The Iridescent Conclusion

After knocking on the Potion master’s office door, Harry leaned his head on the door jamb and closed his eyes briefly, drifting towards sleep where he stood. He was exhausted, his anger was rapidly fading into sick worry and when was Snape ever going to open this – oh!

With a start, he realised that the man had been standing, staring at him for several seconds.

“You should be in bed,” Snape said quietly, his tone not unkind.

“You said to come down when I was finished in Dumbledore’s office,” Harry countered, aware that he was slurring his words.

“By which, I assumed you’d be down before,” Snape checked the time, “two in the morning.”

“Did I wake you?” Harry asked stepping into the office and then around the desk towards the door to Snape’s quarters.

“Of course not,” Snape shook his head, “I took an energising potion a while back.” He gestured to a half full phial of clear pink liquid and then nodded when Harry looked questioningly at him.

Thankfully, Harry swallowed the rest of the potion and drew a deep breath as it immediately went to work on his tired muscles and fuzzy head.

“So how is he?” Harry asked then and continued on into Snape’s living room.

“Not good,” Snape sighed, “I’m trying everything I can think of and I just keep hitting problems.”

“Like what?”

For a moment, Snape favoured Harry with wryly amused look, reminding him that he was no expert at Potions, despite being in the Advanced class. “The main problem,” he said then, “is that Draco was given a serious overdose. The potion is sitting in his system, infusing every cell and it’s likely to react badly to any of the usual antidotes.”

“Usual antidotes,” Harry pounced immediately, looking hopeful, “so a rare antidote might do it?”

Snape looked pained, “No, Mr Potter, it isn’t as easy as that. By usual antidotes, I mean universal antidotes – as in the sort that will cure most poisonings or overdoses. When we get into situations like Draco’s, it’s a slow, methodical process of trial and error.”

Harry stared at him, “Draco doesn’t have time for us to be slow and methodical; that could take weeks. Sev, Draco doesn’t even have another day, does he?”

The Potions master started to shake his head and then realised that Harry, in his agitation, had called him by his first name. Harry, it seemed, realised too and, to cover the sense of awkward embarrassment, he started towards what used to be his and Draco’s room.

“No,” Snape said then and pointed, “I put him in my bed so that I could rest and keep an eye on him at the same time.” Except that they both knew he had no intention of sleeping until Draco was better; hence the Energising potion.

“Right,” Harry nodded and opened Snape’s bedroom door.

As the door clicked and swung open, Draco rolled over and made an attempt at speech; opening and closing his mouth, his throat working but of course, no sound coming out. After a moment, he looked rather alarmed and scrabbled at his throat as if he’d forgotten that he hadn’t had a voice for the past seven months.

“Draco! Draco, easy – ssh! Calm down,” Snape stepped around Harry and hurried to the side of the bed. He pulled the younger man’s hands away from his throat and tried to make eye contact.

“Can’t he hear you?” Harry asked, feeling uneasy and looking on with a sense of trepidation.

“He hears but...” Snape shrugged, “He just isn’t himself; the potion has taken over so much and I don’t think there’s much more to him than need right now. He needs to speak, he needs to touch, to be touched...”

Horrified at this, Harry forgot his own feelings and came nearer, saying silently, ‘Draco, it’s Harry. Can you hear me? Talk to me, Draco; just like this.’

And as if the telepathy opened the gates of communication, Draco’s voice suddenly filled their heads. He made little sense, however and appeared to be just stringing random phrases together:

‘…esteemed brethren... crush the leaves, Weasley; don’t mangle them... so hot... hear me roar... ... Daddy... Harry... combine belladonna... but don’t scald them... ten points to Slytherin... Harry, don’t kill him... love you…’

This last was delivered just as Draco fixed his blazing purple gaze upon Harry and Snape.

‘Draco?’ Harry murmured again and crossed the final distance to sit on the edge of the bed. He then took Draco’s left hand and squeezed it gently.

‘... the pressed juice of half a cucumber... he’s not your friend, you don’t deserve him... he’s mine... mine... yours...’

‘Oh, Draco,’ Harry said silently, remembering how the blond Slytherin had enjoyed being referred to as Harry’s possession. His friend was clearly rambling; possibly too lost on the effects of the potion to even know that Harry was with him.

