Dark Beginnings

“Severus, for the last time,” Dumbledore insisted firmly, “this isn’t your fault! You cannot be expected to watch over them continuously.”



Snape scowled, not heeding the Headmaster’s words, and glared at the screen surrounding Harry’s bed in the hospital wing. Beside him, Draco lay in bed too; the young man watching him with solemn, compassionate eyes.



“I should have guessed -” he began.



“Nonsense.” Dumbledore cut in. “Granted, we had forewarning that Lord Voldemort was planning to attack Harry. But we had no clue that he intended to create a mental link – although now, of course, that seems blindingly obvious, given their connection through that scar.”



“Albus,” Professor McGonagall shook her head a little, her expression and tone suggesting that this wasn’t the thing to say. Not now, not with Snape in such an evident state of self-reproach.



“He will be fine, Severus.” Dumbledore concluded, placing one hand on the Potion master’s shoulder in a grandfatherly gesture.



Snape said nothing and simply glowered at the curtain once more. A movement from Draco, however, drew his attention and he looked down to where the young man was beckoning for him to come closer. He sat with a sigh and looked apologetically at his ward.



‘Dumbledore’s right,’ Draco asserted, reaching up to touch his head just behind his ear, ‘you couldn’t know. You were asleep – hell, so was I until Harry suddenly leapt on me with all his magic crackling around him like St Elmo’s Fire.’



Snape frowned, his professional curiosity piqued, “What happened?”



‘I was asleep.’ Draco shrugged. ‘I felt Harry move – I think he was having a nightmare because I kept getting snatches of it mixed with my dreams.’



Dreams; not nightmares anymore, Snape noted and then nodded for Draco to continue.



‘Well, I was woken by Harry arguing in his sleep. He kept saying ‘no’ and ‘they’re mine’.’



What are his? Snape asked silently.



Draco’s eyes went distant for a minute as he scanned his memories, looking for an answer. ‘He was dreaming about what happened over the summer – he remembered when I took his wand, although he thought I was going to break it.’



Snape nodded, recalling the day nearly three months ago, when Draco had come to him with an explanation of Harry’s whereabouts and had given him the boy’s wand as proof. ‘So was Harry talking about his wand?’



‘I’m not sure, but I think he was arguing over you and me.’ Draco went on, looking up at Snape with steady eyes the colour of mercury.



‘With the Dark Lord?’



Draco nodded, ‘So I woke up and was going to wake Harry when he suddenly leapt out of bed and stripped, there and then. I tried talking to him but he…he wasn’t Harry…’



Snape recalled the diamond-like glitter in the green eyes and that smile that only now he could place as Voldemort’s.



‘He laughed and then he leapt at me…’ Draco’s telepathic voice trailed off and, unable to explain what happened, he showed Snape his own memory:



Harry moving with hard, forceful strokes, ignoring Draco’s questioning, Draco’s pleas. It had seemed, for one awful moment, that Draco’s first time would be taken by force. And then, when it appeared that Harry was entirely lost to Voldemort’s control, he came to and stared in horror down at Draco.



The younger man blinked, gazing at his guardian with an unreadable expression. Then, slowly, he spoke again within Snape’s mind.



‘He had me pinned to the bed. I’d tried to fight him off – to use magic, my fists, anything – but he was too strong, too powerful. But all of a sudden, he regained some control for a moment and, perhaps thinking that the Dark Lord would tire of me if I couldn’t react and respond, Harry stunned me.’



Snape nodded, wishing once again that he’d got up sooner.



‘Harry lost control again, though.’ Draco advised, continuing. ‘I could hear the Dark Lord’s voice, the conflict – even though I couldn’t move. He fought really hard.’ He added with a note of pride. He looked towards the curtains obscuring his view of his lover and sighed. ‘As punishment for defying him, the Dark Lord made Harry smash the water jug and he wanted him to cut me. But he wouldn’t.’ He finished in a whisper.



So, instead of harming Draco, which would go too far against the grain, Snape thought, Harry had turned the broken glass upon himself.



From beyond the curtain then, came a wail of such utter anguish that it tore at Snape’s heart and brought immediate tears to Draco’s eyes.



“Ssh…” they heard Madam Pomfrey say to Harry, “It’s all right; you’re safe.”



There was a soft, muffled sound and then Harry’s voice once more, “Did I hurt him? Oh, god, did I kill him? I couldn’t hold on, I let Caramon go – I-I wanted him to get Vol-Voldemort but -”



“Harry, ssh, now. Draco’s fine; you didn’t hurt him.”



“But Caramon…”



On the other side of the screen, Dumbledore gave Snape a questioning look and asked, “Caramon?”



“It helped in his training to imagine his power as a corporeal being. Potter took it one step further and gave it a name.” Snape shrugged and then gave the Headmaster a direct stare, “Headmaster, you recall the item I brought to your attention some while ago? Mr Potter needs assistance with this power.”



“I know, Severus, and I have been doing some research. Come by my office when you can; I’ll show you what I’ve found.”



Snape was about to reply when they heard a startled gasp from Madam Pomfrey. “Professors, I think maybe we should talk.” She said, sounding strained. She appeared from behind the screen then and led Dumbledore, Snape and Professor McGonagall to her office.



While they were gone, Draco took the opportunity to scramble out of bed and hurry on light footsteps to Harry’s bed. There, the dark haired young man lay staring up at the high, shadowed ceiling with tears running freely into his hairline.



‘Harry, please…don’t cry!’ Draco beseeched, pulling himself up beside his lover. With gentle hands, he stroked the other man’s hair and pressed a soft-mouthed kiss on his forehead.



‘I almost killed you.’



‘No, you didn’t. You fought him.’ Draco returned, placing his cheek against Harry’s and reaching down for one of his hands.



Madam Pomfrey had healed all the cuts – both self-inflicted and those acquired when Harry had fallen onto the broken glass. Only two marks marred the otherwise perfect flesh and those were the scars left by Lucius.



‘That’s what they’re talking about.’ Harry told him silently. Draco could just imagine Madam Pomfrey’s reaction to finding those bite marks.



*~*~*



“You knew about the marks?” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, staring at Snape. Beside her, Professor McGonagall gave the Potions master a long stare and then, turning her head, she regarded Dumbledore with a calculating gaze.



Another man might have shifted in his chair, perhaps uncrossing and then re-crossing his long legs; Snape, however, had better control of his emotions and so kept impeccably still. “I knew.” He said shortly.



“Then what -?” Madam Pomfrey began to demand but was interrupted as the Headmaster leaned forward slightly to gain a better view of his Potions master across the office.



“Severus, is there anything you can tell us without violating an oath or a promise?”



“No, Albus.” Snape returned immediately.



“I see. Then I take it that Harry has confided in you once again?”



Unwilling to admit that he’d disobeyed the Headmaster, Snape’s eyes slid away and so he missed the momentary flash of amused indulgence in Dumbledore’s eyes.



