Madame Scarlet's

Author’s Note: I’ll warn you now, this chapter is Snape-centric, so if you don’t like him, I’m sorry, but he’s a big part of this story. I hope my loyal readers will be able to take it as a plot point and not a detraction from the story and I hope any of you who think –like me- that Snape has his own uniquely sexy appeal, that you’ll enjoy this chapter immensely.

Chapter 13 Eavesdropping

Harry had failed at nearly everything he’d worked at over the past week. His assignments – except for potions of course - his conversations, even flying felt awkward and uncomfortable to him now, and doubtless he had Snape to blame for that as well. As much as he’d like to place complete responsibility on his Potion Master’s shoulders, Harry knew it was mostly Draco’s fault he was in this mess.

Had he consulted Harry first, they probably could have avoided merging the minds of three men together into one helpless mass. But, of course, Draco didn’t see it that way, instead he thought that Harry was being an ungrateful prat and had shielded himself away so that Harry was left alone in his mind with Snape.

Hermione had taken time out to try and teach Harry how to shield but he was rubbish at it. Just like Occlumency, Harry couldn’t seem to grasp the subtle nuances it would take to shut his mind away from both Draco and Snape while still being able to function properly. It was bad enough in Potions when he’d look over at a student and judge their proficiency as Snape would normally be doing, but it was another thing entirely to have the ball of bitter rage in his belly that must accompany Snape on a daily basis. It made him feel a bit sorry for the ill-tempered man because if Harry’s life had been littered with the gnarled things he saw in Snape’s mind, he might have turned out just as cruel.

However, he’d found that the longer he spent sharing Snape’s consciousness, the more obvious it became that the cruelty was just a mask. Snape liked his job, he was good at it, and he enjoyed passing his knowledge down to others. Despite his demeanor, he actually silently celebrated when a student did well and was equally disappointed when they messed up. Most of his brutality stemmed from his disappointment in himself for failing his students when their potion brewed was incorrectly. Snape led a quiet life. He had no real friends; only his mentor Dumbledore and his business associate Lucius. It was hard to look into the Potion Master’s mind and see with his own eyes that his assumptions of the man were wrong, but Harry was learning so much that he didn’t bother trying to shield him as much as he probably should.

The worst by any depth of reasoning was at night. When the castle grew quiet and still, Snape’s mind wandered and Harry picked up on flashes here and there of his thoughts. Most were mundane, things like reviewing his schedule and curriculum for the following day, or wondering how Neville Longbottom had managed to live as long as he had with his tendency to ruin and backfire spells, but on some occasions his mind took him to more interesting places and Harry found himself watching the man’s memories as if he were in a Muggle cinema watching a dramatic film. Snape respected Harry’s power, even the display he’d fallen victim to the weekend prior, and he knew from Dumbledore’s word that Harry was nearly cast into Slytherin, which intrigued Snape to no end. He could also feel that Snape was battling against orders from Lucius, though what those orders were he was unable to make clear.

One evening Harry had been curled up in an armchair pretending to read his Transfiguration textbook when his mother’s face flashed before his eyes. At first he thought he was daydreaming again and his subconscious mind had drifted to thinking about his parents, but the images were clearer than usual and it was then he realized it was Snape’s memories of her that filled his mind’s eye. She was so pretty and clever and it was obvious by the way that Snape doted on her that he was in love with her. It made Harry wonder how different his life would have been if it had been Severus who had won his mother’s affections. Quickly he shook the thought away as his conscience reminded him that he’d had sex with Snape, and it doesn’t do a bit of good to imagine having sex with one’s father.

A shudder ran through his body at the thought and he felt filthy all over, so he excused himself from the common room and decided a shower was in order. As the warm spray beat upon his shoulders, another pair of green eyes filled his vision and he realized that Snape was thinking about him. He was thinking about the way his hair fell to cover his scar, the way his mouth twitched when he tried to conceal a smile, the way that same mouth felt on Snape’s cock, and Harry found he could remember that vividly as well. Before he knew it he was wanking in the shower over the joint memories of that night, the images all blurred together in his mind until he didn’t know which were his and which were Snape’s.