But then Draco looked up at him with more clarity than before and reached out, catching Harry’s other hand. With surprising strength, he then tugged and succeeded in pulling Harry forward.

“Whoa! Draco...” Harry exclaimed in alarm.

“He’s tried that several times,” Snape remarked. “The potion is driving him to act on sexual urges that he would otherwise ignore.”

“Yeah, get that,” Harry panted, fighting to remain upright as Draco struggled to bring him down onto the bed and remove his open robes at the same time. “Draco, much as I love you, this isn’t the time or the place.”

‘...boil the potion on a high flame for three minutes... the motion of the wand should be smooth, Mr Finnegan... don’t do this... oh, Greg, what have you done?’ Draco responded, not making any sense at all.

“Why does he keep quoting from lessons?” Harry asked, finally managing to reach a compromise where he lay beside Draco but held both of Draco’s hands still upon his chest. This close proximity seemed to be calming, however and he was able to focus on the Potions master for a minute at least.

“I don’t know,” Snape replied, shaking his head and stepping slowly around the end of the bed into the bathroom. He reappeared a moment later with a cool, damp flannel for Draco’s forehead. “I think it’s just the effect of the potion; it contains a high quantity of the magical plant, Nilwor Trefoil, which is used elsewhere in potions of remembrance. Possibly it’s just his subconscious dredging up memories, rather like dreams and he’s...”

“What?” Harry looked up. Snape had just stopped, mid-sentence and was now staring at Draco in astonishment. “Snape, what is it?”

“What did he say? Think! Go over what he said just now about potions,” Snape ordered, hurrying around and sitting beside Draco. “He said to boil the potion on a high flame for three minutes – what did he say before that?”

“Um...” Harry furrowed his brow in thought. It wasn’t easy; he hadn’t paid much attention to Draco’s rambling. Fortunately, the Energising potion took full effect and Harry’s synapses fired into life.
“He said something about pressing half a cucumber...”

“The pressed juice of half a cucumber,” Snape corrected, remembering too.

‘...stir the juice into the belladonna leaves but be sure to wash your hands... I have enough to do without wasting my time, dispensing antidotes to dunderheads...’ Draco added, sounding startlingly like Snape, himself.

“Right! Belladonna leaves!” Harry cried and in his excitement, released Draco’s hands, “He said ‘crush the leaves, don’t mangle them’ or something. And then, something about not scalding them.” Too late, he realised his mistake as Draco’s fingers deftly undid his shirt buttons. “Draco!”

‘...liars, traitors and scum...’ Draco responded in a low voice.

‘That they are,’ Snape replied silently and turned over the flannel so that the cool side was against his ward’s skin. He looked at Harry then and offered a tight, grim little smile, even though Draco had switched his attention from Harry’s shirt to the fastening of Snape’s black trousers.

“I have an idea,” Snape said quietly. “Can you stay here with Draco while I try something? I don’t want to risk putting him under another magical sleep; his heart’s in enough danger, as it is. Just try to keep him calm for me.”

Silently, Harry nodded and offered the other man a slightly uneasy answering smile as Draco rolled over and began to press heated kisses along his collarbone.

*~*~*

Whatever Snape was doing, Harry thought a while later, he wished he’d hurry up; Draco was proving to be more than a handful.

‘As you should know full well,’ Snape’s voice intruded on his thoughts, ‘a potion cannot and will not be hurried. If the instructions say to simmer for twenty minutes, then that is precisely what you must do.’

‘Yes, all right!’ Harry retorted sharply, even as Draco twisted free of his hold and pounced once more. It seemed that he responded most strongly to telepathic communication; whether it was aimed at him or not.

‘I thought I told you to keep him calm?’ Snape said then, sounding irritated.

‘And I will,’ Harry growled, ‘if you’ll stop provoking him.’ If there was any response then, he didn’t hear it but closed the link and focused on removing Draco’s hands from his already open jeans.

“Damn it, Draco, stop now.” He panted as Draco pressed urgent kisses across his cheek and down to his ear. He pushed at him then and stared up into the desperate expression, “Okay? It’s late, it’s sleep time. Yes? We just lie here and go to sleep,” and he made a show of lying back on the pillows and closing his eyes whilst holding tight to his friend’s hands.