“Then, Poppy, I’m afraid there is nothing to discuss.” Dumbledore concluded, “These bite marks are further evidence of Harry’s troubled past and we owe him every courtesy by not pressing him for an explanation.



“But -” Madam Pomfrey started to object, only to be silenced by Professor McGonagall patting her arm gently.



“Come along, Poppy. I’m afraid that, where Mr Potter is concerned, the usual rules do not apply.” She said, giving Dumbledore and Snape a look as she rose to her feet.



Snape sneered: surely any child, bearing evidence of abuse, deserved the right to silence? After all, forcing a child to commit what could, in his or her eyes, be a betrayal, would be a form of abuse in itself.



“Severus, I suggest that we leave the care of the boys in Madam Pomfrey’s capable hands while we go to my office and discuss a means of handling Harry’s unusual magical power.” Dumbledore said then.



The Headmaster might have been suggesting, Snape thought sourly as he nodded, but he knew an order when he heard one. And so, convincing himself that Draco and Harry would be fine, he followed Dumbledore out of the office.



Upon entering the ward again, they saw immediately that Draco’s bed was empty. Madam Pomfrey gave a startled cry and hurried forward but Snape already knew where they’d find him.



“Oh!” Madam Pomfrey gasped as she tweaked back the curtain still surrounding Harry’s bed.



Professor McGonagall moved to stand beside the school nurse and looked too. She sighed and turned towards the Headmaster and the Potions master.



Lying on his side, his arms wrapped protectively around Harry’s body, Draco slept with his cheek pressed against the top of Harry’s head. Harry too was sound asleep and his hands had clenched into fists, holding tight onto Draco’s pyjama shirt.



“Well,” Dumbledore began, smiling gently, “I don’t think we should wake them.”



“You don’t propose to let them remain in the same bed?” Professor McGonagall stared at him. Her eyes then moved once more to Snape’s and she gave him a particularly searching look, as if wondering whether this was a regular occurrence. Once again, Snape kept very still and assumed a blank expression.



“Minerva, they’re doing no harm.” Dumbledore said, his tone gentle yet firm. “We can leave the screens up to prevent anyone getting funny ideas,” his eyes twinkled outrageously, “and in the morning, I’m sure they’ll be well enough to return to their own room and their own beds.”



“I suppose they do sleep in separate beds, normally?” Professor McGonagall enquired archly.



Without a flicker of an eyelid, Snape replied, “Of course,” in a cold, bored drawl.



“Right then,” Dumbledore announced briskly, “Well, Severus shall we adjourn to my office?” He paused then, “Unless you’re too tired?”



“No, Albus.” Snape sighed, “I doubt that I’d sleep tonight, in any case.”



“No, indeed.” The Headmaster agreed sombrely, giving the sleeping teenagers one last glance.



*~*~*



The cup of tea had long since gone cold and sat, unnoticed and undisturbed, on Dumbledore’s desk. Snape glanced at it once before returning his attention to the Headmaster.



Any trace of humour, sparkle or lively twinkle had long since gone from Dumbledore’s eyes and the man seemed to seethe with quiet fury.



“He stole his innocence.”



Snape nodded and said nothing. There had been no need to break his unspoken promise to Harry; the Headmaster was an intelligent man and could easily guess how the bite marks had come about.



“Is this a frequent practice?” Dumbledore demanded then.



Snape shifted in the hard backed chair. “It’s not uncommon.” He replied with apparent calm. “I, however, never took part – nor even lingered to witness.”



“Merlin, Severus, that’s not what I was suggesting!” Dumbledore exclaimed then, “I’m sorry! I’m simply trying to come to terms with what that poor boy has had to deal with.” He groaned then and covered his mouth with one hand before exhaling sharply.



“Not such a boy.” Snape interjected mildly, “He’s a man now – and a much troubled one.”



“Well, that’s hardly surprising!”



But Snape shook his head, “No, I mean, he deals with what’s happened – to a certain extent, he’s buried the experience. But it’s had a huge impact on his personality – hence the desire to be away from his old friends.”



“Quite the psychologist, my old friend.” Dumbledore remarked lightly.



At once, Snape became alert and looked to the Headmaster with bright, wary eyes. “Albus, I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to disobey you -”



But Dumbledore waved his words away and offered a sad sort of smile. “No, Severus, it is I who should apologise to you. You see, I fully expected you to disobey me – and that is why I forbade you in the first place.”



The Potions master stared at him with a hard light in his ebony eyes. “Tricked,” he muttered sourly, “by an old man who must have better things to do.”



Dumbledore looked utterly unrepentant but eased Snape past this issue by producing a Dark Arts tome and placing it on the desk.



“This,” he said, reverently stroking the dark, leather cover, “is the only one of it’s kind and has an answer to our problem, I believe.”



“This is yours?” Snape asked softly, leaning forward.



“Hm…I’d leant it to Amelia Eskin and, following her…disappearance…I doubted that I would ever get it back.” Dumbledore explained, “Her mother, however…” his voice trailed off and he gazed sadly at the book for a few minutes.



Snape’s insides squirmed as he recalled that Amelia’s fate was another undisclosed secret. This, however, felt too big, too serious to be thrown in regardless. After all, the Headmaster might not look too favourably upon the young man responsible for an Order Member’s death – even if it was Harry Potter and he had been under the influence of a Sanguinarius Control spell.



“Getting back to Harry’s…ordeal…for a second.” He said carefully, “I think you should know that I believe the Dark Lord used Sanguinarius Control.”



Dumbledore nodded, not looking surprised. “I suspected as much. This of course means that Harry is without blame. Yes, I know,” he held up one hand to halt Snape’s immediate tirade, “but the Ministry may not view it like that if things don’t go well for Harry.”



“You mean, if Harry doesn’t succeed in killing the Dark Lord.” Snape returned bitterly.



“They might not know of the prophecy, my friend, but they’re not entirely stupid. They know that there’s a link between Harry and Lord Voldemort.”



“A link that you’ve never satisfactorily explained,” Snape prompted. He gave the Headmaster a slow, calculating look and waited.



But Dumbledore, ignoring the Potions master for the moment, stood and moved to one of his cabinets. “Your tea’s gone cold,” he noted absently. “Would you like something stronger? A whisky, perhaps?” He proffered a bottle of scotch.



“I’d prefer the Oban.” Snape responded with a smirk to make any Slytherin proud.



Dumbledore sighed forlornly and reached further into the cabinet to take hold of the much-prized bottle. The Headmaster, in Snape’s private opinion, was too mean with his range of single malts – especially when you considered how generous he was with such things as sweets, tea and nasty, cheap scotch!



“So,” he said as Dumbledore resumed his seat, sipping at the scant finger of whisky.



“Where were we?”



“I believe,” Snape said slyly, “that you were going to tell me about the prophecy and its impact on Harry.”



