The Price of Infatuation

*~*~*~*
Harry’s mind was in turmoil as Severus pulled him through a doorway he had never noticed before and down a short hallway leading to Severus’ personal suite of rooms. He knew the Potions Master’s actions were only the result of Pansy’s mysterious potion and not the result of any actual feelings toward him, but the young wizard was starved for affection and the older wizard did seem determined to provide it.

Thinking that he would never find someone who would want him for being “Just Harry” and not the thrice-damned “Boy Who Lived”, Harry decided he would accept whatever affection Severus would give him and hope that the man would not hate him when his senses returned.

*~*~*~*
The fire in the fireplace roared to life and a quickly cast charm warmed the bedding, helping to take the chill out of the small dungeon bedroom. Almost devoid of decoration, the room was filled with a massive antique oak four-poster bed and an equally massive armoire. Oriental carpet runners did little to soften the cold stone floor.

Severus indicated that Harry should get into the bed and was amused when Harry shyly obeyed, pulling the bedding up to his chin. Large green eyes, glowing with an emotion he could not read, watched Severus disrobe, layer by layer until only the tall, thin, muscular form remained.

He set a vial of the blue gel on a small bedside table; Harry recognized it as one of the items they had brewed earlier that day. The Potions Master slowly folded down Harry’s “protective” bedding until it was in a neat accordion fold at the foot of the bed. Unlike earlier, Harry made no attempt to cover himself or to bolt.

The dark wizard slid into the bed beside Harry, propping himself on one elbow as his other hand gently examined his mate. He ran his long, potion stained fingers across Harry’s lips and jaw, played with the shell of one of his ears and trailed across the hollow of his throat. Harry’s breath hitched as the hand continued its journey, caressing his shoulder, his chest, the protrusions of his ribcage, the bones of his hips. He brought the hand back up and curled around his shoulder, drawing Harry into a violently possessive kiss. He nipped at the sweet lower lip until it opened, permitting entrance, and he proceeded to claim the slight wizard’s tongue as well.

Another wave of arousal coursed through Severus. Mine, his body screamed, mine. Still kissing hungrily, he rolled himself on top of the smaller man; the full body contact was almost too much for his artificially stimulated system.

He broke away from Harry’s lips and attacked his face, his neck, and his shoulder. His hips slowly rocked and his arousal grew; he could feel Harry harden beneath him. Harry growled in frustration as Severus shifted his hips away, breaking contact; the tall man wanted to prolong the pleasure.

Severus smiled inwardly as Harry nibbled gently on his ear lobe and pulled his hair free from the restrictive ponytail. He noticed that some of the fear that had consumed his mate had abated. Still nervous and uncertain, Harry tentatively began to reciprocate Severus’ attentions.

Harry’s thumbs made slow circles on the tall wizard’s nipples and he nipped playfully at the tender spot where neck met shoulder. Severus’ body was on overload; his body could not handle Harry’s gentle foreplay. The Potion Master caught Harry’s hands and pushed them to his sides; he pulled away from the tantalizing mouth.

“Pro…Severus?” Harry asked in confusion.

Severus sat up and moved to a kneeling position between Harry’s legs. His hands ran long strokes up the thin, muscular thighs. Harry inhaled sharply, his erection standing proudly. The dark wizard traced the sparse trail of hair down Harry’s chest, across his abdomen and into the thicker nest below.

“I need you, Baby. I need to be in you…”

Harry looked into the dark eyes and saw the lust building. Those gentle hands made him feel wonderful. Severus’ hands stroked his thighs and hips, never touching his erection.

“Can I take you, my pretty baby?” Severus’ hand wrapped loosely around Harry’s cock and his thumb rubbed the pre cum at the tip. “I think you want me too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered.

*~*~*~*~*
A soft sound broke in Harry’s throat as a long, thin and well-lubricated finger breached his entrance. The finger slid in and out, each time penetrating a little deeper. When Severus felt Harry relax into the strokes, he added a second lubricated finger. Harry keened and tried to pull back.

