder, his eyes flashing.

"Not stopping. Just moving on. Accio lubricant." Harry caught it when it came across the bed.

"I'd much rather you --" Snape stopped and subsided back to the bed.

Maybe he should have let Snape come that way. Too late now. Harry opened the jar, and slicked his fingers.

Snape moved with him as he used his fingers. Harry thought he was enjoying it more than last night. The third finger caused a grunt that Harry recognized as displeasure, but he was pleased to be able to turn it into a moan as he worked it for a bit.

When he sank into Snape, it was all white heat and lovely tightness. He paused to let Snape get his breath back.

"It is still quite painful." Snape's tone was more than a little irritated.

Harry pulled him to all fours. That might make it easier.

"I dislike this position." Snape made no move to pull away. "I am not a brood mare."

Harry couldn't help the snort he gave. "You're not. I'm trying to find a comfortable position for you."

"This will never be comfortable." Snape breathed out loudly and then seemed to relax around him. "Proceed."

Cautiously, Harry moved out a little and then back in. He repeated the move with a slight change in angle. Nothing. Trying it again, and again, he didn't get a response. Harry had to admit he was starting to get a bit frustrated. He reached around and took hold of Snape with a still-slick hand, pumping in time with his thrusts, trying to change the angle slightly after each one.

Finally, Snape gasped. "There."

"Good." Harry nailed it again and was pleased to feel Snape shudder.

"Yes. Again. Harder damn it!" Snape pushed back into his thrusts. "Again!"

Harry was only too happy to oblige him. It felt wonderful to slide in and out of the heat of Snape's body. Having Snape respond so well to it added another dimension to Harry's pleasure.

As he felt the sensations start to crest, Harry remembered to incant the spell. Vaguely, he noticed that it felt stronger than it had last night. He barely got all the words out before his orgasm hit, sending pure pleasure exploding through him. Even nearly insensible with it, Harry managed not to collapse on Snape's back.

He tried to move past Ron and go up the stairs. But he wasn't surprised when Ron sat up, none of them slept very deeply anymore.

"Did it go any better tonight?" Ron asked around a yawn.

"Some. I think he enjoyed it more. He--" Harry stopped short, realizing that he could not tell Ron that Snape had been much noisier. He knew Ron was good at keeping secrets, but that was simply too much information.

"Yeah, I get it." Ron seemed to know where the line was. He blushed. "How about you?"

"What about me?" Harry didn't want to get into that, no talking now. "I'm fine."

Ron peered at him across the dim room. "Are you? You look...I don't know...like you're about to jump out of your skin."

That actually wasn't a bad way to describe how Harry was feeling. "Want to go for a broom ride?"

Ron blinked, but did not miss a beat. "Sure. Let me get my cloak." He transfigured his pajamas into something warmer and ran up the stairs, returning with both of their cloaks.

The night was cold, especially for the spring. Harry soared above the pitch, leaving Ron far behind and then diving down, pulling up just short of the ground.

"You're going to miss one day," Ron said, laughing, his cheeks red with the cold.

"No. I won't." Right now, with adrenalin singing in his veins, Harry felt like he could do anything.

"Of course not." Ron zoomed away, clearly inviting him to give chase. A challenge Harry could not ignore.

He sped after Ron, flying hard, the wind in his face. After a while, Ron turned it around and chased Harry. They switched back and forth, chasing each other around the pitch until Harry was exhausted and called a halt. It had been a long day and now he might actually sleep. Wearily, they trudged back to the castle.

Snape stood in the doorway. Both he and Ron froze.

"Do you have an explanation for being out at this hour?" Snape's tone said there was no mercy to be had.

Not that either of them expected it. This was so typically Snape.

"No sir, no excuse." Ron attempted to look contrite, but Harry could have told him that he just couldn't carry it off the way he used to do. And it never worked with Snape, anyway.

"I couldn't sleep," Harry said, infusing a note of challenge in his tone. "We went for a ride."

Snape stared at them for a moment more. "Five points from each of you. Now get to bed." He stalked away, leaving both Harry and Ron with their mouths hanging open.

"Okay, so that was truly bizarre." Ron looked after Snape. "I wonder --"

"Don't say it. Please, Ron. Just don't." Harry didn't want to speculate. There were too many problems inherent with that.

"He could have taken fifty points, if he'd wanted." Ron looked back at Harry. "Or he could have simply not let us see him."

"I think he was making a point. Trouble is, I think I missed it." Harry hated Snape sometimes. Most times. Except when he was making love. Having sex, Harry corrected.

"Harry?" Ron sounded worried.

"I'm just tired." Which was true as far as it went. Mostly he just wanted Ron to be reassured that he was okay. And he was. For the moment.

"Will you sleep?"

"I hope so. It's nearly morning and I have to see him right after lunch."

"Merlin, don't you see him enough already?" Ron when through the door.

"Clearly not." Harry followed him back to the dorm.

Part 3

"I do not expect a repeat of last night," Snape said as Harry came into his office so that they could practice control.

Harry blushed. He had wondered if Snape were going to say anything about that. "I didn't think you wanted to talk about --"

"Not that, you foolish boy! Your late night flying escapade with Weasley." Snape's face was red.

"Oh." Harry blushed harder.

"Why were you out there?" Snape's tone had changed slightly.

"I needed something to calm my nerves."

Snape paused, clearly considering whether or not he actually wanted to ask the obvious question. "Why were you nervous?"

"Not nervous, exactly. More jittery. I couldn't sleep." Harry was not sure how he felt that Snape had bothered to ask. It wasn't as if he cared one way or another.

"You could not think of anything less dangerous than flying at break-neck speeds?"

"Afraid I'll hurt myself?" Harry asked, knowing Snape really could not care less.

"I would not have you dead before you've killed the Dark Lord."

"Thanks ever so much. It's nice to know my worth is measured in how well I can kill someone."

"Don't expect sympathy from me, Potter. You asked, I answered. Now, let's begin." Snape's tone was dismissive as he drew out his wand.

"How do I do this?" Harry didn't understand why Snape wanted to make things more difficult than they had to be. Why did he have to make Harry ask for things Snape should just tell him?

"The same way you do any other charm or spell. You should find that things come easier and that you require less concentration." Snape turned his palm up. "Accio Snape's hairbrush." The brush appeared in his hand.

"So?" Harry didn't get it. A forth year could do that.

"So. You will try it," Snape said, as if he were talking to a dimwitted first year.

"You want me to retrieve your hairbrush?

Snape sucked in a breath. "No, you imbecile, retrieve something of your own."

Harry visualized his trunk, and then his comb lying on top. "Accio Harry's comb." It didn't take as long as it normally would have, but it wasn't as quick as when Snape did it.