There was a very long, heavy silence, during which Dumbledore sat perfectly still and regarded his companion with calm, watchful eyes. He seemed to be deep in thought; almost as if –



“Albus,” Snape said gently, “it’s been fifteen years. I’ve faced death and fates worse than death for and on your behalf. Surely, after so much, you can trust me?”



After another, shorter silence, Dumbledore nodded and drew a deep breath. “You’re right, my boy, and I’m sorry. I should have trusted you long ago with this.” He gave a weary little smile and Snape was suddenly alarmed to see tears welling in the old man’s eyes.



“Albus?”



“Sybil prophesised the birth of a boy, born at the end of July, to parents who had defied Voldemort three times.” Dumbledore explained, his tone leaden, “She prophesised that Voldemort would mark the boy as his equal, but that the boy -”



“Albus, for the love of Merlin, I know who you’re talking about. Please, call him by his name!”



For a second, Dumbledore blinked at Snape’s sudden outburst. The man’s tone had been desperate…almost distraught…and the start of an idea began to form in his mind.



“Forgive me,” he murmured demurely and then recommenced his tale. “Sybil prophesised that Harry would have powers beyond Voldemort’s understanding – the exact phrase was: ‘he will have a power the Dark Lord knows not’. The prophecy also stated that either of them must die at the hand of the other because neither of them can live while the other survives.”



Snape sat very, very still. If he moved, if he so much as breathed too deeply, he feared that he might begin screaming and never be able to stop. So Harry had to kill Voldemort, or vice versa. Well, said a voice within his head that sounded remarkably like his beloved, ever-practical aunt, that goes some way further to explaining Harry’s state of mind – assuming he knows about this prophecy.



At this though, he slowly lifted his intense, black eyes and gazed straight at Dumbledore. “Does he know?” he whispered very softly.



The Headmaster nodded, his face anguished. “I had to tell him at the end of last term.” He said, his voice surprisingly calm and steady.



So, after losing Sirius and almost dying once again, Harry had learned the awful truth about himself and Voldemort. And presumably, he thought, about the reason for his parents’ deaths.



“This power,” he began again, after another protracted silence, “was the prophecy describing this power that Harry holds now?”



“I don’t know.” Dumbledore shook his head and topped up their glasses without thinking. “I thought that it was talking about love. Harry, despite the trauma of a neglected, semi-abusive childhood, has always been filled with love; finding it easy to make friends and see the good in people.” He saw Snape’s lip curl in disbelief and smiled, “Even you, my friend. It only took one act of kindness on your part to convince Harry that you would be a worthy ally. He thinks a lot of you, you know.”



Snape scowled and took a large swallow of his whisky. “So you thought it was love – presumably because the Dark Lord has none of it and can’t abide anyone even mentioning it in his presence. He thinks love is a weakness.” He added, choosing to ignore the fact that he’d once thought the same – until he’d met Col, that is.



“Now, however,” Dumbledore shrugged, “I don’t know. This power that Harry wields was once Voldemort’s. So, in a sense, he does have ‘a power the Dark Lord has not’.”



Snape made a face, “Well, whatever the prophecy says,” he said firmly, “we need to deal with Harry’s power. Find a way for him to contain and control it.”



“Ah…” Dumbledore gave him an arrested look. “Well, Severus, there we have a problem…”



*~*~*



Harry woke on Sunday morning to find sunlight shining red through his eyelids and that alone was strange enough after two months of sleeping in a room with no windows. But there was a strange smell – of potions, medi-starched sheets and…something else…



With eyes still closed, he drifted on the edge of sleep and tried to place the tantalisingly familiar scent. Another, much more familiar scent filled his nostrils and he needed no second guesses for that one: it accompanied the warm, sleek body that curled around his own. Draco smelled of clean skin, sunshine and the exorbitantly expensive cologne that he wore occasionally but lingered about him in a delicious haze.



The other scent, however, continued to evade him and it was only when he realised that there were two people breathing close to him, that he opened his eyes and peered over his shoulder through the overly bright sunlight.



Severus Snape was sitting in a chair beside his bed and was asleep with his head propped on one arm; the elbow of which was resting on Harry’s pillow. The scent, he realised, was of Snape himself. His own personal scent was of whisky, cloves maybe and wood smoke; Harry supposed the latter two must be as a result of creating potions. Looking at the man by his side, he realised then that if he moved his face just a couple of inches, he would be close enough to kiss those lips, so soft in sleep.



‘And you said you didn’t find him sexy.’ Draco’s voice chided with a good measure of humour.



Looking back at him, Harry saw that his lover hadn’t moved an inch and hadn’t even opened his eyes; seeing things, instead, through Harry’s senses and Harry’s thoughts.



‘Well, certain elements of him are sexy.’ He replied carefully and smiled as Draco’s eyes then opened smoothly and regarded him with a steady, measuring gaze.



‘So kiss him and see what happens.’ He dared.



“When you two have quite finished,” Snape purred malevolently and Harry jumped, snapping his head around to stare at the Potions master again. The man was still in the same position but was now awake and watching him with unfathomable eyes.



‘Sorry.’ Harry murmured, looking apologetic.



It then dawned on him just where they were and a moment later, he remembered why they were there.



“Draco!” he gasped aloud, looking back yet again at the man in his arms, “Are you all right? Are you hurt? God!”



‘I’m fine, I’m fine – honestly!’ Draco cried, moving to lean up on one elbow over Harry to demonstrate the fact that he was unharmed.



Seeing this, Harry then looked once more at Snape and swallowed, his eyes large and shining. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I remember duelling with you – I-I tried to kill you…”



“Harry, you would have to try considerably harder than that to get rid of me.” Snape responded with the beginnings of a smile, “I must confess that I was more concerned that I had hurt you. When you fell onto that broken glass…”



But Harry was shaking his head, the pillow rustling beneath him. To forestall any further claims of culpability, Snape then took hold of the young man’s shoulders and pulled him across the few inches to the edge of the bed. Then, without letting go even for a second, he wrapped his arms around Harry’s body and held him in a firm but gentle embrace.



Over Harry’s shoulder, Snape then looked straight into Draco’s eyes and was quite perturbed to see his ward smiling with a rather self-satisfied expression.



*~*~*



It seemed to Harry that he had spent almost half his life being poked and prodded by Madam Pomfrey after one sort of near-fatal incident or other. She scanned his body, clad only in a borrowed pair of pyjamas and tutted softly in between quiet murmurs.



“Well,” she announced finally, “you seem to have survived once again, Mr Potter.” Her tone, Harry thought, suggested that this was a miracle that could surely not continue much longer.



He sighed and looked across the ward to where Draco sat on the edge of a bed, swinging his legs back and forth. The blond youth smirked and thought to him, ‘She’s only cross because she couldn’t give you the kiss of life – you know, that muggle CRP!’