Severus began to stroke his erection as a distraction, the same rhythm as the fingers. He would not ask the slight wizard if it was uncomfortable or if he wanted him to stop because Severus knew he would be unable to stop. It was taking all of his strength to properly prepare his partner and not just take him.

Severus continued to pump Harry as he added a third finger into the tight channel. The sprite’s whimper of discomfort gave way to pleasure as Severus stroked his sweet spot. Harry arched off the bed; the dual pleasures Severus provided caused him to explode in orgasm. Harry panted as he came down from his powerful climax.

The Potions Master could wait no longer; seeing his companion lost in passion took the last of his self-control. He summoned a warm, wet cloth and wiped Harry clean. Harry pulled him down for a kiss.

“Get on your hands and knees, pretty one.”

Severus caught the slight look of apprehension as Harry scrambled to his knees. He was too aroused to care.

Harry blushed as he rested his warm face on his folded arms, his backside up in the air; what an undignified position, he thought as Severus pushed his knees farther apart. All thoughts of dignity disappeared when Severus grasped his hip; a moment later pain shot through Harry as the head of Severus’ well lubricated cock breached the tight ring of muscles.

Harry cried out; he had expected discomfort like the fingers had provided, not the sudden burning pain. The older man rubbed his back in a comforting motion as he pulled out, entering again slowly, time and time again, each time a little deeper. With one final push, he was buried to the hilt; Severus leaned over his back and, using his superior height, kissed his neck. Harry’s entire body was covered in a cold sweat.

“It’s done, Pretty Baby.” Severus breathed heavily into his ear. “It’s done.”

He waited just a moment for Harry to adjust to him before he began a steady rhythm, angling himself to hit the sweet spot. Harry’s pain mutated into pleasure and he found himself pushing back to meet Severus’ thrusts. Pulling all the way out and thrusting back with a long, smooth pace, deeper and deeper, hearing cries of pleasure. He reached around, feeling Harry’s reawakened erection and he pumped in rhythm to his thrusts.

Harry’s second orgasm tore through his body, the spasms causing his channel to tighten in pulses. Severus, seeking his own release, grasped both hips tightly and began to thrust harder. His own release flooding deep inside Harry, he collapsed being careful not to crush the small man beneath him.

As they both lay beside one another, Severus’ long arm pulling Harry’s back against his chest, it occurred to him that he had perhaps taken his virgin mate a little roughly.

Severus kissed the back of Harry’s sweat soaked neck. He murmured a quick cleaning charm on both them and the bedding and reached down, pulling the neatly accordioned bedding over them.

When Harry was strangely quiet, Severus pushed up slightly so he could see the other’s face. Harry smiled shyly.

“Did I hurt you, Baby?”

Harry didn’t answer. He just nuzzled against the older wizard’s chest.

*~*~*~*~*
Severus awoke in the middle of the night, fully aroused. He listened to the soft breathing of the figure beside him and the desire to possess him made itself known. Disentangling himself from the younger man’s arms and legs, Severus sat up and examined his sleeping mate in the glow of the fireplace. Delicate features of a young man too old to be a child and not yet coarse enough to be a man, the long black eyelashes fanned out over the cheeks of the too thin face.

The man pulled away the bedding and let his eyes roam up his sleeping partner, licking his lips to moisten them. He liked the awkward, coltishness of his mate and could see the lines of the man he would become and wondered, vaguely, why he had chosen a mate so young.

Harry, noticing the loss of the warm bedding, reached around for them, still asleep. Severus caught his questing hand and kissed him on the wrist. The young man murmured something intelligible.

Severus shifted on the bed and moved one of Harry’s legs so that he was between them. He liberally coated his arousal with lubrication and pumped himself several times until he was fully hard. He lifted Harry’s ankles and rested them on his shoulders; Harry started, but did not awaken. Adding additional lubrication, Severus inserted two fingers into Harry’s puckered opening and determined that the channel was still relaxed.