"Now concentrate on moving it back. Use the Revertuo charm." Snape looked at the brush and said "Revertuo." The brush disappeared.

"Revertuo," Harry said obligingly. Nothing happened. It just figured he'd suck at this.

"Concentrate." Snape's tone was hard as if Harry were not doing this right on purpose.

Harry glared at the comb. "Revertuo." It did disappear. Not only that, Harry had the faint impression that it had appeared back in his trunk where it belonged. "Wow."

"Exactly. Even with your power, you should not have had the control to send it back for another year or two."

"How do I learn all of this stuff? I mean, once I leave school?"

Snape sneered at him. "Simply because you leave school does not mean you cease to learn anything. Most people continue to learn the charms and spells they need in life by living it."

"With no one to teach them? Wouldn't it be so much harder that way?"

"Most people don't require additional assistance. They learn to think for themselves." Snape sighed a long-suffering teacher type sigh. "Call the comb again."

Harry did as he was told and it came more quickly this time. And returned more quickly as well. He liked the feel of his magic doing what he wanted, when he wanted it.

They worked on a few simple spells and charms, basic stuff and then Snape called a halt.

"I don't want to stop," Harry said. "This is interesting. I like how it feels to be in control of everything."

"If you exhaust yourself you will sleep through tonight's requirements."

"I feel fine," Harry argued. But even as he said it, he yawned and realized he was tired.

Harry also realized that aside from a few insults, Snape hadn't yelled at him at all. Maybe it was because Harry had been able to do everything that Snape had asked of him on the first or second try.

Dinner passed too quickly, and all too soon Snape was facing the door to the Room of Requirement. He paused, telling himself the pounding of his heart was something other than anticipation.

Against all odds, Potter had turned out to be both skilled and generous. Snape would never consider him a lover, but he also didn't feel as if he were being used, which, knowing Potter as he did, was what he expected.

That Potter was a man...boy... hadn't mattered at all to his body. That was more disconcerting than the fact that Potter had obviously enjoyed giving pleasure as much as he enjoyed receiving it.

It was too much too think about now. When it was over, when Potter had killed the Dark Lord and freed Snape, then he could consider the implications of it.

Right now, all he truly wanted was to get through the next few hours and then the next few days. Beyond that, he was not going to push his luck.

Potter was standing in the middle of the room when Snape entered it. For one second, he seemed surprised to see Snape. Then he smiled tentatively. "When I got here and you weren't here, I thought you might have changed your mind."

"Highly unlikely." For more reasons than Potter would ever know or understand. Still, Snape could not make himself approach Potter. He stopped beside the fireplace, ostensibly to stoke the fire.

The smile on Potter's face did not wane as he stepped closer, reaching out to take Snape's hand. He was pulled into Potter's arms, and kissed soundly.

Snape closed his eyes, letting the kiss move him where Potter wanted him to go. Giving in was the only answer, and he knew it. He had no more fight left in him, if he'd ever had any to start with.

Surrendering to the inevitable, he toed off his boots and then stood still. As his clothes fell away under Potter's fingers, Snape ignored the state they would be in when he retrieved them, in favor of letting himself drift on the sensations of Potter's mouth and hands on his skin.

Naked, he was pressed back to sit on the bed, Potter kneeling between his spread thighs. The sensations Potter's mouth evoked roared through him until there was nothing else in the world save that feel and that touch.

His legs were pushed forward to his chest, and he closed his eyes. He could feel Potter's fingers exploring gently, but instead of making him ready, as he'd expected, they spread him open once again and Potter's extraordinary mouth did things to him that no one had ever done. Things that he'd only half-believed people did to each other. Things that sent him flying.

Sweet Merlin, he'd never felt the like. Had never believed such pleasure could be his. That it was Potter doing this to him seemed beyond anything he'd expected or conceived of when he'd agreed to this. But there he was, with his tongue stabbing into Snape, and Snape knew all he could do was be grateful.

"Oh, please," Snape begged, not caring, only needing more. "Please."

For a long time, Potter continued, until Snape was on the precipice, ready to do anything he asked to have him continue. Potter's fingers worked into him, slowly, slickly, around his tongue and then replacing it. Surprisingly, those fingers, when crooked just right, could give him incredible pleasure.

"Ugh..." Snape said, bliss washing over him. "Please." Wishing with what little brain cells were still working that he didn't sound so needy, so pathetic.

It still hurt when Potter sank into him, but the boy had learned his stroke and with a thrust or two, Snape was sailing on the pleasure again. Thought fled in favor of sensation after sensation washing through him. He surrendered to the pleasure that built inside him. It wasn't going to last long, he knew it, but for the moments he could hold it, he would savor it. It was marvelous.

Without Potter ever touching him beyond where they were joined, Snape climaxed, shouting out in surprise as ecstasy moved through him. Potter continued to move on him, evoking little shock waves as he said the spell. Almost as soon as he'd gasped them out, Potter made a strangled sound and plunged into him one more time, then stiffened.

The euphoria of the moment was quick to fade, and Snape was left with a vague feeling of unease. It was less than the previous two nights, but still there. He wasn't sure how to address it, and speaking to Potter now was not something he cared to do.

Potter moved beside him. They hadn't made it all the way onto the bed. Snape lay on his back, with his legs off the bed. Potter was sitting up next to him.

Before he could give into the desire to close his eyes and doze, Snape sat up.

"That was good," Potter said, his expression lacking any emotion.

It was. Snape couldn't find it in himself to say so. There was too much emotion running through him to discuss it with Potter. He grunted in response.

"Are you going back to your rooms now?" Potter asked.

Why what he did mattered to Potter, Snape would never know or care. "Yes." He stood and reached for his clothes.

"Pretty soon, we'll be on the floor," Potter said, out of the blue.

Buttoning his shirt, Snape pointed out, "It won't be that many more times."

"I expect not." Why did Potter sound nearly disappointed? Pleasant though it was, surely this could not mean more to him than a means to an end.

"It's not as if we are lovers." Snape picked up this cloak, and shook the wrinkles out of it.

Potter's face turned red. "No. Of course not. But --"

"Do not think of this as more than it is, Potter. I do not want you to forget that this has a purpose."

"If I do, I'm sure you'll remind me," Potter snapped, finally reaching for his own clothes.

"With pleasure." Snape really did not want to get into this now. He put his cloak around his shoulders. "Go back to your dorm."

Dressed, Potter strode to the door. "I'm gone."

"Practice your control, I will test you tomorrow after lunch," Snape said as Potter stepped out.

"Right." Potter closed the door behind him with a thunk.

The room suddenly felt empty. Snape sighed.