‘I think you mean CPR.’ Harry advised, smiling. ‘And, just for the record: Eww!’



Just as Madam Pomfrey was telling him that he could go, the door opened and Snape stepped in, wearing clean robes that fell in smooth, unwrinkled folds. Looking at his face, however, Harry decided that if the man wanted to improve his appearance, he should get some more sleep.



“Let’s abandon our training for today.” Snape advised. “You’ve both been through the mill. Oh, and, Harry, you have a visitor.”



“Who?”



But the answer to that was suddenly very obvious as Hermione stepped into the hospital wing, looking pale and nervous. She shifted from foot to foot and twisted her hands in agitation for a moment before pushing them behind her back.



“Harry, are you all right?” she asked, staring at him with wide eyes.



He nodded, wondering at her apparent concern over his health and safety.



“Can we go somewhere private and talk?” she asked then.



Draco, looking deeply offended, hopped down off the bed and stalked towards them. At a glance from Snape, however, he halted and stood, hesitating beside Harry.



“Er…well,” Harry looked uncertainly from Snape to Draco and then back at Hermione, “is it urgent? Only I need to get changed and I think I ought to clear up the mess I made last night…” He glanced once more at Snape.



“Actually,” Snape interjected, “the house elves cleaned your room this morning. But that aside, I’m afraid your meeting with Miss Granger will have to wait. The Headmaster wants to see you – and you too, Draco – as soon as you’re dressed and ready.”



Harry frowned a little, wondering at this and looked once more at Hermione. She looked, for a moment as if she might argue with this, but then nodded reluctantly and turned to leave.



“I’ll talk to you later.” Harry called after her, feeling Draco bristling at his side.



‘Why does she have to keep coming?’ Draco scowled a few minutes later as they followed Snape towards the dungeon rooms.



‘Why don’t you like her coming?’ Harry countered in response.



They continued on in silence and then, when they reached the door to Snape’s office, Draco said, ‘Because she’s trying to change you. She wants you to be the old Harry; the Harry that hated me.’



Harry stopped in the doorway and stared at his lover in shock. For Draco to be so open, to drop his in-built pride and announce his deepest fears was just unheard of.

With a tender hand, he captured Draco’s face and turned it towards him, caressing his narrow, elfin chin with his thumb.



‘I’ll never hate you.’ He stated firmly. ‘Even if it were possible to change me back to the way I was – and it isn’t, for the record – my feelings for you wouldn’t change.’



‘You don’t know that.’ Draco replied.



It was, Harry thought later, a mistake for them to be having this conversation, standing so close and intimately, between Snape’s office and the open corridor. For just then, Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise and Theodore sauntered past, making ridiculous faces and exaggerated kissing noises.



“Look, Snape’s sex toys are at it again!” Blaise nudged Crabbe and sniggered.



Catching sight of Draco’s angry, frozen features and realising how he felt to be mocked and harassed by the very men that he’d once led, himself, Harry had to clamp down very hard on his magical energy; forcing Caramon behind him with a real effort.



“Mr Zabini, you will join me in detention each evening next week, starting tomorrow.” Snape’s voice cut in as he stepped towards them.



Looking up, Harry saw that the man’s eyes were dark and furious as he glared at the group of boys.



“Sir,” Blaise responded, staring at the floor and looking contrite. He clearly hadn’t intended for his Head of House to overhear his comment.



‘Prat.’ Harry snorted and then looked at Draco and realised that he wasn’t listening.



The blond young man was staring after the rest of the group as they moved on up the corridor with Blaise hurrying after them. As he watched, Harry saw Goyle turn and look straight into Draco’s eyes, his expression intense and watchful; almost as if he was trying to convey some sort of message to his former lover.



“Draco, are you going to linger in the corridor wearing only your pyjamas for the rest of the day, or do you think you might put on some clothes?” Snape drawled, regarding his ward with a surprising amount of understanding in his eyes.



Giving himself a little shake, Draco then looked back at them both and offered a weak, little smile before closing the door and following Snape and Harry into the sitting room.



*~*~*



Draco sat in Dumbledore’s office with a strange feeling of déjà vu. Snape and Harry sat beside him, opposite the Headmaster and it reminded him strongly of the evening when Harry had saved his life in the Great Hall by using Dark magic.



It seemed now to Draco that there were traces of an old argument between Snape and Dumbledore. They were exceedingly polite to each other – too polite, in fact – and they gave the appearance of tiptoeing around each other on eggshells.



Severus isn’t happy. Harry remarked without looking at him. Instead, he was looking at Dumbledore as the old man went on and on about how long a piece of research had taken. Draco resisted the urge to yawn and busied himself instead with ideas of how he’d like to spend the rest of the day.



Harry was tired, he knew that; the fight with Voldemort last night had taken a lot out of him and he still looked pale and wan with mauve-blue shadows beneath his eyes. His glasses only accentuated said shadows and Draco mused briefly on the merits of an ocularis-healing charm or even muggle contact lenses. But that wasn’t what he wanted to spend the day doing – there were much better things he could do. If Harry was tired then he could go to bed and he, Draco, would snuggle in beside him and be there for when he woke up.



“…and I began to give up hope of ever finding a suitable solution,” Dumbledore went on, his words passing over Draco’s head.



When Harry woke up, he would be in that deliciously warm and relaxed state that Draco loved most. In such a state, he would very often let Draco do almost anything he wanted and Draco, of course, had taken great advantage of that knowledge – although, as promised, he’d never force Harry to do anything with which he wasn’t comfortable. Early mornings were a favourite of his; he liked to wake Harry with gentle caresses and slow kisses, his hands exploring those areas that drew the most gasps and moans and oh so much pleasure.



His dreamy little smile was disrupted as Harry gave him a mental nudge and he realised that Dumbledore was looking expectantly at him.



“I said, Mr Malfoy, that you would be as eager as any of us to see Harry in a state where he can control his own power?”



Draco nodded, wondering what on earth this was about and would the Headmaster get to the point in the next decade.



‘Pay attention.’ Harry chided, his green eyes glancing sideways at him. ‘This is important.’



Draco sighed and sat up a little straighter; after all, if he was to implement his plan, he would need Harry to be in a good mood and not surly or sulky with him.



“So,” Dumbledore said, with the air of one coming to a conclusion, “it appears that the only viable option is the Nameless spell.”



Draco shot forward in his seat, mouthing his astonishment, ‘What did you just say?’



He felt Harry give him a look of surprise but ignored as, realising that the Headmaster of course couldn’t hear his thoughts, he scrambled for his wand and repeated the question, scrawling magical letters on the old man’s desk.



Before Dumbledore could reply, however, Harry asked, “What is the Nameless spell – and why’s such a big deal?” he added, shooting Snape a glance.



The Potions master had assumed a carefully blank expression, clearly revealing to any who knew him well enough that he wasn’t happy.