Harry’s knees nearly buckled with his release and he slumped against the cool tile wall to try and regain his balance. It was then that he realized Snape had been pleasuring himself with the memory too, and he didn’t know exactly what to think about that. Part of him was disgusted, but mostly he just felt confused by the entire situation. It wasn’t the act itself that confused him, it was the fact that he could feel Snape like a second skin; he could sense the man’s emotions as clearly as he sensed his own and Snape was fond of him in a way Harry hadn’t suspected before. He thought all Snape wanted was to fuck the Gryffindor Golden Boy, perhaps get back at Harry’s father in his own twisted way, or even try to live out the romance he’d wished he’d had with Harry’s mother, but no. Snape fancied Harry for reasons that had nothing to do with any of that, although, he did feel all those reasons mingled and mashed in there as well, along with his loyalty and love for Lucius Malfoy.

That was another problem altogether. When Snape wasn’t thinking about class assignments, particular students he detested, or fantasizing about Harry, he was thinking about Lucius. Harry tried to shut down those memories and thoughts, but it was difficult. In the end, he found that redirecting his thoughts was far easier than trying to shut them down completely, so whenever Snape thought about Lucius, Harry counteracted it by thinking about Draco, which was certainly better but not without its own flaws.

Thinking about Draco just made Harry’s Incubus flame to life inside of him, clawing his chest as if it were a tiger held captive by Harry’s ribcage. It was excruciating and several times Harry had to physically stop himself from going to Draco when that happened. He was still conflicted over his feelings for the blond and he’d resolved that he would try to avoid him until Hermione found a cure for this binding. He knew that even one moment alone with Draco would turn to snogging and then more and Harry wasn’t ready for that yet. He still needed time to think and, luckily, Draco was giving him that time, although based on the tight looks he shot Harry across the Great Hall or in class, Draco wasn’t happy that he had to give Harry this time apart.

It was pertinent to Harry’s sanity that he stay away from both the men he was attached to as much as possible. Now that he was bound mentally to Draco and Snape, the Incubus found them nearly equally delicious, and with the flood of emotions and memories constantly barraging him from the Potions Master, Harry was beginning to get a stir of genuine feelings toward the man. During Potions he tried to avoid all eye contact, which was easier now that he wasn’t botching every potion he laid his hands on, so the professor had no reason to hover and berate him. He picked out of the man’s mind that he didn’t compliment students who did well because when they moved on from the classroom and into wizarding society, praise was not something the students would be able to count on, so he didn’t want them to get used to it. Though Harry suspected that it was also because he enjoyed making people feel inferior even if they did well –but that was only because Snape often felt inferior himself and liked to pass the feeling along when he could.

It was easier to avoid Snape than it was to avoid Malfoy, who he shared nearly every class with, but it was manageable and all through the week he did his best not to interact with him. His efforts to keep the Incubus at bay but led him to constant distractions as he used his mental connections to maneuver through the castle without bumping into either of them.

When Friday night came along, Harry had a decision to make and it wasn’t an easy one. He had detention, which was mandatory of course, but he couldn’t chance being alone with Snape. Now more than ever, he feared what would happen if he was locked inside a room with the man. So, out of necessity, he skipped his detention and instead spent his time in his room attempting to do homework.

Harry only first noticed that this simple dismissal wasn’t going to work when he caught sight of the Fat Lady’s portrait through someone else’s eyes. His heart sped up as he realized he had no easy escape; Snape was coming to find him. Diving for his trunk, Harry extracted his invisibility cloak and threw it over him, hoping Snape would discover the room empty and leave.

Such was not the case, however.