‘Burning... no sleep... need to slice the caterpillars...’ Draco replied, gazing at him with the same bright purple gaze.

Harry sighed and opened his eyes again, looking up at him. “That almost made sense,” he noted, “Except for the caterpillars. No, Draco, no kisses!”

He rolled then, pinning the other man beneath him with Draco’s hands still clasped within his own. At once, with Harry’s weight on top of him, Draco went still and looked up at him with more peace than he’d shown all night.

“Draco?”

‘Harry...’

Harry gasped and searched the face before him, looking for some clue that his Draco was back with him. He shifted a little, sliding to one side again and immediately, Draco tried to wriggle free.

“No! Ah... hang on,” Harry shook his head and resumed his position on top.

‘Harry... oh please... make this stop...’ Draco groaned at once.

“Draco, do you understand me?”

‘Yeah... I think so.” Draco replied and swallowed painfully, “Merlin, Harry, I feel awful! It’s so hot in here!”

Almost sobbing with relief, Harry braced himself with his elbows on either side and gave a sad smile. “The room is actually quite cold; it’s you that’s hot. You’ve been poisoned, Draco. Sev’s doing all he can to help you but -”

‘Goyle did it, didn’t he?’ Draco asked then with quiet sadness in his eyes. They burned with a little less fire, Harry saw.

“We got him,” he assured his friend. “The MLE have taken him and Blaise Zabini.”

‘And me?’ Draco raised an eyebrow, ‘I’ve got to tell you; I feel like I’m dying here. My heart’s beating so fast and I... can’t... breathe...’

“Draco?” Harry shifted, not wanting to squash him. As soon as he moved, though, so Draco’s hands pulled free and went immediately for the waistband of his jeans.

‘...stir the juice into the belladonna leaves...’ Draco advised.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed sadly, “we know about the belladonna.”

‘...simmer...’ Draco added, sounding fretful.

“Ssh!” Harry chided ever so gently. Managing to rest by the side of his friend, he then pressed a heartfelt kiss to Draco’s cheek and blinked as Draco went still again.

“Draco?” Harry said softly and then pressed another kiss to the Slytherin’s bare shoulder.

With a little sigh, Draco suddenly turned calm and relaxed; letting his arms drop to the bed and his eyes close peacefully. For a second, Harry panicked and sat up, staring at him and trying to determine if Draco was still breathing.

At once, however, Draco’s eyes opened, he made a short noise of protest and his hands went straight for Harry’s open jeans.

“Okay, I get it.” Harry muttered and bent his head to press a line of kisses over the other man’s chest and stomach.

*~*~*

With a gesture at the flames, Snape extinguished them and peered into the cauldron before glancing at the clock on the wall. It was five o’ clock and the potion was finished.

It had been Draco’s mention of cucumber that had sparked Snape’s memory, for few potions included such a common, every-day ingredient. That and the belladonna!

What he had in front of him was a mixture to subtly change the nature of the potion in Draco’s system. Hopefully, it would now be possible for the potion to simply work itself out, in a similar way to alcohol but with fewer after effects.

Decanting the greenish-purple potion into a glass beaker, Snape then made his way back to his bedroom. Upon opening the door however, he found the room to be protected by wards and shielding charms that sizzled faintly as he stepped through. And the scene before him rocked him back onto his heels and for a moment all he could do was stare.

Draco lay, sprawled and bonelessly relaxed without any clothes on and Harry lay between his legs, equally naked, stretching long, sensuous licks up and over Draco’s hip bones, stomach and hard, twitching cock.

Snape really wanted to make a sharp, possibly caustic comment. At the very least, he felt that he should turn around and walk back out again but it seemed that his feet were refusing to move and his own erection was clearly in cahoots with them and was already pressing urgently against the inside of his trousers.

‘Severus,’ Draco’s silent voice startled him then and he dragged his gaze from Harry’s busy tongue to the blond man’s eyes. They seemed calmer now; no longer blazing with feverish intensity.

‘This,’ one of Draco’s hands twitched towards Harry, ‘helps. Things become clearer...’ he sighed then as Harry took him fully into his mouth and Snape once again found that he was staring.