“It’s a spell that will enable one such as yourself and two others to pool and share your collective magical ability.” Dumbledore explained succinctly.



“And why’s it called the Nameless spell?” Harry asked, still not understanding why Snape or Draco should react as they had.



Dumbledore made a curious little gesture with his hands, moving them in circles as if searching for an explanation, “Speaking aloud the name of the spell is the first step in invoking the magic.” He said and then gave Snape an almost challenging look, as if daring him to contradict him.



Snape, for his part, made no comment but appeared to be chewing the inside of his lip.



“Uh huh,” Harry nodded slowly. “So what’s the big deal? I mean, Draco looked as if you’d just suggested removing my head and Snape’s clearly holding something back…”



Snape drew a deep breath and then looked down at his own long-fingered hands, rubbing distractedly at an iodine stain on his thumb. “Harry,” he said then, “the spell the Headmaster is talking about isn’t a very well-known or highly regarded spell. It’s to be found in only one book, of which Professor Dumbledore has the only edition, and it has only been used once in the whole of magical history.”



“Oh.” Said Harry and looked at Draco then, silently asking him what he knew of the Nameless spell.



‘Like Sev said,’ Draco responded, looking across at him, ‘it’s only been used once and that was by a small coven in Cornwall. It was a thousand years ago and they apparently had someone they wanted to get rid of so they used the Nameless spell to achieve that.’



‘And did it work?’ Harry asked.



‘It got rid of the unwanted wizard but the spell had some unexpected side-effects…’



“What side-effects?” Harry asked, speaking out loud by accident.



Thinking that Harry was asking him, Dumbledore shifted very slightly and replied, “Well there are one or two that might make life tricky for the three of you but -”



“Hold on!” Harry interrupted, “The three of us? You mean, Draco, Snape and myself?”



“Professor Snape, and yes, Harry, that is whom I meant.” Dumbledore nodded. “Now then, as I say, there are some side-effects but I believe that if we only invoke the first part of the spell and leave off the remaining two parts, then that should take care of them.”



“Headmaster, I would still like it on record that I was not in favour of this spell.” Snape stated firmly, his eyes dark and smouldering.



“Of course, Severus.” Dumbledore replied sadly.



“What – um – what are the side-effects?” Harry asked then, no doubt wondering if, considering Snape’s reaction, he should refuse to work the spell.



Both Snape and Dumbledore were suddenly Not Looking at either Harry or Draco; instead they appeared to be studying items of absolutely no interest. The Headmaster looked flushed all of a sudden and even Snape appeared to have some colour to his cheeks.



‘I know.’ Draco said silently to him. ‘The coven in Cornwall invoked the entire spell and combined all their powers to fight this one wizard. The resulting side effect was that they lost their personal identities – another reason for the name of the spell. It leaves you without those mental boundaries that enable you to know where you stop and I, for instance, begin.’



‘So we three would become one person?’



‘Only in our minds. Our bodies would still be free – or kind of. But that’s only when the spell is worked in its entirety.’



Harry nodded and looked thoughtful for a second. Then, ‘Why did you say only ‘kind of’ when you said our bodies would still be free.’



‘Ah. Well, when the coven worked the spell, they lost their personal identities but shared their thoughts and emotions and…um…urges.’



Harry blinked at him. ‘You mean, they all felt happy, sad, hungry, thirsty…? All at the same time?’



Draco nodded, ‘Yeah. And, yes, for the record, if one felt horny, they all felt horny.’



“Oh my god!” Harry exclaimed and then flushed scarlet upon realising that, once again, he’d spoken aloud.



“Ah,” Snape’s lip curled, “it seems that Draco has explained the hidden nature of the spell.”



“Er…yeah…” Harry swallowed, “And that would…I mean, we’d…”



“Only if you worked the whole spell.” Dumbledore insisted. “I’m almost certain that, after invoking just the first part, the three of you would only need to be in the same quarters – which you are already.”



“It’s the ‘almost certain’ that has me concerned, Headmaster.” Snape remarked dryly.



“Severus, if there was an alternative, don’t you think I’d have suggested it?” Dumbledore growled uncharacteristically. “I don’t relish the idea of placing two of my students, regardless of their age, in such a situation, but there is no alternative. And you have to admit that sharing Harry’s power will offer you and Draco the additional protection you both need.”



“I’ve managed sufficiently so far, Albus.” Snape snarled.



The Headmaster’s grey eyebrows drew together in a tremendous scowl and Harry interrupted, perhaps feeling that a stand-up row between the two professors should be avoided at all costs.



“Look,” he said, standing up suddenly, “there’s no point arguing about it.” He looked at Dumbledore then, “If you say it’s the only choice, then that’s what it has to be. We, all four of us, know that I’m a public liability all the time I’m struggling to hold on to Caramon. And last night proved that Voldemort can take control of him just like that!” he snapped his fingers. He looked at Snape then, his expression apologetic, “I think I understand where you’re coming from with this. You don’t want to risk being tied to two of your students and I would probably feel the same way. After all, who would want to live through their teenage years twice?”



“Quite.” Snape sneered, “Being governed by your raging hormones and incessant libido just doesn’t appeal, for some reason.”



“Severus.” Dumbledore cautioned with a low rumble. The Potions master made a token effort at looking contrite.



“So,” Harry continued, looking pale all of a sudden, “what should we do?”



Snape shook his head, “Harry, you don’t get it do you? There is no alternative so there is no question – other than where and when?” he looked enquiringly at the Headmaster.



“This afternoon.” Dumbledore said assertively, “Come back here after lunch and I’ll provide you with a room where you won’t be disturbed.”



*~*~*



‘Severus, you’re behaving as if this is your last meal.’ Draco commented, touching his guardian’s forehead with his fingertips.



The three of them were sitting at the table in their shared quarters, having just devoured roast lamb, roast potatoes and a mountain of steamed vegetables.



“Draco, perhaps you don’t understand.” Snape retorted caustically, “By tonight, you will be irreversibly linked to both Harry and myself. And whatever Dumbledore says, you will have some kind of emotional connection with both of us. Your identity will no longer be your own.”



‘And that’s a bad thing?’ Draco looked at him with an open expression, ‘Severus, I love Harry,’ he glanced across the table as his lover heard his words and smiled, ‘and I love you. You’re my family now, both of you. Without you, I’d have no one – and you know, after the life I lived, how important it is to have close friends and allies.’



For a long moment, Snape just sat in silence and then, with a rueful expression, he stretched out and arm and wrapped it companionably across Draco’s shoulders. It seemed, as time went on and these two boys wormed their way progressively into his life, that he was getting steadily more and more affectionate.



‘It’s good,’ Draco remarked. ‘It was doing you no good to be out on your own. You need us, Sev.’



“Well, it seems as though I have you whether I need you or not.” He replied and then added, “And by the way, you should note that you’re possibly the only one to get away with calling me Sev.”