Harry’ awoke, eyes wide in shock, as Severus thrust deeply into him, burying himself to the hilt on the first stroke. A choked cry escaped from the slight wizard and his open mouth was claimed by Severus’ tongue.

*~*~*~*
In the afterglow that followed, Severus pulled Harry into his arms, his head on his chest; Harry listened to the soft thump of the older wizard’s heart. Slowly, Severus ran his fingers through the slight wizard’s hair and down his warm bare back. The soft caress and the melodic heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

Severus slowly dropped off to sleep, comforted by the warm body in his arms. His fogged memory was starting to clear, but he pushed it away, not wanting to encourage the headache teasing at the corners of his mind.

Several hours later Harry awoke with a start, the reality of the evening sinking in. Snuggled into the comfort of the Potion Master’s arms, his mind was in overdrive; how could he have been so selfish as to take advantage of the man in his drugged state? Harry was disgusted with himself and his shattered self-confidence took another tumble.

Harry slipped out of the bed, wincing at the ache in his backside. His heart skipped when Severus, mumbling something incoherent reached for him before curling into the warm pillow. He gently kissed the sleeping man’s forehead.

“Good bye Severus,” Harry whispered as his bare feet hurried over the cold dungeon floor. He made his way back to the classroom where his clothing remained strewn in the floor and tabletops. The first rays of the dawn cast an eerie glow into the potions workroom. Quickly, he slipped on his clothing; he was missing a sock but he pulled on his short boot anyway.

“Accio wand.” He held out his hand and his wand flew into it. “Lumos.”

By the faint light of his wand, Harry gathered up his book bag and sweater. In his haste to leave, he never noticed that some of the contents of his book bag had spilled onto the dungeon floor. Still unable to break the locking charm on the door, Harry returned quietly to Severus’ bedchamber and flooed himself into the Gryffindor Common Room where he found Professor Dumbledore waiting for him.

*~*~*~*
Severus slowly awoke, reluctant to end his wonderful dream. The flash of floo powder startled him. His body ached in a most delicious way and his pillow carried a scent that was not his own. Clearing the cobwebs of sleep, he shrugged off the dull ache behind his eyes.

Why was he nude, he wondered. He always slept in a nightshirt to ward off the dungeon chill. Memory was coming back in fragments. His last clear thought was of drinking the tea Pansy had brought him and that there was something wrong with it. Then a memory drifted by of startled green eyes and pulling a small half-dressed form away from a locked door.

Severus wrapped his tall, thin body up in a warm bathrobe and slid his feet into wool scuffs. He felt a draft; the door leading to his workroom was ajar and he never left the doors open. His dream apparently was not a dream; someone had been in his rooms and from the ache in his thighs, had been entertained in his bed.

Wand drawn, he illuminated his workroom before entering it. The room was a haphazard collection of freshly bottled potions, potions stopped in mid-brew, piles of raw ingredients, and most unusual, dirty cauldrons, ladles and mortars. He walked over to a workbench that was clear except for three vials and a blood stained knife. Pale skin punctured by the blade flashed before him, blood caught in a vial. Merlin, what had he done?

Stepping toward the teapot and half-filled mug, his foot kicked something solid. He bent down and picked up a bundle held together with elastic bands. He recognized it at once; he had seen Harry with it many times.

Harry.

Memory shards flooded over the Potion Master. Harry had spent yesterday afternoon helping him brew potions and salves for the Infirmary. He was still there when Pansy brought her usual offering of tea, but the tea had an off flavor to it. Kissing Harry, Pansy kissing him. Sealing Harry into the workroom, pinning him to the workbench, stripping off his clothes, touching him, tasting him, and taking him.

Severus sank to the floor, the packet clutched in his hands and the soft echo of “first time with anyone” freezing a lump in his stomach. Under the influence of whatever potion Pansy brewed, had he raped a student, raped a virgin, raped…a friend?