When Harry got back to the common room, he was literally shaking with tension. He felt like he had to move, to do something, to expend some of the excess energy that was flowing through him. It was worse than the previous night.

Ron was asleep on the sofa, but he wasn't alone. Hermione was curled next to him, her head on his shoulder. They looked like lovers. But they weren't. Not any more. Harry didn't quite understand how they had managed to stay so close after last summer. But really, he was just glad it was all of them together again. He'd never have said anything to either of them, but he'd been afraid of being left behind as Hermione and Ron had grown closer.

He smiled. If he wanted to, he could join them, and one or both of them would pull him into their arms and hold him close.

The thought of being held by anyone didn't appeal right now. He wanted to run or fly or dance or something, anything. As the portrait snicked quietly closed, both Ron and Hermione woke up.

Harry," Hermione said, looking at him and then sitting up. "How are you feeling?"

"Jittery." He knew that he could not hide anything from her. "Why are you back?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I guess..."

Despite the way he was feeling, he could see she needed to talk about it. He moved across the room to kneel in front of her. "What's wrong?"

She sighed and leaned into Ron a bit. He put an arm around her shoulders. Harry took her hand. "Tell us," Harry ordered.

"They expect me to be more...Muggle than I am. I want to please them. They are my parents, but I can't. And the gap between us is growing as I get older." Her sigh was sad.

"Did something happen?" Ron asked, rubbing her arm.

"They try to be supportive, but they also have these unrealistic expectations." She looked at Harry with a dejected look. "They want me to go to Muggle university. We had a big row about it. They don't feel the Ministry apprentice program is good enough for me."

"It's one of the hardest apprentice programs to qualify for. You've qualified for all of the programs you've applied to. That's practically unheard of. You have your pick of careers." Ron sounded incensed.

Harry could understand that. "He's right. Why do they think you've not done well?"

"They want me to have a Muggle education to -- how did they put it -- fall back on should anything happen here." She shook her head. "I don't think they realize there is no coming back. That this is my life. There are no other options."

"You've tried to explain that?" Harry had heard other Muggle-born students tell similar stories.

"I don't think there is any way for them to understand. I don't think they want to." Hermione sounded so upset that Harry's heart went out to her.

"I'm sorry," Ron said with sympathy.

"Me, too." Harry put his other hand on her knee and squeezed.

"Thanks. Now tell me about..." she trailed off, not needing to finish it.

"We were talking about you." Harry didn't want to talk about Snape. It was too...intimate, too close to him right now.

Not that that ever stopped Hermione. "Really, Harry. Nothing is more important than this. Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm..." Harry didn't even know where to begin. It was all so muddled now. "I feel...like I've got too much energy."

Ron put a hand on his shoulder. "Like last night? We can fly if you'd like. If you think that would help you sleep?"

"Snape said not to." God, that sounded lame coming out of his mouth.

"And you're going to listen to him?" Ron's tone could not have been more incredulous.

"He'll take a lot of points, if he told you specifically." Hermione's expression said she'd chance it if they wanted to.

"Do you reckon this is part of the spell?" Ron looked concerned.

Her brow creased, and Hermione nodded. "You know, that does make sense."

"How?" Worry started to creep into the tension inside him. Harry had some small amount of hope that it was just nervous energy from the stress of what was going on with Snape.

"Your power is being released all at once rather than gradually, as it would be if you had grown into it. Even though you have Snape's control, you still have extra power running through you." Hermione seemed nervous, as if she weren't sure about it.

That made Harry nervous, too. He knew he had more power than Snape had control and there was some part of him that was scared to death. "What happens to the power once the control is gone?" Harry thought perhaps he should have asked that question before he started the whole thing.

"I think...er...hope, it's going to revert back to its dormant state." Hermione didn't seem as if she were sure about that.

"Do you need more than that?" Harry asked. The doubt in her voice was increasing his concern.

"Not usually for a spell. I just think the books should have mentioned that you'd feel like this. You still have two nights to go, it's likely to get worse."

Harry could feel the power surging through him, making him feel as like he were going to fly apart any second. "Maybe we should look into this further."

Hermione nodded. "First thing in the morning, I'll see what I can find."

"I can't sleep like this." Harry looked down at his hands expecting them to be shaking and was surprised to find them steady.

"Let's go fly and see if we can burn some of it off." Ron stood up, clearly ready to disobey any rule at a moment's notice.

"Dueling might work better. Not to mention not disobeying Professor Snape," Hermione suggested.

"Who isn't likely to be in a good mood tonight," Ron said, standing at the base of the stairs.

"I'd rather fly it off. I can't concentrate to duel." He was pretty sure he didn't have the concentration for anything more than riding very fast.

"Good enough. I'll go up and get our cloaks." Ron went up the stairs.

"I'll come along, too. I can try and explain to Professor Snape if he stops us."

"I don't think Prefect status is going to help you much with him," Harry said, grateful for her support, even if it wasn't going to do much good with Snape.

"Probably not, but it's worth a shot." She didn't seem to think she'd be of much help, either.

Snape glanced out of the third floor window as he made his late night rounds and saw someone moving out over the Quidditch pitch.

Potter.

He should not be so surprised that the recalcitrant fool had disobeyed him, but he was. Furious, he stalked down the stairs and towards the side entrance, gleefully counting the number of points he could deduct for this. Oh, he knew that the Headmistress would not let him take an overly excessive amount of points, say more than fifty, without giving great numbers of them back.

Interfering tabby, Snape thought. At least, he'd get some satisfaction for that many. Put the boy in his place, too.

As he silently approached, he saw that both Granger and Weasley had accompanied Potter in his little escapade. More to the good, he thought, adding twenty-five more to the total.

Granger seemed to sense him and she looked up just as he came abreast of her.

"Would you care to explain, Miss Granger, why you are out in the middle of the night?" Snape deliberately kept his voice low and soft with menace.

"Harry isn't reacting well --"

He didn't care why they were outside, and he didn't want to hear the excuse. "That doesn't explain why you are out here. I explicitly told Potter not to be out after curfew."

"As I tried to say --"

"There is no excuse for such blatant disobedience. You shall all be severely punished." Snape let a bit of his glee and anticipation gather in his tone. Let her know he was going to enjoy taking them down.

"No sir. But --"

"No buts, Miss Granger. You are in serious trouble."

"Yes sir." She squared her shoulders. That was never a good sign with a Gryffindor. "Take as many points as you want, but please just let me explain. Listen to me for one minute."

Snape decided it was worth a moment of his time. "And how many points might that minute be worth to you?"

She looked at him as if she couldn't believe he'd said it and then her look turned as calculating as any Slytherin he'd ever known. "How about half a point per second?"