“Could I?” Harry asked, pushing his plate away from him.



“Try it and see.” Snape smirked wickedly at him. “We should probably get going,” he said then, glancing at the clock.”



“Um…in a second.” Harry said, looking slightly nervous. “Before we do this, I just wanted to say thank you and,” he looked solemnly from one to the other, “if you really didn’t want to do this, well I could probably manage.”



“Nonsense.” Snape responded briskly, standing up, “We’ve had this discussion already and you know from experience that you can’t contain the power.” He paused for a second though and drew Harry in under his arm, just as he had Draco, ‘I appreciate the thought, though.’ He added silently.



*~*~*



When they returned to Dumbledore’s office, they found that the Headmaster had already prepared a separate room for them and had enlisted some additional help.



“Remus!” Harry stepped forward to clasp his former professor’s hand. The last time he’d seen him was in September; Remus had come late on the evening after Harry’s rescue from Malfoy Manor. Too exhausted to talk, Harry had simply smiled his gratitude at having his parents’ last surviving friend there with him.



Now, however, Remus looked very different and, judging by the way in which he appraised Harry, Harry too had changed.



“You’ve grown.” Remus noted with a warm smile, “You were looking decidedly scrawny the last time I saw you.”



“Yeah, well…” Harry shrugged. He hadn’t exactly been well looked after over the summer but he wasn’t about to bring that up now.



“And you’re powerful too!” Remus exclaimed. He flexed his fingers from where Harry had shook his hand, “Albus said but I didn’t realise just how much…” Realising then that Snape and Draco were waiting quietly with the Headmaster, he then gave an abashed smile and nodded awkwardly. “Anyway, we’ll catch up soon, Harry. Perhaps I’ll see you over the summer holidays – or even Christmas, come to that!”



“That would be good, Remus.” Harry nodded, still feeling slightly odd calling the man by his given name. It occurred to him then that Remus was fighting enormously hard to keep something back. Did he know about what had happened to him? About what he’d experienced?



He was about to query it, to ask Remus what was wrong but Draco then took his hand and it suddenly hit home that they were to begin the spell in just a moment. A ripple of apprehension shivered across his shoulders then and he gave Remus a last departing smile.



“Severus, you know what to do?” Dumbledore enquired seriously. At Snape’s curt nod, he added, “And you know the words?”



“Albus, Lupin isn’t the only man qualified in Dark Arts.” Snape growled.



“Defence Against the Dark Arts, Severus.” Remus corrected with a pained expression.



The Potions master gave a sardonic little smirk and bowed perfunctorily as Dumbledore and Remus left the room, closing the door behind them.



“Right,” Snape sighed, “before we begin, is there anything either of you need to do or say?”



‘Only this.’ Draco said and caught Harry in a swift embrace, kissing his lips softly and then smiling.



“Anything else?” Snape sighed, raising an eyebrow. “Right, if you’d be so kind, please stand on one of the knots drawn on the floor.” He pointed and Harry saw for the first time that strange markings had been drawn in chalk on the wooden floor.



At three points, a Celtic knot was drawn with intense complexity and, in the centre of the three points, was a large chalk triangle. Looking at the triangle, Harry got the bizarre impression that there was more inside than just dust and floorboards. It seemed that the inside of the triangle was in a very different place, maybe even a different universe, to the one on the outside.



‘That’s where our power will go.’ Draco advised him. ‘Then, after we’ve poured everything into there, we’ll each get back an equal share.’



‘How do you know all this?’ Harry asked, looking over to where his partner stood on his own Celtic knot. He glanced then at the tall, white candles that sat with absolutely no magic whatsoever in brass candlesticks on the floor around the diagram.



‘You forget who my father was.’ Draco responded, making a face. ‘And the candles are deliberately non-magical because any kind of magical interference could be disastrous. ‘



“Boys,” Snape chided, “concentrate. Harry, as soon as I begin the spell, you’ll feel your energy slipping away. Don’t panic; it’s supposed to. The same will happen to Draco and myself but, as we have less power, we’ll barely feel it. All right? Then I’ll begin.”



And with that, he lifted his hands, closed his eyes and began. “Ashe Lan Y Eron! Vor krasso pa mieren.”



At once, Harry felt a hard jolt that almost tugged him off the knot beneath his feet. It seemed to him that Caramon was escaping his control again and he had to struggle to keep from panicking and pulling the energy back towards himself. Looking up, he saw Draco’s eyes go wide as he too felt his magic slipping away.



“Mia treden, fre sarden et yarren vo eben.” Snape continued, the words of magic rolling fluently off his tongue and almost caressing Harry’s mind as it seemed that the man spoke within his head as well as aloud.



There was a fizzing, whining sort of crackle and then, with a lurch of fear, he realised that he was completely and utterly without magic. There was nothing there at all and, although he’d never been conscious of having magical energy, it seemed now that there was a yawning chasm where it had once been.



“Nereim ap ossark röv, nore y nal esha!” Snape concluded and with a roar, rather like the sound of a wave heading up the beach, the magical energy flooded back. It came with a surge of blue-white light and struck Harry with a hard but, at the same time, soft explosion and he reeled as magic tingled along his veins and nerve endings.



He could detect his own magic but, in addition, there was Draco’s unmistakable signature and Snape’s too. The Potion master’s magic had a thick, dark red, syrupy quality to it, heavier than Draco’s, and Harry wondered absently if one’s magic altered as one got older.



The next moment, however, there was no more thought. As the magic took over, Harry found he could do nothing but surrender as it to take over his system.



*~*~*



Quite what happened next, Harry couldn’t say, but when he finally came to he found himself to be lying on the floor with Snape and Draco in similar positions nearby. Slowly gaining the wits to look at his watch, he was astounded to learn that it was already early evening. The candles around them had burned down quite considerably.



At the point to his left, Draco’s eyes opened and he blinked slowly as he sat up. Snape too was waking up and was stretching his back, releasing a series of pops and cracks as he did so.



‘Did it work?’ Draco asked, looking from Harry to Snape.



‘It certainly appears so.’ Snape answered and then his eyes widened as he realised that he could communicate with his ward without contact or magical intervention.



‘We’re joined, aren’t we?’ Harry smiled, relishing the sensation of no longer having a force of wide destruction lurking just behind him. He’d developed the magic himself, true, but he’d never been entirely comfortable with the threat of immense destruction that was constantly at his fingertips. ‘We can share each other’s thoughts.’ He added, looking at Draco and Snape.



‘So it would seem.’ The Potions master replied and then smiled.



*~*~*



“Tell me what’s changed, if you can.” Dumbledore requested when they finally emerged, looking with interest at the three men sitting before him.



Snape frowned, trying to find the words, while at his side, Harry and Draco looked at him expectantly.



“We can communicate telepathically.” Snape responded at last, “Between us, there’s no need for normal speech.”