Knees drawn up, he leaned back against the sturdy workbench, ignoring the chill dampness permeating through the dressing gown. He wasn’t sure how long he sat, staring into space, the night’s events coming into focus. He was barely aware of the wards sealing the door being breached and he jumped when a hand lightly touched his shoulder.

“Severus,” Albus Dumbledore said quietly. “You need to shower and shave. They will be serving breakfast soon…”

“Albus, I…”

Albus frowned at the broken tone of the man’s voice. The old wizard was angry, but not at Severus and certainly not at Harry. He picked up a 6th Year Transfiguration book beside his foot and set it on the tabletop. He didn’t need to open the cover to know who it belonged to.

*~*~*~*
Severus stared at the flames, safely ensconced in his favorite chair beside his sitting room fireplace sipping a cup of tea he had brewed himself. The meeting with Albus had caused as many questions as it had answers.

Pansy had been sent to St. Mungo’s Hospital for a complete psychological work up; she would not be welcome back at Hogwarts anytime soon. Frantic that her parents had arranged an unwanted marriage contract with the parents of Adrian Pucey, a recently graduated Slytherin, her mild infatuation with her head of house had taken a dangerous turn. Not only had she brewed an obscure, possibly dark, love potion; she had also brewed and ingested a fertility potion. When Severus had ignored her advances, she decided to drug him, have intercourse with him and, after he had impregnated her, force him to marry her to prevent scandal.

Severus shuddered to think what his future would be had the plan succeeded although he was fairly certain that Pansy’s father would have forced a quiet abortion rather hand face the greater scandal of a public wedding between student and teacher.

Harry’s reaction was a mystery to him. He had only seen the slight wizard at meals and they were at opposite ends of the table; any interaction between them was stilted. Albus had met with him privately and said only that Harry did not blame him and refused to press assault charges against either Severus or Pansy. Albus indicated that Harry felt guilty, that he had somehow taken advantage of Severus in his drugged state, but that could not be right. He had trapped the young wizard and forced himself on him, that he was under the influence of a potion was of no consequence. What he had taken from the young man was precious; something to be given to a lover and it could not be replaced.

But the question remained. What had made him choose Harry over Pansy?

~*~*~*~*
Curiosity winning out, Severus removed the elastic bands holding the racing broom catalogs, the Muggle notebook and the odd Muggle device with the numbered keypad. Calculator, he corrected himself; the odd device was a calculator. Muggles used them to do mathematics instead of the abacus wizards used. He pushed the “ON” button and punched in a few numbers. It was much quicker than his abacus. Maybe he would ask Harry or Hermione how to purchase one; it would make calculating potion measurements easier.

He set aside the catalogs, noting folded down corners on some. The notebook was filled with brief notations and lists of figures. Tucked between the pages in bound manila pockets were receipts, Gringotts Bank statements and odd correspondence. Severus realized it was a financial ledger of some sort, a budget.

He closed the book; it was really none of his business. He set it on the table beside his chair and began to peruse the racing broom catalogs. His own broom was an older model, a Cleansweep Eight. It was sufficient for his needs. With the exception of refereeing an odd Quidditch match, he rarely flew, preferring to apparate, floo or portkey himself to where he needed to be.

Harry had made notations beside several of the brooms, analyzing the strengths and weaknesses. It was obvious he thought highly of the Firebolt, a relatively new broom on the market. He also had given high marks to several in the Nimbus line as well. Cleansweep appeared to have branched into the family market; their only racing broom was a student model for beginning flyers. There were several other catalogs featuring North American brooms and one written in Japanese, but Harry had no comments or folded pages in them.

Severus picked up the notebook again, studying it. It was Harry’s personal budget and it surprised him that a sixteen year old would have such a comprehensive package, until it occurred to him that Harry was, in reality, a liberated minor and, as such, responsible for all his financial necessities. He had no adult in his life to handle financial transactions for him.