Harry watched as Snape entered and shut the door behind him, his obsidian gaze casting over every nook and cranny in the round dorm room until they stared squarely on him, as if the man could see through the cloak and into Harry’s very soul. He looked down to make sure his trainer wasn’t poking out or that there wasn’t some other giveaway to his location, but he was thoroughly covered. How could he know Harry was there?

“I can feel you, Potter,” the man said, as if in answer to Harry’s silent question. “I can feel your thoughts in my head, you’re projecting your location right to me.”

Harry removed the cloak with a sigh and tossed the shimmering bundle of fabric to his bed. There he was, Snape staring holes through him and all Harry wanted to do was kiss him. He was defeated; there was no hope for him now.

He was surprised to a faint blush creep across Snape’s cheeks at his thoughts and it took all of Harry’s willpower to shield against diving into the professor’s mind to discover what he was thinking about.

“What I don’t understand,” Snape said, clearing his throat sharply as if that would make the crimson blush fade away, “is why you thought it prudent to skip my detention.”

“I can’t be near you right now,” Harry admitted. It would simply save time to be honest since the professor could pluck the truth out of his mind with ease anyway. It seemed their close proximity made it even easier to read one another, and Harry was picking up confusion and lust from the older man.

“Because you want me?” Snape pressed as he took a step forward.

“My Incubus does,” Harry clarified. He wasn’t ready to admit that he might be having feelings other than loathing toward the man.

“I see,” Snape replied, and he knew the man saw quite a bit. No doubt he could see that Harry was looking at him differently, noticing the way his robes draped almost elegantly on a body Harry already knew was surprisingly fit. He surely recognized that Harry thought he looked graceful as he walked, and that his hair looked shiny and soft tonight, not greasy from potion fumes. It was embarrassingly obvious that Snape had at least sensed his affection for the man’s voice, which happened to be one of his favorite things about the professor; that deep lilt that sounded vibrating and seductive even when he was merely listing off ingredients for the students to fetch. The Potions Master gave Harry a subtle smirk and drew closer, so close that Harry could catch his scent, a heady and musky aroma, and his Incubus caught it too.

“I’ll be sure to speak more often in your presence if it truly has such an effect on you,” Snape purred against the shell of Harry’s ear. The sensation was all it took for the Incubus to rear its ugly head and attack the man in front of him.

Their lips crashed together in a hurried manner, as if neither could live without the other. Harry linked his arms around Snape’s neck and the man lifted him up so that Harry could wrap his legs around his waist. The position pressed Harry against the wall behind him and had Snape’s generous erection pressing into Harry’s arse, the effect of which was maddening.

He didn’t want to lose control and he didn’t want to give up his fight for independence from either of the men in his life, but the pull of the Incubus was certainly not a feeling he could ignore. He felt the man tearing at his robes, trying to get his hands on bare flesh and all he could do was murmur his desire against the man’s probing tongue.

Harry could feel more than desire beaming from Snape, however, though he wasn’t sure the Potions Master had even reconciled those thoughts yet. Love and adoration was whispering over his body and Harry realized the feelings were coming from Snape of all people. It was hard to trust it though, not with the unprecedented situation that had been thrust upon them.

“Snape,” he gasped when their mouths pulled apart for air. The man had Harry’s shirt and robes pulled off as he angled to suck at Harry’s exposed neck. “Please…look at me.”

The plea snapped through the lusty fog the Potions Master was drowning in and he lazily glanced up into Harry’s eyes. “Call me Severus,” the man whispered and Harry nodded, though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to break years of habit.

“We can’t do this here,” Harry said clearly, forcing the Incubus back into its resting place. It took a lot of energy to try and control the beast but he achieved it…for how long, he had no idea.

A flicker of understanding flitted through Snape’s eyes and he nodded. “It would be highly inappropriate to take you here in the Gryffindor dorms,” he agreed. “We can go to my private quarters.”