“Are you sharing each other’s emotions?” The Headmaster asked, looking concerned.



At once, Harry and Draco shook their heads and, a moment later, Snape replied, “No, just our thoughts – and only our surface thoughts at that. I’m not picking up anything from Draco and Harry other than their current thoughts.”



“We can share memories though,” Harry interjected. “It takes conscious effort – and permission?” he looked at Draco, who nodded, “But I can suddenly share memories of Draco’s childhood.” He shot his lover a swift look of sad-eyed compassion and then returned his attention to the Headmaster who was nodding, looking pleased and satisfied.



“Are there any unwanted side-effects?” Dumbledore asked seriously.



“No.” Harry and Snape replied together while Draco shook his head.



“Excellent. Well, perhaps you should experiment with your shared power?” Dumbledore suggested with a smile, “Just something simple.”



‘A levitation charm?’ Harry looked to Snape.



Snape, feeling vaguely offended (after all, did the Headmaster think he was some sort of performing seal?) thought that he’d like to levitate the Headmaster right out the window. It was only when Harry shot him a shocked glance and Draco gave a silent snort of laughter, that he remember that they of course could hear his thoughts.



‘You have no secrets now, Sev!’ Draco grinned, ‘Let’s cast an animation charm on the old man’s desk!’ And without waiting for his cohort’s approval, he silently cast the spell and sniggered as Dumbledore’s desk sprang to life and trotted to the side of the room, leaving him sitting in his chair, looking rather startled.



“Draco.” Snape rebuked.



‘Don’t be grumpy!’ Harry retorted on his lover’s behalf, ‘We’re just playing.’ Out loud, he remarked, “I felt that – when Draco cast the charm, it seemed to come from me.”



“In a manner of speaking, Harry, it did.” The Headmaster replied, coaxing his animated desk back towards him. “Severus,” he looked up then, “why don’t you try something?”



‘Steady.’ Harry cautioned and Snape’s lip curled before he muttered a quiet spell. A moment later, the Headmaster’s robes broke out in vivid turquoise and yellow polka dots.



Dumbledore laughed, clearly delighted at the spell and perhaps, Harry thought, looking into his blue eyes, he understood something of the Potion master’s animosity. It was at that point that Harry was enormously relieved that he didn’t share the Headmaster’s thoughts.



*~*~*



‘You didn’t try out your powers.’ Draco commented as the three of them returned to their quarters.



The corridors were mostly deserted with only a few older students moving from the library to their common rooms. A quick glance through one of the leaded windows showed that more snow was falling outside.



‘That’s because we don’t know if it’s safe for Harry to experiment outside the training room,’ Snape replied, automatically responding in kind. ‘That’s where we’re going now – if you’re not too tired?’ He looked enquiringly at his companions.



Harry shook his head and smiled then at Draco. ‘We’ll go out tomorrow; the snow will still be there.’



Draco made a face, although he liked the way that Harry knew what he was wishing. ‘A moonlit snowball fight is the best thing though.’ He objected and then looked at Snape, ‘Do you remember that fight we had at home – I mean, at my father’s house – when I was eight? We ganged up on father, you, mother and I.’



A fleeting smile skittered across Snape’s mouth as he recalled the time and his steps slowed. ‘We spent all day stockpiling snowballs – at first, I thought your mother was going to let on to Lucius what we’d been doing but then she was suddenly bombarding him as well!’



‘Sometimes I think mother thought Lucius should lighten up too.’ Draco remarked with a far away look in his eyes.



“She may have had a point.” Snape nodded, his voice soft.



Harry too shared their memories of the event, seeing each of their perspective and silently wondering at the relationship between the two of them.



“It must be so strange for you two,” he commented as they neared the training room door. “To have all these memories and yet to be together…like this.” He finished lamely with a shrug. “I mean, you’re closer now than you’ve ever been before…”



Snape’s eyes were impossible to read as he silently regarded Harry in the corridor. Beside him, however, Draco was smiling thoughtfully at Harry. Without a word, he stepped towards him and gave him a hug.



‘You’re part of this family too now.’ He said with a surge of warm affection.



At that point, Snape appeared to catch up for he suddenly gave Harry an image of his own imagining: a slightly idyllic, vaguely over-sugared image of the three of them celebrating Christmas together.



Harry smiled at the gesture and then gave the training room a frown. ‘Actually,’ he said, looking apologetic, ‘can we do this tomorrow? I need my bed.’



‘Of course.’ Snape inclined his head and they moved on to their quarters.



*~*~*



Snow continued to fall on and around the castle. Flakes melted on the muddy banks of the lake and, as yet, the water remained free of ice although the merpeople and the giant squid had moved far out into the centre where it was warmer, by a few degrees.



Hagrid’s cottage once again resembled a gingerbread house covered in icing and the yellow-orange glow emanating from the little windows looked warm and inviting.



Within the castle, however, down in the dungeons where two young men lay entwined beneath a pile of blankets, the air was chill and slightly damp. Not that this mattered to the two young men, for they were effectively sharing body heat and they paid little or no attention to their panted breaths forming little patches of mist in the air.



‘Are you okay?’ Draco asked, ending a deep, wet kiss with a tugging nip at Harry’s bottom lip.



“Mm…fine…” Harry murmured aloud, even though his mind seemed scrambled with emotions, desires and thoughtless, wordless want. As his lover’s fingers explored over his body, he squirmed and arched his back. ‘Want you.’



The words formed within Draco’s mind and for a second he blinked down into Harry’s face; softened by the single wand-light. At first, he couldn’t determine whether it had been his thought or Harry’s but then, as his lover repeated himself, he drew back a little.



‘What do you mean?’ He asked cautiously, ‘I thought you were tired.’



‘Mmm…was…not now.’ Harry responded and pushed his fingers into Draco’s hair before pulling him down once more for another impassioned kiss.



‘And you want me? I mean, you really want to actually…You want that?’



Harry laughed very softly, his breath warm against Draco’s lips. “Yes, I mean that and yes, I’m sure. I trust you. I think it’s time. That is,” he looked uncertain for a second, “if you do.”



In answer, Draco trailed his hand down his lover’s bared chest, making a slight detour to give the man’s nipples one last pinch and stroke. When his fingers arrived at Harry’s waistband, instead of skating his fingers over the fabric, he slid them under the elastic and took Harry in hand. ‘I want to.’ He breathed, kissing him yet again.



Harry responded by removing the last of Draco’s pyjamas and then rolling them both over so that the blond youth was sprawled beneath him, looking lithe, boneless and utterly delectable.



‘Can I…’ He started to ask but before he even managed to think the question, Draco nodded and pulled Harry’s hands down over his body; actively encouraging him to explore further than he had before.



Working with what little he knew and firmly locking the door on his torturous memories of the past, Harry moved with gentle care and attention to detail to bring Draco to gasping, panting imploration. With time, their kisses became more urgent, almost desperate and the slow, soft nature of before was long gone.