Curiosity won again over guilt as he began to study the pages of numbers. Looking at several of the notations, Severus realized that Harry was not as financially secure as he had assumed him to be. Harry not only had his current spending listed, he also had tentative budgets mapped out for the next five years. His list of expenses and cost estimates were precise – Hogwarts tuition, books and supplies, clothing, gifts, food and medical costs for his owl and incidentals. He had estimated the cost of supporting himself for the summer holiday between his sixth and seventh year and for three years post graduation – long enough to establish a career.

A surprise notation indicated that Harry was a silent partner in the Weasley twins joke shop venture; Severus was pleased to see a slight return on that dubious investment.

Under Harry’s list of necessities, Severus was sobered to see a monthly withdrawal to subsidize Remus Lupin’s Wolfsbane Potion and a small stipend supporting his godfather Sirius Black, who was still on the run and had had all his assets frozen by the Ministry.

The Potion Master snorted when he saw several pounds budgeted to provide yarn for Dobby, the independent house elf.

Harry even had a wish list. Most of the items were small – Quidditch gloves, a wrist watch, specific book titles, new shoes – but there were several other items listed on another list, a dream list. On that list was the Firebolt. Thin lines ran through several small items and others had prices penciled beside them.

Severus summoned his abacus and rechecked Harry’s figures. He came up with the same conclusion the younger wizard must have made. He now knew why Harry was using a refurbished school broom. Based on the projected income and expenditures, there was not enough money for something as extravagant and unnecessary as a racing broom.

The professor gathered up the catalogs, notebook and calculator and refastened the elastic bands. He placed the bundle on top of Harry’s Transfiguration book. He would ask a house elf to deliver them to Harry’s room. Unconsciously casting a spell to reheat his cold tea, Severus stared into the fire; now that he no longer viewed the green eyed wizard through a filter of hatred, he was saddened to think that he had added one more burden to the slim shoulders.

He thought back to Harry’s wish list; Christmas was in two days. An idea began to take shape in his mind.

*~*~*~*
The snow was falling lightly as Harry entered the Great Hall for breakfast. He nodded in greeting to Professor Dumbledore and Severus before sitting at the other end, across from Hagrid and several First Years. The hall was sparkling in its Christmas finery. If anyone noticed Pansy was missing, they didn’t mention it.

Being Christmas Eve Day, Dumbledore had a list of activities planned for the children and today, not even Severus, was totally exempt from the festivities. The snow sculpture contest quickly dissolved into a snowball fight with Hagrid, Harry and Terry Boot taking on all the remaining children. Headmaster Dumbledore watched delightedly from the sidelines and Professor Snape headed into the dungeons to brew several medicinal potions to prevent colds and the flu.

To the house elves amusement, the activities moved into the kitchen for hot chocolate and baking gingerbread men. Severus proved to be as adept in cooking as he was at potions. Albus was pleased that after the initial shock wore off, the children seemed to enjoy the uncharacteristic behavior of the stoic Potions Master.

*~*~*~*
Tucked in a window seat, Harry stared out a window in the deserted Great Hall. The early snow had all but stopped and the stars shone brightly in the Christmas Eve sky. He absentmindedly sipped on a mug of hot chocolate Dobby had brought him.

The headmaster was reading Christmas stories to the younger students, already in their nightclothes and snuggled into couches in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Harry had slipped away early on; he was alone for Christmas and, between the holiday and the situation with Severus, he was depressed.

For several wonderful hours he had known what it felt like to be loved, to be desired and knowing that it was all an illusion made the loneliness ache in his heart even more. Severus had called him “Pretty Baby”. He had never been anyone’s “Baby” before, pretty or otherwise. Thinking back, Severus never called him by name; had the professor even known who he was making love to?

Harry laughed hollowly. Making love. He had not been made love to; he had been merely fucked into the mattress by a man drugged with a dark arts aphrodisiac.