"How about a whole point per second?"

"Sixty points." She considered it for a moment. "Done."

It was like taking candy from a baby, without the noise. "Do you speak for Potter and Weasley as well?"

"I do." There was no hesitation whatsoever in her reply. He had to admire that kind of loyalty. In theory.

If she were that desperate, he should probably listen without the points, but they were too sweetly won. It would also be so much more amusing when whatever she had to say failed to move him. He pulled his wand and conjured an hour glass with one minute left. "Speak. You have one minute."

"Harry is coming into his power too fast --"

"That was the point of this whole exercise wasn't it?"

"Please don't interrupt me. I only have one minute and I'm going to need every second of it. And it's costing me dearly."

"Ten points for your impertinence."

"Start the clock again." She glared at him. "Please."

For some reason, he did as she asked, spelling it done and then turning the clock over again.

"He shouldn't be feeling the power rushing through him the way he does. He shouldn't be so ill at ease. The spell should not be having such an obvious effect. He should have more control, not less. I think that your control is less than his potential power and this is the bleed off. We need to do something to help him. Please. Can you help us? I don't know what will happen if he's got more power then he can control."

She took a breath. "The books said that the power would revert back when the control was not there. If it's not happening as he gets the power with the control he had through you then what is going to happen when he loses the control altogether?"

"You trusted what you read without substantiating it?" Snape shouldn't need to tell her that was not always the wisest research practices.

She shrugged, looking down. "I knew that it didn't make sense that the power would revert. But the books both said it would. I had no choice. I only had the two references for this spell. Both of them seemed to say the same thing."

"Seemed, Miss Granger. Very sloppy research. I should take points for that, especially for having involved me in this as well."

"Where exactly was I to find more references on obscure sex magic? I have no access to any private libraries. The public ones are worthless." She put her hands on her hips and gave him a completely exasperated look.

"I see."

"You know, you're involved with this, too. Why didn't you research it?"

She was right of course. Before he could think better of it, he said, "I haven't had time." Depressingly, it was the truth as well. Between the Order, his teaching responsibilities, as well as dancing attendance on the Dark Lord, there wasn't time for anything else. He'd read what had been put in front of him, and had been desperate enough to believe it.

"You agreed to have sex with Harry, something I understand that you did not want to do, but you don't have time to research the spell that you're both using? In other words, you trusted me, a Muggle born, to find what I found without questioning it." She smiled at that. "Even I'm not that gullible.

"Ten more points for that impertinence." Even without her ever knowing, he hated to admit she was right. Given the situation in the world today, he had jumped at the chance to give Potter the control he needed to kill the Dark Lord, completely ignoring how that would happen and what the consequences might be. What a fool he was.

Granger didn't even wince. "I owled every bookseller in every wizarding bookstore in all of Britain for more texts on the subject in general, but there were none to be had."

"I have an extensive library."

She tilted her head toward him, her expression deliciously hopeful. "You'd let me look through it?"

"Certainly not." Dashing her hopes was not nearly so much fun as he'd expected it to be. He surprised himself when he added, "Not without a very good reason, anyway."

"Is Harry's life a sufficiently good reason?" Granger looked up as both Weasley and Potter came towards them, brooms in hand, their faces resigned.

Snape looked at the three of them, hating them, and knowing he was dependant on them in one degree or another for the one thing he wanted in this life: freedom from the bondage he'd inflicted upon himself when he'd been too stupid and too ambitious to know any better. When he'd been their age. The irony was not lost on him.

"Tomorrow morning." He started to walk away, but turned back, smirking. "Oh, and Miss Granger?"

"Yes sir?"

"Fifty points."

"Yes sir." She nodded, unsurprised and unresenting.

Snape walked away, wondering once again what he'd got himself into.

"Want to tell us what just happened?" Harry asked, watching Snape walk away in all his robe-flaring glory.

"Yeah. I get the feeling we missed something major." Ron looked after Snape, shaking his head.

"He's going to let me look at his library of sex magic books." Hermione sounded thoughtful, or maybe just anticipatory.

"You know that doesn't sound like something I'd want to do with him." Ron's expression was somewhere between a leer and horrified.

"Ron, you should grow up." Hermione gave him a scolding look.

He simply laughed. "As if."

"Why didn't he think of this before we started the spell?" Despite the relatively warm weather, a cold chill went down Harry's spine. Snape wasn't one to leave things half-done, neither was Hermione.

"For the same reason I didn't. I wasn't given a lot of time, and I trusted the books I'd found that supported the spell. There was nothing about side effects at all."

"Why are you doing this now?" Ron asked, and it was clear what he thought.

"We didn't realize there would be side effects. But really, why would we consider it?" Hermione looked at Harry and Harry shivered.

"Harry is a lot more powerful than most wizards. Are you saying that you didn't take that into account?" Ron's tone was not quite accusatory.

"It shouldn't have mattered because once the means to control it was gone, the power would fade. So, no, I didn't take into account the potential of Harry's power."

"Do you think I should continue? I mean, with Snape, and the spell?" Harry fought hard not to blush at the thought of what he'd been doing with Snape.

"I think you're going to have to. You need to gain full control."

"What about my power?" Harry yawned, nothing like an hour or two of fast flying to exhaust him enough to sleep. The idea that he might have to do it for the rest of his life scared him pissless.

"It's going to be there. That's why you have to continue."

"That doesn't follow. What's going to happen after the spell?" Ron asked, holding the side door open for Harry and Hermione.

"I don't think Harry's power, once fully awakened, will go back to sleep," Hermione said, and her voice wobbled a bit as she did so.

"Which leaves me where?" Harry had a feeling it would be no place he wanted to be and from the look on Hermione's face, she thought the same thing.

"In trouble," Ron said, confirming it.

After that, they were silent. The stairs cooperated and deposited them right outside the common room.

"What should I do?" Shivering, Harry sat down in front of the fire and flicked his wand at it. It roared to life.

Ron laughed nervously, but said nothing.

"I'm going to see Professor Snape, first thing in the morning." Hermione sat down next to him. "I think it will be okay."

"At least I don't have to see him." Ron's face lit with pleasure. "I don't have anything to do for the rest of the holiday."

"Except your homework." It was not something she had ever taken for granted, but now after coming back to school so late, she never let them slack off at all.

Harry was very grateful to all the teachers who had set up extra classes and helped them catch up. He knew that there was more to life than studying.

Ron's shoulders slumped. "Spoil sport."

"Ron. We're still all behind, even with all the extra help we've got from everyone. You do want to pass, don't you?" Hermione had not been nearly so far behind as he and Ron had been. But it had become her goal in life to see that they passed their classes as well as their NEWTs.