Conflict rose up and tore at him again. He couldn’t willingly accompany the man to his private bedroom when he knew very well what the outcome would be. They would have sex and Harry would regret it in the morning when it made everything more awkward and confusing than it already was. “We shouldn’t do this at all,” he whispered at last.

Harry’s legs were still wrapped tightly around his professor’s waist and his lips were swollen from the attack on Snape’s lips and the uncomfortable rub of the older man’s mild stubble. His hair was disheveled – even more so than usual –and his body was betraying his mind in the worst ways. Snape’s nails dug sharply into his arse making Harry groan and rut against the Potions Master.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t,” Snape conceded. “Merlin knows I realize how wrong it is. You’re of age, but you’re still my student. You’re under the protection of the Ministry and Albus and if either of them found out about us it would be my head, but I-” His voice cut off there but the sentence finished in Harry’s mind as if Snape had spoken it aloud. ‘But I love you, Harry.”

Harry swallowed thickly, unsure about what to do. Draco had professed his love to him as well, and Harry could feel conflicting affection for both of them, but he didn’t want either. He wanted a normal relationship. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life bound to the deceitful Slytherin blond or the pushy potions professor. But right now his Incubus wanted Severus, and since the beast within him was the only thing that had a clear answer, Harry gave in.

Snape was the one to initiate the kiss this time, no doubt hearing the shift in Harry’s thoughts, and it was gentler this time, as if Snape was determined to take care of him and worship his body. He could feel more than see Snape casting wards on the door. They wouldn’t be going anywhere and no student would bother them until Snape was ready.

When Severus carried him over to the bed, Harry nearly moaned, the action made their cocks rub together with delicious friction. Snape took his time in finishing his undressing and admiring of Harry’s body, softly caressing his exposed skin as he worked. Harry wondered briefly if he was being manipulated, but he could feel Snape’s wanting like a palpable force, and it wasn’t want for sex – at least not sex alone – it was for love. Snape, more than anything, craved for someone to love him and he hoped that Harry could be that person.

Harry nearly sobbed at the thought of letting the man down, as he surely would. He had to feed the Incubus, but he couldn’t see himself waking up in Snape’s arms every morning, having quiet walks by the lake or taking their meals together. He couldn’t see a relationship… not even the scant image of the companionship he could see with Draco. He also wondered how much of these feelings were Snape’s and how much were a mingling of Draco’s and his own personalities squashed into the older man’s consciousness. Perhaps it was only his and Draco’s teetering emotional states that brought Snape’s true feelings to the surface.

Snape picked up on these thoughts at once and halted in his movement, staring up into Harry’s emerald gaze. “I’d prefer you not share what you steal from my head with anyone else,” he told him and Harry shook his head in dismay.

“I would never,” he replied honestly.

“Never?” he asked, and Harry knew the question was actually ‘Are you sure you could never love me?’ and since Harry wasn’t completely sure, he just stared back. “Perhaps I could persuade you,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to Harry’s swollen lips before casting a silent Charm that left Harry lubricated and ready to take Snape’s length. The Incubus lingered inside him, growing hungry and impatient and it left no room in Harry’s mind to reason this out, to protest, to do anything but lay there and accept his fate.

As the man slid into Harry, all his doubts fled away to make room for his desire. His eyelids fluttered closed and his lips parted as he thrust back on the intrusion. Everything was perfect for one singular moment as if the planets had aligned and were about to give Harry some cosmic advice…but then there was screaming.

The scream was more of a desperate and strangled cry, and Harry knew that if the sound of a heart breaking could be audible that would be what it sounded like. It wasn’t from his own throat or from Snape’s, and from the look on his face, Snape had heard it too. After a panicked glance around the room showed that there had been no break in Snape’s wards, Harry realized that there was only one option left.

Draco.

Author’s Note: How is that for a cliffhanger, eh? I’ll be waiting for the emphatic ‘poor Draco’s’ to be coming in any moment now. Although, honestly, I feel bad for the whole lot of them.