‘There’s oil…’ Draco began and then promptly lost his train of thought, as Harry’s motions became rather more intense. ‘There’s oil in the bathroom.’ He managed a few seconds later.



Oil. Of course. A thankfully brief recollection of knocking umpteen tubes of KY Jelly onto the floor in a chemist, whilst shopping with Aunt Petunia, flashed through Harry’s mind then and he fought to hide an embarrassed smile.



Catching the memory, however, Draco started to laugh, the sound filling Harry’s head even as Draco’s body quivered beneath his own.



‘Acc-accio Almond Oil.’ Draco summoned, trying hard to stop giggling. The bottle hit his out-stretched hand with a soft thud.



‘Give it here.’ Harry pulled the little bottle from his lover’s hand and moved at once with his fingers to stop Draco’s giggling there and then. It worked rather well, as it happened and suddenly Draco was gazing up at him with a quiet seriousness.



Harry stilled, gazing back. Before, there had always been a sense of play to their sessions of almost-sex. Perhaps in a bid to keep each of them away from the memories of the summer, they’d made light of their frequent liaisons, but this was different. There was a pause as Draco held his gaze, apparently aware of this too. He looked up at Harry, looking and feeling curiously vulnerable and Harry reminded himself that this was Draco’s first time.



Considering this and feeling Draco’s eyes on him as he stroked oil along himself, Harry thought he should take things especially slow. Those grey eyes watched him as he leaned down to touch his lips to Draco’s with almost hesitant sensitivity. Then, as the other man opened his mouth, Harry’s tongue delved and searched with renewed care and patience before drawing back and gauging Draco’s reaction. Their hearts, pressed so tightly against each other, raced at a frenetic pace.



‘If I’d been your first,’ Draco thought to him, ‘this is exactly how I’d treat you.’



Harry’s heart thrummed as he deepened the kiss and heeded his lover’s words, before drawing back and opening his eyes to see Draco lick his lips, catching one more taste of him.



Taking a moment, not wanting to rush this in any way, Harry drew back once more and studied the man lying in his arms. Draco’s eyes were dark now, stormy grey, and the long, sooty-black lashes accentuated the defined cheekbones and pointed, elfin chin. Really, Harry thought, Draco was quite, quite beautiful.



‘Harry,’ Draco’s voice sounded petulant and yet seductively amused, ‘I may be very into you but I am not a poof and I’ll thank you for considering me as dangerously handsome and not pretty.’ He uttered the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.



‘Fair enough.’ Harry nodded, adopting a carefully bland expression. This was, after all, no time for antagonism. He’d save ‘dangerously handsome’ for another time!



As he leaned down, bringing his face close to his Draco’s, his fists dented the mattress to either side of his lover’s shoulders, the soft sheet bunching under his knuckles. Those dark eyes swept his face intently, perhaps looking for some indication that he was teasing.



‘Or maybe I’m just thinking that you’re beautiful too.’ Draco supplied, his wonderful mouth curving up at the corners.



Harry blushed and a smile — Draco’s real smile, not a smirk — played across his lover’s face. Unable to help himself, Harry beamed and then nuzzled into Draco’s neck. Draco tipped his head with a shuddering sigh, writhing underneath him; demonstrating once again what a sensual being he was and reaffirming for Harry that he wanted every inch of him.



And knowing that Draco was a virgin made all the difference, somehow. It took Harry’s mind off his haunted past and allowed him to concentrate entirely on drawing bone-deep groans (albeit telepathic) and impassioned sighs from his lover.



Harry’s hands slid down cool skin that shivered at his touch and he took Draco’s left nipple in his mouth, before trailing kisses down his stomach and then, looking up at him with bright, glittering eyes, he took another step. Within his mind, Draco moaned softly, sweetly, and Harry closed his eyes on the sound, relishing it as he reached again for the bottle of oil.



“Are you sure?” he asked after a few minutes, forcing away his ache to take Draco there and then.



Panting, pressing his head back into the soft, down-filled pillow, Draco nodded and, when Harry still didn’t move, added. ‘Yes. Now. Please, Harry.’



Harry pushed smoothly into him with a guttural groan, lost for a moment in the overwhelming sensation. With a brief, momentary struggle, he forced himself to remember that this was entirely voluntary. No one was being forced; no one was here but him and Draco – who was watching him with compassion-filled eyes.



‘I love you…you can trust me…love me…’



Moving forward and back, he drew forth another silent groan and nuzzled Draco’s neck again, feeling Draco’s panted breaths in his hair. Draco’s hands caressed his back in a gesture of warmth and comfort but then, as Harry very slightly altered the angle of a thrust, those hands suddenly gripped his shoulders, telling Harry that he’d touched just the right spot. Pushing and aiming for the prostate again, Harry felt Draco shiver beneath him. A moment later and he was lost once more in sensation…



*~*~*



It had never occurred to Severus Snape until that night that his quarters were entirely too small. Indeed, it had never even occurred to him that his room adjoined Harry and Draco’s. And, whilst the walls were at least two feet thick, that seemed nowhere near enough to keep him away from the young men in the next room.



He lay in bed, curled on his side and considered whether it had been wise to hide the truth from Dumbledore. On the one hand, the Headmaster probably had a right to know that the spell hadn’t been entirely successful, but…



No, that wasn’t right. The spell had worked – in some ways, however, it had worked entirely too well. The simple fact was that, whilst Harry and Draco clearly didn’t share his emotions, Snape most certainly shared theirs. And given that he was privy to their thoughts to and about each other, the Potions master was currently in utter torment.



Next door, two feet away from where he was lying, Harry was pleasuring Draco with all the single-minded determination that he devoted to all his favourite subjects. And Draco, in turn, was doing his bit to bring Harry to a simultaneous, intensely pleasurable climax.



Meanwhile, Snape was here in bed and alone with only his self-control and his own brand of single-minded determination to keep him from bringing himself to a climax whilst sharing his cohorts’ passion through a magical link that allowed him snapshots of their lovemaking.



With a groan, Snape rolled onto his back and brought his arms up to cover his face, wishing for it to be over soon and yet hoping that it would go on and on.



‘Harry…I can’t…I’m going to…’



Draco’s ardent words reached him as clearly as if the young man had been in the same room, sharing the same bed…



Oh, Gods, don’t think that! Snape groaned again and wondered how he could survive this torture, knowing full well that he couldn’t possibly bring this to the Headmaster’s attention. Therefore, aware that there was no alternative but nonetheless loathing himself for his own weakness, Snape finally allowed his hands to lower and to take care of the matter himself.



And as he pressed his head back into the pillow, even as he echoed the boys’ ecstatic cries, he found himself yearning for their attention…and damned himself to hell.



The End



A/N To be continued - see Centre of Twilight