And Harry was grateful for that too since he was fairly sure that he would not even be close to passing without her dedicated effort.

"Fine." Ron sat on Harry's other side. "You know we're with you on this."

Harry nodded, his chest too tight to speak for a moment. "Thanks. I would have thought you'd go ballistic about the whole sleeping with Snape thing."

"Given some of the other things we've done...." Ron trailed off. His tone acknowledged that there was no innocence left in any of them.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Sleeping with Snape is pretty minor, isn't it?" Tracking down the remaining Horcruxes had taken time and effort. Snape's position with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, while not as good as Dumbledore had hoped when he'd staged his death, was good enough to assure Voldemort that Harry, Ron and Hermione had returned to school defeated, having failed to complete their mission.

"It's not something I would be able to do, even to defeat You-Know-Who, but if you can, then I've got to support you in any way that I can."

"That's very mature of you," Hermione said, approvingly.

"I thought so." Ron beamed at her. "Just don't tell me you're enjoying it, even if you are."

"I have to enjoy it --"

Ron screwed his face up in a horrified expression. "Harry really, no details. Please." Then, he sobered and looked at Harry. "Unless you need to talk about it."

Harry shook his head. "That's the only part of this that actually works right."

"Sorry mate, I can't imagine it. And I don't want to." Ron's laugh was nervous.

"I think I can sleep now. Let's go up." Harry stood, and stretched. "You know, I just thought of something. I haven't had a nightmare since all of this started."

"What do you suppose that means?" Ron looked at Hermione.

"I have no idea," she said. "But I hope it keeps up."

"Me too." Harry started up the stairs.

Part 4

Snape was barely back from breakfast and that eager little Gryffindor know-it-all was standing at his door.

"Miss Granger." Against his better judgment, Snape opened the door wide enough for her to pass through.

"Sir," she said, wholly uncowed by him. She'd grown up enough not to care what he thought of her, and he resented his loss of control rather bitterly.

"The books you require are there." He pointed to a stack of twenty or so volumes piled on the low sofa table. "You may not leave with any of them. You may not move from that spot to any other part of my quarters."

"Yes, sir." Her eyes were wide as she took in his quarters.

He wondered what she'd been expecting to look so surprised. "What is your problem, girl?"

"It's nice."

"Did you think that it would be otherwise?" He phrased it as a question, but it was one she knew better than to answer.

"No, sir." She looked down, clearly trying to hide her blush.

This annoyed him even more. "Sit."

He cast a circle in a wide arc around her and the books. "If you move beyond the circle, for any reason, I will know it. I shall return in a few hours."

She looked like she might say something, but then clearly thought better of it. Surprisingly wise for a Gryffindor. "Yes sir. And thank you."

Snape knew what she was thinking. "Why no, Miss Granger, I do not trust you at all."

Granger scowled at him, but thankfully said nothing more.

When he returned two hours later, she had not moved.

"How long has it been? I feel as if I've just started. I've barely got through the first couple of books and not in any depth." She pointed to the stack on the floor. "I don't suppose --"

"No. I will not allow them out of my rooms. Have you found anything?"

Granger sighed. "I'm more concerned than ever."

"So, you've found nothing concrete?"

"No. Just some vague reference to control and the need to maintain it once the spell has been established."

"And what do you take that to mean?"

"Any number of things. It could mean that once the spell is cast there is simply a need to maintain control over the power. Or it could mean that Harry might have more power than he could control without you."

Snape shuddered at the very thought. He sincerely hoped she was wrong. "Are you saying you think that once released Potter's power might not recede?"

"I could be wrong." Her inflection fairly begged for contradiction, even as her expression indicated that she did not think she was wrong. That she was terrified she was right. "I can't believe we did this to Harry."

"We need Potter to defeat the Dark Lord, sooner rather than later."

"How do we fix it?" she asked, sounding as if there should be a way to make it all better simply because she believed it should be so. Foolish Gryffindor.

"That of course, is the question of the hour, isn't it?" Snape needed to think this through and weigh out his options. He looked at Granger, her eyes big with worry, and sneered, "Get out."

She paled and pointed at the stack. "I need to--"

"You need to learn obedience. Do as I've said."

"I need --"

Snape's temper snapped. "Ten points for your insolence. You will leave my quarters at once. I will brook no disrespect from you here," he yelled.

She looked up at him, completely without fear. Snape fondly remembered the days when she'd cry when he took points from Gryffindor.

"Please, sir," she said, her voice low and soft with just a hint of desperation. "Let me finish. I'm worried about Harry. And you, too."

He supposed she had a point. "You beg so nicely, Miss Granger. One who didn't know you well might be fooled by it. Indeed, I'll wager you fool many of your teachers."

Her eyes flashed before she lowered them. "Yes, sir."

"You may return after lunch, if you wish." He smirked at her surprised look. Well, he didn't have time to do the research, especially not if he had to work with Potter this afternoon on top of everything else.

"Yes, sir." She finally left.

"It will be okay. Professor Snape said I could come back this afternoon. I need help." Her voice was modulated to sound reasonable and reassuring.

Except that Harry knew Snape and he knew that he wasn't ever going to be reasonable. Not about anything.

"I'm not sure what good I'm going to be. It's not like I know what I'm looking for." Ron's tone had a distinct whine of displeasure. He'd been talked into helping Hermione and it was clear he'd rather be anywhere else.

"At least you don't have to spend the afternoon with him." Harry had a bad feeling about what was going to happen. Working with Snape had a tendency to be bad for his health, either mental or physical.

"There's always the evening, too," Ron added oh so helpfully.

Harry was trying hard not to think about what was going to happen tonight and tomorrow night. And even less about what was going to happen when the spell was set. That scared him more than anything else.

"Helping me will get us through the books faster, and maybe we'll be quicker to find something that will help Harry."

"That is the only reason I'm doing this at all. Because spending the afternoon in Snape's quarters looking through his dusty sex magic books is really not the way I wanted to waste my time."

"I'm hoping it won't be a waste of time." Hermione sounded like she really believed she might find something. Harry hoped so, for all of their sakes.

They stopped in front of Snape's door.

"I'm not sure how long my patience is going to hold out, even for Harry's sake."

But Harry knew that Ron would do what he had to do, just like they all would. He raised his hand and knocked.

When Snape answered the door, his expression was thunderous. "What are you doing here?"

Ron gulped, but straightened up to his full height, which was taller than Snape. "I'm going to help Hermione with her research."

"Are you? I hadn't realized you'd learned to read well enough to be useful." Snape smiled his ugly smile.