He’d almost forgotten how beautiful Harry was: the long line of his smooth back; the colour of his skin – muted gold in the soft light. The boy’s hair had grown too long over the past few months but, right now, Snape thought that it looked right with the black, tousled ends reaching almost to his shoulders. Shoulders that still bore the marks of Lucius Malfoy’s passion, a small voice noted with a possessive growl.

At that point, Harry opened his eyes and regarded him silently over his shoulder for a few minutes. ‘I am, and always will be, yours,’ he said finally; his thoughts sounding a little sad.

‘And mine,’ Draco added as if Harry needed reminding, all things considered.

Snape, however, shook his head and moved towards Draco, offering him the potion.

‘You found a cure?’ Draco asked, struggling to sit up as Harry shifted obligingly.

“Actually,” Snape said, managing to focus just on Draco’s face at last, “you provided the clue.”

To this, Draco made no comment but swallowed the potion quietly and then lay down again. This, of course, left Snape with no excuse to remain in the room but still his feet didn’t seem inclined to walk him out the door.

‘S-stay,’ Draco suggested with just a little hesitancy to his telepathic voice as Harry resumed his earlier activity. Having been on the receiving end, Snape could definitely sympathise; Harry was quite adept and that wicked, agile tongue…

‘So stay,’ Draco said again, gazing up at him with a dreamy expression. ‘Join us if that’s what you want to do.’

Whatever Snape wanted, however, he wasn’t about to give in to his own body’s demands, just like that.

‘Stubborn,’ Harry noted, flicking a glance at him.

“Has it perhaps occurred to you, Mr Potter, that this...” he gestured feebly, whilst shifting a little to relieve the insistent throb, “...may no longer be necessary?”

Harry lifted his head and then sat up to gaze thoughtfully at Draco. Within two minutes, though, Draco’s eyes started to glaze and his hands twitched involuntarily; moving to capture Harry again.

“I think that answers your question,” Harry replied and took Draco’s hands in his before pinning them to the bed. As he recommenced his earlier activity of licking and nibbling at the pale skin covering Draco’s hip, he asked silently, ‘Does this mean the potion isn’t working?’

“No,” Snape sighed, “it’s designed to draw the initial potion into a state where Draco can work it out of his system. I suspect nothing will completely nullify it; I’ve simply made it safer.”

‘So this is necessary,’ Harry stated and closed his eyes as he took Draco into his mouth once more.

“So it would seem,” Snape murmured. He was suddenly too hot – almost as if he too were feeling the effects of Goyle’s illegal potion – and, without meaning to, he lingered for a few more minutes; almost hypnotised by the way that Harry moved; by the way that Draco sighed and relaxed beneath him; and by the steady, purple gaze that fixed him to the spot.

‘Take him,’ Draco instructed very softly.

He didn’t bother to add that this was what Snape wanted; after all, there was no need; both he and Harry could feel the arousal coursing through the Potions master. He didn’t elaborate or suggest anything further at all but simply waited; once he’d spoken, the rest was up to Snape.

“This surely must be the script from a trashy Muggle porn film,” Snape muttered sourly, but found himself stepping out of his shoes.

Draco smirked at him but said nothing. Instead he just watched as Snape absently slid his shirt off his shoulders and moved to undo his trousers. There was a moment, just as the Potions master slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts, when he looked uncertainly at Harry. After all, he thought suddenly, what right did he have to just take?

‘You’re only taking what’s been on offer since before Christmas,’ Harry responded and with that, he shifted around so that he was resting on knees and elbows at a right angle to Draco’s stretched body.

The air within Snape’s bedroom was heavy with the scent of sex and tingling with sexual tension. Snape could feel the hopeless desire within his ward but also, he realised, he was picking up a similar sense of lust from Harry. Certainly, he noted, there was nothing hesitant about Harry’s erection that curved heavily beneath his belly. And Harry’s current position, with his smooth, rounded backside in the air, was just too erotic for words. Snape swallowed with an audible gulp before giving in and pushing his shorts and trousers to the floor.

“If Albus hears about this…” he began under his breath.

‘I’ll tell him you were doing it for me.’ Draco finished.

‘And just how does me screwing Harry help you?’ Snape demanded silently. Nevertheless, however, he walked naked around the bed and finally knelt on the edge of the mattress, placing his hands on Harry’s slender hips.