Harry looked out the window one last time before making his way to the deserted Gryffindor Tower. He pulled on his flannel nightshirt and crawled into bed. He curled into a tight ball, shivering into the ice-cold sheets and wishing he had remembered to perform a warming charm on them. The slight wizard never even acknowledged the small Christmas tree the house elves had placed in the corner of his dorm room. Several packages from his godfather and his friends were tucked beneath the branches.

*~*~*~*
Severus crept into the Gryffindor boys’ sixth year dormitory. Quietly he tucked a gift beneath the small tree. Harry was asleep, his face illuminated in the soft glow of the fairy lights. The tall wizard examined the delicate features, a dull ache in his chest. Harry rolled over, the heavy duvet slipping from his shoulder.

Gently Severus brushed back the wild black hair before tucking the bedding back over his shoulders.

“Nox,” Severus whispered as he extinguished the lights on the Christmas tree, plunging the room into darkness.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.”

*~*~*~*
The scent of cinnamon tickled Harry’s nose. Slowly he stretched and opened one bleary eye to the mid morning light. A breakfast tray with a self-warming charm sat on a low table beside the Christmas tree.
The low rumble in his stomach was persistent. He crawled out of bed, wrapping his duvet around himself and shuffled over to a chair.

When had the tree gotten there, he wondered and lit the fairy lights with a soft “Lumos”. Presents, he thought and smiled, remembering back to his first Hogwarts Christmas when he was eleven. He lifted the dome on the tray, the scent of cinnamon even stronger - scrambled eggs, several fat sausages, and toast, butter, jam and cinnamon scones. A small carafe held juice and a tea cozy warmed a medium sized teapot. Tucked beside the silverware was a small lumpy package tied in a few lengths of bright yarn.

Harry unwrapped the parcel and laughed. Dobby had knitted him another pair of socks – one red and gold striped, the other maroon and white checked. He quickly pulled them on his cold bare feet, the wool soft and warm against his toes.

Nibbling on his breakfast, he looked at the small collection of gifts beneath the tree. Any other year he would have had them all unwrapped before even thinking of food, but today he wanted to savor the moment a little longer.

Hermione had gotten him a Muggle book called “Investing Your Assets in a Turbulent Market” and a fountain pen with cartridges. He flipped through the investment book; Hermione thought he made a mistake bank rolling the Weasley twins business venture, but she understood his motivation.

There were the usual joke gifts from his dorm mates – bizarre flavored candy, t-shirts with questionable phrases and boxer shorts with atrocious patterns. He set the Blood Pops aside with a shudder; maybe one of Hagrid’s odd assortment of acquaintances would like them.

Ron and Ginny gave him Quidditch gloves and a dozen Chocolate Frogs. Fred and George sent a few samples of their new products and a deposit slip for 37 galleons, his percentage of the profits.

He reached for a flat rectangular box. The gift card was in his godfather’s handwriting. He and Remus were in North America visiting several werewolf colonies for Dumbledore. A short note made him smile; Remus had been offered a teaching position by werewolf pack in Vermont. Harry hoped Remus would accept it; he loved to teach and, being with his own kind, would finally have no reason to fear the full moon or have to hide who he really was.

They had sent him several long sleeved black t-shirts imprinted with the names of obscure Muggle bands and a Muggle novel, “Dune” by Frank Herbert. A short note tucked inside was from Remus; he said Harry might recognize similarities to the characters portrayed in the book and wizards he knew.

Dumbledore had tucked a thin book on wandless magic into the gift basket of Honeydukes candy he gave all the students remaining for the holidays. Harry set the tin of Mrs. Weasley’s fudge and jam tarts beside it.

Only two gifts remained. He poked at a large lumpy package with apprehension. He knew it was his annual Weasley sweater and that it was a gift of love, but last year’s sweater had been a bright lime green. Harry turned back a corner and sighed in relief. This year’s sweater was knitted in black and green-flecked tweed wool. He might actually be able to wear this one in public.