Harry put a hand on Ron's arm and squeezed it, hard. "Don't," he whispered.

Ron took an audible breath. "We'll be out of your gre--"

Harry squeezed again.

"Your hair, sooner, if you let me help Hermione."

Snape did not look like that pleased him, indeed he looked like he was ready to explode, but he, too, seemed to rein it back. He moved to allow them to come into the room. "Same rules apply."

Harry looked around, surprised to see how pleasant the room was. Bookcases lined the walls and gave the room a faint musty smell of old paper. There was a large fireplace with a low wooden table and a comfortable-looking sofa in front of it. Two leather winged-back chairs sat on either side of the sofa.

"Yes, sir." Hermione sounded respectful enough to mollify him. Harry admired that she could pull it off. She'd mock Snape with them and then turn around and be so deferential. He supposed it was a gift. One that might be useful to acquire.

"Sit." Snape pointed to the sofa. "Both of you."

For one more second, Ron looked like he might like to fight, but then he seemed to think better of it. "Yes, sir," he said through his teeth.

Snape cast some kind of circle around them and then turned to Harry. "Let's go."

"See you later," Harry said as he started to move towards the door.

Ron gave him a sympathetic look and made a show of picking up one of the books.

"Watch how you handle my books, boy! I won't have them damaged by your ham-handedness." Snape's eyes flashed with fury.

Somehow, Ron managed to swallow back whatever he was going to say. "Yes, sir."

Snape huffed and walked out, clearly expecting Harry to follow.

"You don't have to treat them that way. They are helping you, too." Enraged, Harry didn't care what he said. Snape was being such a bastard. Why couldn't he treat anyone fairly? Stupid question, said a voice in his head that sounded like Snape. Snape was unfair. That was a fact of life.

"They are helping you. That it aids me as well is only an afterthought." It was interesting that there was such a note of bitterness in that. Harry would not have thought Snape gave a damn one way or another.

"Still, you're benefiting," Harry pointed out.

"That is the only reason I'm allowing this...intrusion on my life."

Harry wasn't going to argue with him. It was useless, and he'd end up in detention for life if he said what he thought. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

Snape's look said he was an idiot and should know already.

Which wasn't fair as far as Harry could see. He had no idea what he could do with the new power and frankly, it scared him.

"Legilimens!" Snape pushed his way into Harry's mind, sifting through his surface thoughts without a care.

Harry watched him see the conversation with Ron and Hermione last night. And he tried to pull back, but Snape held him firm. Rage rose in him and he pushed back, hard, putting what power he could muster into it.

He slid deep into Snape's mind like a knife through warm butter. There was no resistance. Or perhaps there was, but it was insignificant and useless.

Snape's emotions and feelings assaulted him. There was too much coming at Harry too fast. He couldn't process it. He saw his father, and Sirius tormenting Snape. Why was he still thinking about that? He saw himself and wanted to blush as the memories of the previous nights were replayed. He saw glimpses of Snape's unhappy childhood, surprised that the abuse rivaled his own with the Dursleys. He saw Snape trying to protect his mother and felt his hatred for his Muggle father. He saw the house Snape lived in and was surprised to see how much Snape loved the dilapidated place.

Sinking further into Snape's mind, Harry found his devastation over what happened last year with Dumbledore. He saw Snape crouched in a corner of his book-lined sitting room at Spinner's End, alone, crying miserably, hating himself for having done it, even as he knew it had needed to be done.

Harry pulled back; he had known that Snape hadn't wanted to do it, had railed against it, in fact. But seeing what it had done to Snape stunned Harry. He'd never considered Snape's feelings in any of it.

Dimly, Harry heard Snape screaming for him to get out of his mind, pushing ineffectually at his presence. As gently as he could, Harry withdrew.

As he let go, Snape sank to his knees, panting. "Clearly, that was a mistake." Snape's tone was wry.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Whatever he felt for Snape, he would not cause him more pain.

"You did not." Snape climbed slowly to his feet and regarded Harry seriously. "However, you could have torn my mind apart."

"Oh, God." Harry put his face in his hands.

"You have an increasing amount of power at your disposal." Was that a note of fear in Snape's voice? Harry could not credit it, but maybe he did have more power than anyone expected him to have. The idea was terrifying.

"I'm trying to deal with it," Harry snapped. "You're supposed to be helping me." Despite what Snape had said, Harry didn't think he could hurt him. Maybe he had the potential to do so, but he didn't think he could actually do it. Harry didn't want to hurt anyone.

As if in slow motion, Harry saw Snape raise his wand and he knew he was going to cast a painful hex. He didn't question how he knew, but he had his wand out and cried, "Expelliarmus!"

Snape went flying backward with more force than Harry intended. Deadly force. Despite that, Snape landed with a painful thud and then sat up slowly. Harry was more than grateful that he wasn't broken or worse.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, concerned. He came over to where Snape was sitting, and offered his hand to help Snape up.

For a second, it looked like Snape might refuse, but Snape took his and stood. "I think we are done for today." Snape brushed himself off. "Get out."

"What just happened? You should have hit the wall hard enough to do serious damage and you didn't... I didn't consciously pull back."

"I don't know." But he hoped so. The thought that he might hurt someone inadvertently horrified him.

"If I'd gotten that hex off, it would have hurt you." But it didn't seem as though Snape was sorry not to have hurt him.

"Good thing you didn't then," Harry said, smiling.

"Get out." That tone brooked no argument and Harry decided not to chance any more of Snape's ire.

Later that evening, Harry stood outside the Room of Requirement, his trepidation rising with each breath he took. Working with Snape this afternoon had upset him and he'd wanted to discuss it with Ron and Hermione, but they had returned from Snape's quarters quite late in the afternoon. They'd gone to dinner and Harry couldn't find the words to say what he wanted to say. Now, it was time for this.

He wasn't so sure that this was a good idea any more. What if his power didn't revert back after he killed Voldemort? What if he couldn't control it? What would become of him? That thought scared him to death.

"Where have you been, you inconsiderate brat?" Snape barked as soon as Harry was inside the door.

"Eager for me, are you?" Harry could not believe he said it, and not in such a sneering tone. His heart started to pound and he wished he could have taken the calming draught again tonight, but it was addicting. Snape had told him he couldn't use it more than three consecutive nights without a risk.

"Not in the slightest. I find you and this situation completely revolting." Snape sneered at him.

He'd been worried about how he could have hurt Snape this afternoon and now he wondered why he'd even cared. The man was a total bastard. There was some part of Harry that wanted to strike back, but with some effort he bit down on the impulse. It would certainly only make things worse. They had to get through the night. And it was definitely going to be harder tonight.