And there, just there, he hesitated one last time and directed his thoughts to Harry; ‘Are you sure? Are you certain?’ He was so much older than Harry and, despite all of Harry’s insistence at Christmas, it really wasn’t acceptable for a man in his late thirties to take a boy in his mid-teens.

‘Do you love me?’ Harry asked, startling him. The question was asked without guile and without any kind of secret agenda; the man simply wanted clarification after their exchange of words on Monday, he realised.

The answer was supplied at once though and without actual, conscious thought. In a surge, a wave of emotions transferred from one man to the other and, for just one moment, Harry pulled away from Draco, bowed his head and rested his cheek against Draco’s right thigh.

“God, Severus,” he whispered with a little catch in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” Sev murmured, apologising for everything: for sending him away, for hurting him, for the long, cold silences without words, thoughts or emotions. And, he thought finally, for not being stronger; but then, given that this was what Harry had been asking for all along, was it really wrong that he was weak?

He stroked a long-fingered hand down Harry’s back in a gentle, loving caress and then drew his fingers down over one smooth buttock. At the same time, he stretched out his other hand to his bedside cabinet and summoned the phial of lubricant from the drawer.

“I’m certain,” Harry said then, answering his earlier question as a well-coated finger slid down towards his entrance. “I love you.”

*~*~*

He sat on the edge of his bed, head in hands, and cursed himself for being three types of fool. Fool to think that Daniel wouldn’t recognise his associates; fool to think that, even if he did recognise them, Daniel could be persuaded to stay; and fool for letting the younger man storm out of his life!

To the last, with the image of Daniel’s departing figure firmly in the forefront of his mind, Lucius drew a shuddering breath and snarled sulphurously at himself. What had he been thinking? So what if his fellow Death Eaters were gossiping about him? Who cared what they thought anyway? And if any of them had tried to attack Daniel, wouldn’t he have been perfectly entitled to dissuade them?

But no. Lucius had put them first and had jeopardised everything with Daniel…

In silence, his hands slid up into his hair and then scrunched two painful fistfuls of blond strands; pulling hard until the pain of his scalp overwhelmed the pain in his chest.

He was an imbecile, a moron, an idiot who had made a decision and had opted for the wrong choice.

Now, he thought with a long, deep sigh, he needed to think how best to correct his mistakes. And to help him do just that, he summoned a bottle of vodka and tilted his head back as he took the first swallow.

*~*~*

Awbridge was hardly a village, Daniel thought absently to himself; really it was little more than a network of criss-crossing lanes, wide fields, the odd house and a solitary pub. And the pub, at half-past five in the morning was of course closed.

Daniel didn’t care, though; he wasn’t here to drink. Turning away from the building, he then looked up the long lane with its grass banks, hedgerows and ditches on either side. Up this lane, just before you reached the woods, was Thomas’ old house.

He wasn’t sure that he wanted to be here; wasn’t even sure quite what he was going to do. It just seemed right that he should come.

At this time of day the world seemed to belong solely to him. There was no one around, no cars, no dog-walkers and hardly any signs of life at all. The birds were mostly quiet, nothing stirred in the hedgerows. In fact, save for a slight breeze in the treetops and his footsteps on the road, there was very little sound at all.

It took him perhaps twenty minutes of steady walking to reach Thomas and Liselle’s old house. It stood, tall and empty, set a little way from the road with its long, neglected garden at the back, stretching down to where the woods began. The woods were going to be Oscar’s domain, Thomas had told him last year with a more than a hint of pride. Even at two, the boy had liked nothing better than escaping his mother’s watchful eye to go and explore the muddy track that led down into the forest.

Daniel sighed, forcing himself to remember the good times that had filled this place. Focus on the good times; don’t dwell on what was never going to happen. And don’t think about the Death Eaters.

He didn’t know how long the house would remain empty; how long before the landlord could tempt in new tenants; tenants with no knowledge of the crimes that had been committed here.

The police had closed the case. As he understood from Alison and Jenna, they had believed that Thomas was a murderer and that he’d somehow committed suicide after another killing spree in Cumbria. The muggle papers had been rife with stories, rumours and lies and, whilst it had gnawed incessantly at Tom’s family, they knew the truth and, really, what could they do?