The final package was a long cylinder wrapped in silver paper and tied in red ribbon. As he pulled the paper wrapped item inside the cylinder, it enlarged, and a gift tag fluttered to the floor. Harry stared in shock as a Firebolt racing broom emerged from the nest of paper.

He picked up the tag and recognized the precise handwriting at once. The note was brief and held no signature.

“In small compensation for my actions against you.”

Harry’s hands slowly caressed the smooth varnished handle; he could feel the power of the broom through his fingertips. Sadly, he set it aside and made his way to the showers.

*~*~*~*
Even though it was Christmas Day, Severus entered his office, intending to catch up on his correspondence. He was surprised to see the Firebolt racing broom lying across the arms of his chair. There was a note attached.

“Professor,
Thank you very much for the broom, but I cannot accept it.
Harry”

Severus sat the broom onto a clean corner of his desk and fingered the note in his hands.

*~*~*~*
Harry barely looked up as the door to the Sixth Year dormitory opened after 10:00 that evening. He was already tucked into bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows and reading the book on investments. He assumed it was Headmaster Dumbledore making his evening bed check.

The smile of welcome froze on his face as the tall, thin form of Professor Snape strode into the room, Firebolt in hand. The Potion Master placed it beneath the tree and turned to face Harry. His eyebrow arched; there was no mistaking the look of pain in the brilliant green eyes.

“I’m not a whore,” Harry whispered, shrinking into himself.

The statement caught Severus by surprise. “Who called you a whore?”

“You did.” Harry would not look at him. “You called it compensation…but it’s the same thing…only whores take payment for sex…”

Severus sat on the edge of the mattress and reached out, cupping the thin face in his hand and turning the sad eyes to face him. “I don’t think you’re a whore…I took something very precious from you and I…”

“You didn’t ‘take’ anything from me except my blood. I gave myself to you…I didn’t expect anything in return.”

Severus sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out what to say. His thin hands were flat on his thighs. Harry realized how vulnerable the man looked wearing just his trousers and a turtleneck; he didn’t have his bat like robes for protection.

Harry slipped from beneath the covers and sat beside the older wizard, tugging his red flannel nightshirt down to cover his legs. He touched the man’s shoulder; Severus looked at the floor and suddenly began to laugh. Sticking out from the hem of the nightshirt were Harry’s feet, still wearing the hideous hand knitted socks Dobby had made him.

Harry was startled by the laughter; he blushed when he followed the other man’s gaze. In embarrassment, Harry mumbled, “They were a Christmas gift from Dobby…he’s a house elf.”

Severus slipped off his dragon hide boots. On his feet were mismatched socks – one black and white stripped, the other a green and gray checkerboard. “The Headmaster insisted I wear them at least for the day…I believe he received a pair as well. I remember one was purple with black dots but I don’t remember what color the other one was.”

Dobby’s socks sparked a conversation that eased the tension between them. Severus reached into his trouser pocket and held out to Harry the two vials of blood and the third containing hair. “We need to destroy these…too many dangerous dark potions can be brewed with human blood.”

“What…what were you planning to brew with it? You didn’t tell me when you took it…” Harry did not take the vials.

Severus looked at the three vials in the palm of his hand. “I honestly have no idea…I would suspect, given the nature of Pansy’s potion…that I meant to bind you to me.”

Harry swallowed hard, one finger running over the surface of the vials.

*~*~*~*
“Severus.”

Severus looked at the slight wizard.

“I discovered something about the potion Pansy drugged you with…”

“The Cor Fyr?” Harry nodded. “It’s very old, very obscure. I don’t know how she found it.”

“The Restricted Section…I saw her put a book back on the shelves first day of the holidays.”

“And you didn’t think to tell anyone?”

“Severus, it’s me. Harry. As many times as I’ve been in the Restricted Section without permission over the years…who am I to report anyone? Any way…about the Cor Fyr…’

Harry tentatively began to kiss Severus’ shoulder and ran his hand lightly up the man’s back. The dark wizard turned toward him and he gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.