If he had to be the one who was mature about it then he would be, Harry thought, feeling superior. "Should we even be doing this?"

"Doing what, Potter?"

"This!" Harry waved his hand towards the bed. "The spell."

Surprisingly, Snape closed his eyes and sighed. "I am not certain we could stop at this point, even if we wanted to."

"Which you do, right?"

"Do you think I like sleeping with a student?" Snape yelled, his face red. "Do you think I like letting you fuck me?"

"It seemed like you enjoyed it last night, or did I get the screaming in pleasure part wrong?" That was the wrong thing to say. It was just that he hated it when Snape got all self-righteous. So much for being mature.

Snape's face went purple with rage. "You little brat. Do you really think I want you? Do you think there is any reason other than the Dark Lord's demise that would put me in this situation with anyone, but especially with you?"

Backtrack, Harry thought. He'd stepped over the line. "Look --"

Snape raised his hand as if to slap Harry, but he didn't follow through on it. "No. You selfish little boy, I am here for one reason and one reason alone. So that you --"

"I know, damn it. Don't you think I know that!" Scared and appalled, Harry reached out and took Snape's hand, hoping to keep him from violence. His anger and fear fell away, leaving him a bit surprised, but somehow eager to please Snape. "Did you feel that?"

"What?" Snape raised an eyebrow, but his tone for that one word was considerably milder than it had been.

"As soon as I touched you...."

"Yes. I hadn't noticed it before. How very odd." Snape's forehead furrowed in concentration.

"What is it?" Harry let go of Snape's hand, but his anger did not return. And by the look of him, neither did Snape's.

"It's like the calming draught," Snape said, thoughtfully.

"Is it the spell, do you think?"

"I think it's a spell, but not part of the control spell." But Snape didn't sound sure of that.

"What? What spell?"

"I suspect it's the room."

That didn't make sense to Harry. "How can the room alter our moods?"

Snape's look became sneering. "Think! If we must do this, and we must, then we must have the means to do it. We must not attempt to murder each other as we accomplish our task."

"Then we didn't need the calming draught after all."

"I suspect that we needed all the help we could muster. I'm sure it didn't hurt. I am also certain that it is what it must be. The room ensures our compliance with the spell without interfering with it."

"How do you know it doesn't interfere? Maybe that's what's wrong with me." Harry wasn't hopeful that was the case.

"There are a great many things wrong with you." Snape's tone had lost its bite. He said it more as if it were a joke.

Not that Harry found any of this funny. "We still need to do it."

Snape looked away, and a visible shiver went through his skinny frame.

Harry took his hand again and drew him closer. "I wish --"

"Do not. We shall make the best of it." Snape closed his eyes again and leaned his head on Harry's shoulder.

For a moment, Harry held him. Whatever else he was, Snape felt good in his arms. As a matter of fact, Harry had no trouble admitting that he enjoyed Snape, and enjoyed giving him pleasure. Which might have been odd, given everything else he felt about Snape, but it was true nonetheless.

He raised a hand and slid it into Snape's hair, noticing while it looked greasy, it actually felt pretty clean. Harry decided not to mention this discovery to Snape since he might not appreciate it as much as Harry did. Smiling to himself, Harry leaned up and kissed Snape.

Snape groaned softly, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss.

As it had before, passion ignited between them and soon Harry was falling blissfully into it. He stripped them both quickly, letting their clothes fall away where they would. As he pulled Snape close, holding him, he let his hands roam over Snape's body.

With a moan that sounded like longing, Snape moved closer. Harry's excitement soared. Despite his prediction they might end up on the floor, Harry managed to get them into bed. He ran his hands slowly over Snape's pale skin. What was it that fascinated him, Harry wondered? But soon none of that mattered.

There was something so amazingly satisfying about hearing Snape's pleasure in his touch, hearing him moan so loudly and beg so needily. Harry couldn't deny him anything.

When Harry closed his mouth over Snape's prick, taking him deep into his throat, Snape bucked up, moaning again.

"Please," Snape sobbed, as Harry moved on him, up and down, changing the angle and taking all of him in.

Even though they'd had sex three times in the last three days, Snape came quickly, erupting into Harry's mouth with a lusty moan.

Barely giving him time to take a breath, Harry rolled Snape over and kissed the small of his back. Over the last few nights, he'd learned a lesson or two on what pleased Snape, and he intended to use it to his best advantage. Gently, he spread Snape wide and applied his tongue.

"Sweet Merlin," Snape moaned, pushing into Harry's mouth. "Oh, please."

"I'm going to make you feel so good," Harry said against his flesh, and stabbed his tongue in.

Snape pressed back again, panting. After a bit more, Harry started to work his fingers in as well.

"Harry. Harry. You're going to kill me, you sadistic boy!" The words were panted in a breathless, pleasure filled voice.

They made Harry smile, especially the use of his given name. For some reason, that pleased him most of all. "Do you want me to stop?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"If you do, I shall not be responsible for the consequences to you."

"I'll take that as a no."

"Do that."

Harry gently slid his fingers out, and before Snape could come down from the sensual high he was on, or complain, Harry turned him over again. Taking firm hold of Snape's hips and meeting his eyes, he draped Snape's long legs over his shoulders, and Harry slid in with a sigh.

Heat and constriction and delight surrounded him. Harry had to take several deep breaths or risk humiliating himself completely. Snape felt wonderful beyond words and Harry thought he could spend a good portion of his life buried inside him. After a moment, his body urged him on, and Snape's body easily accepted his thrust.

Ecstasy built around him with each stroke into Snape's warm flesh, each movement where Snape cried out in pleasure. Harry moaned. It was too good to last long.

As he started to come, Harry chanted the spell, feeling the power of it and his own power wash over him along with his orgasm. Harry cried out as pleasure cascaded over him, counterpoint to the lightning that seemed to shock through him at the same time.

When he opened his eyes again, Harry saw Snape watching him with a worried expression on his face.

"What?" Harry asked. "Did something happen?" Aside from earth-shattering sex, he wanted to add, but thought better of it.

Snape shook his head. "How do you feel?"

That was a strange question coming from Snape, but again, it pleased Harry that he had even asked. "I'm okay. But the power thing is worse than yesterday."

"I was afraid of that." Snape sat up.

"I didn't think you cared."

"As I have said, you must live long enough to kill the Dark Lord." Snape left the bed. "Accio Snape's shirt."

Harry sat up too, annoyed that Snape was being Snape. If he felt differently, then why didn't Snape? But it wasn't that he really felt that different. It was just sex, he reminded himself again.

"What is wrong with you, Potter?" Snape's voice was harsh, but lacked its normal malice.

"Nothing. Or...beyond the obvious, you mean?" Harry noticed they were back to Potter, too.