Finally summoning the courage, Daniel stepped across the front garden and went in through the front door. It was time to apologise to his little brother, to tell him he was sorry for taking up with Voldemort’s favourite. It was time to say goodbye properly.

*~*~*

There were very few occasions when Severus Snape was without thoughts or speech. But here, buried deep inside his lover, feeling the younger man tense and clench around him as each deep thrust brushed over his prostate, Severus found himself lost for words.

‘How about ‘more’?’ Harry suggested silently, still suckling on Draco’s cock, ‘How about ‘deeper’, ‘harder’…ah! Yes, there!’

Severus gave a short grunt, smiled a tight, grim little smile and tightened his hold on Harry’s hips. To the side, he felt Draco’s eyes on him; drinking in the sight of the Potions master and Harry.

Aware of everything that Harry was feeling, Draco lifted a hand off the bed and closed his fingers around Harry’s cock, fisting it in time with Severus’ thrusts.

“Oh god, yeah…!” Harry groaned aloud, pulling back from Draco for a moment. He nudged the blond man’s thighs apart then and lowered his head to lick and suck at his balls, causing Draco’s hips to lift involuntarily.

And then suddenly they were shifting, changing position. Severus suspected that the request had been from Draco, although no words had been spoken or thought; there was simply an air of want and need and desire. And Harry was pulling away from him, sliding off his cock with a bone-deep groan and then crawling across the bed until he was kneeling between Draco’s thighs.

Bright green eyes met the Potion master’s gaze for a moment and then Snape followed; kneeling behind Harry and then entering him once more in a slow, easy slide that made both of them pant and gasp for a few precious seconds. And then... and then...

Taking Draco by the hips, Harry guided the other man’s arse into his lap and, with a moment or two of awkward shifting, entered him with another groan. Just when, Snape wondered absently, did Harry prepare Draco for this?

But then there was no room for thoughts. Harry was moving, thrusting into Draco’s body, holding onto the blond man’s thighs as Draco lifted his legs and rested them over Harry’s shoulders. And all Severus could do was push further into Harry’s body and wrap his arms around the younger man’s torso.

And so, after a minute of careful adjusting, they began a series of three-way thrusts, shoves and slow, wonderful pulls. Pressing his lips to the back of Harry’s neck, Severus closed his eyes with a shaky murmur of passionate endearments. This was where he needed to be; this was where he’d longed to be for so many months. And the sight of Draco taking his own cock in hand, coupled with the shift and slide of Harry’s body was just too much and he doubted if he’d last for very long.

In the end though, Draco came first; arching his back and opening his mouth in a silent howl of intense pleasure. Harry pushed harder, faster and Severus almost lost his rhythm. Harry was nearly there, hovering on the brink with his lip between his teeth and his breath coming in gasps when he happened to glance down and see the Dark Mark on Severus’ arm.

‘This isn’t right,’ his telepathic voice filled Snape’s head and for a moment he was confused. What wasn’t right? This? Sex with a man old enough to be his father and another man who was high on drugs? No shit! But then he realised that Harry was frowning at the Dark Mark, even as he continued to thrust and roll his hips.

Something happened then. Light and sound faded out for a minute and all Snape knew was that he was so close, so close and he was shouting as the sensations escalated and thank Merlin that his bedroom was shielded right now! In front of him, clasped tightly to his sweat-damp chest, Harry too was reaching climax and he thrust ever deeper into Draco’s body. And this, all this, was wild and exhilarating but it was nothing compared to the sudden flare of magic that surrounded them.

“Mine,” Harry growled, speaking silently and aloud. “Both of you – you’re mine! Not Voldemort’s, not Dumbledore’s, not Fudge’s. You’re mine and I love you. God, I love you!”

“Yes!” Snape found himself agreeing in a low growl. His dick pulsed and throbbed and he gasped as his senses went into momentary overload. “Yours. Mine. Draco’s.”

At the very instant of mutual orgasm, Harry took his right hand off Draco’s hip and covered Snape’s Dark Mark. “Mine,” he growled and suddenly Severus was coming with a sharp cry of pleasure and pain. The pain shot through the Dark Mark and lanced up to his shoulder. The mixture was extreme and intoxicating; he hovered for a moment in a state of euphoria, the shared gold rings flared for a second and then...

...then all was in darkness.