“…You couldn’t have raped me…there is something about the potion…it made you desperate to claim me, to protect me…but it would not have permitted you to hurt me.”

Severus smiled a rare smile. “You’ve done your research…but why did I pick you over Pansy?”

“Curiosity.” Harry kissed him again and slowly slid his tongue into Severus’ mouth. Severus let out a soft moan and laid back into the bed, pulling Harry with him. He rolled the slight wizard beneath him. Harry felt safe, pinned to the mattress by the man’s warmth and weight.

Severus kissed and caressed the slim body, but made no effort to undress him. This time they would take it slow, at a pace not to threaten Harry. Harry deepened the kiss and tangled his fingers in the long black hair. After a moment, Severus broke off and propped himself up, taking some weight off the smaller man.

“Curiosity about what?”

“About me…you’ve been studying me…examining me. You love to watch me fly…” A light of realization sparked in Harry’s eyes. “That’s why you gave me the Firebolt. The Cleansweep is too slow and clumsy.”

“Yes…Does it bother you…that I watch you?” The dark man asked.

“No…I have probably been watching you almost as long as you’ve been watching me…” Harry placed a quick kiss at Severus’ throat. “And I love your voice.”

“And Pansy?”

“You never looked back…she held no interest for you.”

Harry snuggled up against the older wizard and found himself wrapped in the long thin arms, head tucked beneath his chin. Severus lightly traced the contour of Harry’s face with a potion stained finger.

“Severus?” Harry asked quietly; Harry had been so still the older wizard had thought him asleep. “The other night…did you even know it was me you were fucking?”

Severus could hear the ache in Harry’s voice, the need for human affection. He exhaled slowly before answering.

“On some level, I must have known it was you…but no…the need to claim you as my mate was too strong…I’m very sorry…”

“I thought not…you never called me by my name.”

“I must have called you something.”

“Baby…you called me Pretty Baby.”

Severus snorted. “Pretty…Baby. Definitely the potion…I don’t believe I have ever used those words to describe you in my life.”

“Insufferable brat…foolish Gryffindor, idiot boy…” Severus silenced him with a kiss. He moved Harry aside and sat up, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed.

“It’s late. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Stay with me. No one will know.”

“No. If we are going to attempt a relationship, it will not be based solely on sexual attraction. As you said earlier, you are not a whore…and I will never treat you as such.” Severus glanced at the racing broom. “Will you accept the Firebolt as a thank you for all the assistance you’ve given me in the potions lab?”

*~*~*~*
Headmaster Dumbledore glanced at his pocket watch. It was after midnight and he still needed to complete his bed check of the remaining students. Usually he made his checks around 10:00, but a homesick Hufflepuff First Year whose tears had triggered bouts of homesickness in two others had detained him.

The old wizard quietly opened the door to the Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady had assured him that Harry was safely ensconced inside and that Professor Snape had checked on him earlier that evening.

Since he had already climbed the stairs to the tower, Dumbledore decided he might as well check on the young man. He quietly opened the door to the dorm room and crept toward the bed. In the moonlight, he could make out Harry’s tousled black hair. Clutched in his arms was a racing broom. The old wizard gently extracted it from the young man’s arms and propped it against the bedside table. Harry murmured a soft protest and rolled over, snuggling into the warmth of the bedclothes.

*~*~*~*
Severus wrapped his winter cloak tighter to his throat as he watched Harry shoot through the three Quidditch goal hoops in quick succession. The January morning was frigid and he wondered how much colder it must be up in the air; Harry would need every bit of the warming charm he had cast that morning.

So mesmerized by Harry pulling out of his third perfect Wronski Feint, Severus did not hear the approach of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team until he heard a soft exclamation beside him.

“Merlin,” Ron whispered under his breath. ‘ He’s bloody marvelous…”

“Yes, he is.” Severus agreed as he nodded briefly to the gathered students and returned to the warmth of the castle, never noticing the look of shock on the red head’s face.

*~*~*~*
FIN