"Then why are you looking at me as if I've kicked you?"

Because it felt that way. "I'm not."

"You are, and I am at a loss as to the cause." Snape was still standing there naked, and Harry had realized he'd never really looked beyond seeing that his skin was so nice.

He looked. Snape was very thin. Beyond that though, his body wasn't bad. It had a rough strength to it. Long muscles wrapped around big sturdy bones. He'd be good in a fight, Harry thought.

"Is there some point to this," Snape asked, sounding irritated, but he had a faint blush on his face.

"No. Sorry." Harry didn't know what to make of what he was feeling and he wished he could ask Snape about it, but Snape would never admit to anything, even if he were feeling it.

"It's just that..." Harry trailed off. What could he say that would make sense? Or that would not sound totally pathetic?

"Do not confuse the false intimacy of what just happened between us with anything else." Clearly, Snape was not feeling the same closeness he was experiencing.

That hurt. Harry had to draw in a breath to relieve the tightness in his chest. "I'm not. It's just that...." Why couldn't he get the question out?

"For Merlin's sake, either ask or don't. Please stop the melodrama. I've had enough of it." Snape sounded both long-suffering and less-than-amused. That was pretty much a constant state with him.

"Fine. It's not that important anyway." Obviously, he could not tell Snape what he was feeling. It would be more fodder for ridicule, and Snape already had enough of that.

"Then do not continue to bring it up." Snape stepped into his pants and then his trousers.

When Snape was dressed, he turned to face Harry. "I won't bother telling you not to fly tonight. Quite obviously, you have no capacity for obedience."

"Thanks." Harry didn't think that even flying was going to fix what was bothering him. Not tonight, anyway. He wondered how he was going to get any sleep.

Snape gave him another long, assessing look, but then shrugged and left.

Harry got up and got dressed. He started for the tower, but then detoured away. Ron and Hermione and their questions and their sympathy would not help with what was bothering him. Being alone seemed like a good idea to him. So, he climbed the steps up to the astronomy tower, and settled against the wall.

"What is it, Potter?" he asked, sounding more weary than angry.

Harry looked down and then back at Snape. "I can't seem to...."

With a sigh, Snape stepped back. "I don't know why I'm indulging you."

"I think you know I wouldn't come to you if it weren't serious." Which sounded good, and was true, but Harry was surprised that he'd ended up at Snape's door this late at night.

Snape pointed to the sofa. "Sit."

"Can you give me something?"

"Nothing magical. I'm not sure what else is going to help."

"Then what are you going to do?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "What were you thinking I would do when you came here?"

"That's just it. I didn't know I was coming here until I was here." Now that he'd said it out loud, it sounded completely lame. And he couldn't do anything about that, either.

"That sounds typically Gryffindor. However, it's not useful. Did you feel compelled to seek me out?" The question was quite seriously asked.

It startled Harry, and he had to think about if for a moment. "No. I guess I was hoping you could help."

"I'm not taking you flying, if that's what you want."

It made Harry wonder what else Snape thought the spell might do. He shivered as a tendril of fear went down his spine. "Of course not. Ron would be happy to fly with me."

"Why didn't you go back to Gryffindor tower, then and find Mr Weasley?"

"I don't want to fly. I want to relax enough to sleep." He usually didn't sleep well anyway, but the thought of no sleep at all was daunting given what was going to happen in a few days.

"Nothing new with that," Snape muttered, finally moving from where he was standing to a small cabinet in the corner. He took out a bottle of some kind of whisky. "I daren't try anything magical, but perhaps something nonmagical."

He poured two glasses and came back to the sofa to hand one to Harry, sitting down on the other end of the sofa.

Harry raised his in salute and gulped it down. It hit the back of his throat, burning enough to make him choke on it. Coughing, he tried to catch his breath. He felt like an idiot for drinking it too fast.

"That was meant for sipping, Potter." Snape smirked at him, looking rather amused.

"Yes, sir." Harry tried to sound remotely respectful. They were in a difficult situation and he was trying hard not to push the bounds of it. Of course, it did occur to him that drinking with Snape in his quarters was probably already way beyond propriety. He didn't count what they did together for the spell. That really wasn't their choice. This was.

Harry watched the fire and sipped the rest of his drink. "It's not helping. I think I need to do something physical."

"You are on your own for that, Potter. I told you that I am not going flying with you."

Flying wasn't the only physical activity that took a lot of energy. He looked at Snape, and couldn't quite believe where his thoughts were going. Snape wasn't good looking, not by any means, but there was something about him that Harry had begun to find appealing. Some elusive quality that made Snape desirable, when he should have completely turned Harry's stomach. Harry didn't understand it, but he did know what he wanted.

Would Snape want to? Probably not if he were straight. But how straight could he actually be if he were able to respond to Harry as he had? He'd always heard that it didn't matter in the dark, but he rather thought that it did.

A faint flush appeared on Snape's face, and his expression turned wholly incredulous. "You're joking?"

"What? I didn't say anything." Harry could feel the heat stretch up from his neck. God, how had he known?

"What you were thinking is written all over your face. And it is a most inappropriate request." But Snape wasn't throwing him out and he wasn't saying no, either.

"I didn't actually ask for anything. Besides, it's not like anyone could say anything about propriety when I fucked you earlier this evening."

Snape winced at that. "Do I need to remind you that no one knows about what we are doing?"

"The Order does. Shacklebolt --"

"Told no one and asked that both you and I do the same."

"Why? I don't understand what the big deal is. This is necessary."

"You can't be that stupid, can you?" Snape's expression was scathing. "Oh, yes, of course you can be."

"Enough already. Just tell me." Harry's patience was starting to wear extremely thin. He didn't want to say or do something he would regret.

"This spell is very close to Dark magic."

"I know that," Harry snapped. "So?"

"Do you want people to know that was how you defeated Voldemort? If you manage it, that is. Do you want them to know what you did with a professor at your school? Because let me assure you if they know what you used, they are going to want to know with whom you used it."

"I don't think it's going to matter that much. McGonagall --"

"Headmistress McGonagall," Snape corrected.

"Headmistress McGonagall," Harry dutifully parroted back, "won't sack you for what you've done."

Snape looked at him as if he were mad. "All things being equal, perhaps not. However, she might not have a choice in the matter."

"The spell was...is necessary." Harry could not believe they were arguing about this.

"The spell may well be necessary, but what you are asking for right now is not."

Harry didn't think Snape was opposed to the idea, in spite of what he'd just said. "Except that it is. Besides, you haven't said no. Which leads me to believe you're not averse to the idea."

After slowly unbuttoning his robe, Harry shrugged ou