Centre of Twilight

It had been almost a week since Voldemort had attacked Harry, using his dreams and telepathy to force him to threaten his own life as well as Draco and Snape’s. It had also been almost a week since they’d worked the Nameless spell and almost a week since Harry had finally moved to put his past behind him and made love to Draco.

This week had been tricky in many ways, however. On Sunday evening, he’d successfully managed to convince Snape that he was too tired to try out his magical powers after the Namelss spell. And, the following evening, he’d claimed to be too wiped out again. But as the week had gone on, so Harry’s excuses had become increasingly thin and he was now fairly convinced that Snape could see right through him – even though he’d worked hard to bury his thoughts.

Add to that the fact that he’d been actively working to avoid casting any magic of any sort and Harry was exhausted. But, given that he was terrified of what the Nameless spell might have done (or not done, as the case may be), it was perhaps understandable for Harry to be cautious.

Right now, he was currently lying on the floor of Snape’s sitting room, trying to concentrate on the Potions book in front of him, but also struggling under a persistent headache that had been with him off and on all week. Draco, meanwhile was in the library; looking for a herbology book that would help him with his Potions assignment. Harry sighed; despite the fact that he had telepathic communication with his lover and Draco had only been gone forty-five minutes, he missed him.

The door opened behind him and, without looking over his shoulder, Harry knew it was Severus. The man’s presence in his mind was dark and compelling; when he was close, Harry found it impossible to ignore the man. But then, he thought, Draco was just as distracting; filling his head with molten quicksilver.

‘Did you see, Draco?’ He asked silently as the Potions master walked quietly towards his armchair.

“No.” Snape responded aloud, stretching and yawning. “I’ve just been supervising Mr Zabini’s final detention.” He said and sat down.

Harry rolled onto his back and wriggled around until his left foot was between Snape’s feet while his right leg was bent so that the ankle was resting against his left thigh. Once settled, he propped the Potions book against his legs and paused to smirk up at Snape. “So what did you make him do, tonight?”

Snape looked down at Harry, making no comment about his choice of position on the floor, then replied, “Well, he’d finished cleaning cauldrons on Wednesday and, last night, he skinned shrivel figs all evening.”

“Yes?” Harry’s smirk broadened.

“So tonight I made him clean the classroom after my first year Hufflepuff class made Enlarging Potions.” Snape finished, his eyes glittering.

“So evil.” Harry shook his head, looking immensely pleased and proud.

“Hm…I thought so; particularly when you consider that most of the class overdid the Hedera Helix, making the potions swell up and over the tops of their cauldrons.” Snape added with a smirk. “Mr Zabini seemed quite distressed about getting spilt potion on his over-polished shoes.”

“Shame.” Harry frowned with feigned concern.

“Quite.” Snape retorted and then drew his wand to summon a bottle of Laphroaig and a glass.

Harry raised an eyebrow. Really, Snape mused, if that boy remained with him any longer, he’d end up looking just like him; already, he was mimicking his expressions. “Has the day really been that bad?” Harry asked.

Snape frowned a little as he poured out a measure of the dark liquid and placed the green bottle on the floor beside his chair. “For your information, I have a headache. I’m hoping that this,” he waved the glass about to emphasise, “will take the edge off it.” He took a sip and then gave Harry a sardonic look, “Is that all right? Should I have perhaps asked your permission?”

Harry shook his head, looking pained. “Bloody hell, Severus, I was only asking. You don’t have to get so uptight, you know.” He paused for a second and then added, “And for the record, you’re not the only one to have a headache.”

Snape considered the young man for a long moment and then took another sip of his drink. “If that was your ploy to get a drink out of me, it was pathetic.” He growled.

Harry rolled his eyes and then returned his attention to his book. “I should’ve known better than to expect sympathy from you.” He grumbled.

“I believe you’ll find,” Snape retorted archly, “that ‘sympathy’ in the dictionary is between ‘shit’ and ‘syphilis’. And you, Harry, want none of it!”

Harry laughed, the sound erupting from him in surprise. “Excuse me?” he exclaimed.

“I think you heard me,” Snape replied with a smirk and then turned his head towards the door.

Feeling Draco’s presence too, Harry closed his book and gazed expectantly towards the door. However, it didn’t open immediately and Harry sent an enquiring thought out to his lover, ‘What’s up?’

There was a moment’s delay and then the door opened and Draco stepped in, looking thoughtful and preoccupied. Catching a hint of his thoughts, Harry’s face clouded.

‘What did Goyle say?’ He asked silently, picking up Draco’s memory of seeing his former lover in the library.

Draco made no response again and, only when Snape looked round at him, did he seem to shake himself and move towards Harry.

‘Nothing. He said nothing.’ He replied and offered a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

“Then what did he do?” Harry asked aloud, “Something’s clearly bothered you; what’s up?”

For a second it seemed that Draco was going to fob Harry off with another dismissal but then, with a glance at Snape, he responded. ‘He was with Vince and Blaise – they were in the library.’

‘And?’ Snape asked, joining their silent conversation.

‘Well, Blaise started by going on about his last detention and how you’re a sadistic -’

‘I think I get the message.’ Snape interjected.

‘And then they realised that I was there – and that I was alone.’ Draco shrugged, looking and sounding bored. ‘So Vince and Blaise decided they’d take the piss. You know, miming and goofing about.’

Harry regarded him with calm amusement in his eyes. The prospect of his lover being teased and tormented didn’t amuse him, but rather the way that Draco’s legendary drawl even came across in silent, telepathic conversation. It was also amusing on a quite different level to think that Draco had once teased and mimicked him, himself.

But then, Harry realised, there was an element of anger beneath his lover’s words. Whilst unable to feel Draco’s emotions, he could nonetheless tell, simply from the way in which he held himself, that he was incensed about something.

‘What exactly were they teasing you about’? Snape asked, his dark eyes on Draco.

At once, Draco shifted and shook his head slightly as if to communicate that it wasn’t worth bothering with. Both Harry and Snape, however, could hear his thoughts and Snape, at least, could feel the tumult of emotions.

“They were going on about that night, weren’t they?” Harry asked, his voice tight. “Talking about how they got you outside the gates and -”

‘Yes! All right? Yes, they were having a real laugh at my expense!’ Draco exploded, marching across the room to Snape’s cabinet where he kept an assortment of whiskies and glasses.

Without even looking over at his guardian, Draco then poured himself a measure of bourbon and knocked it back before Snape could utter a word of complaint or protest.

‘They even did a little re-enactment of when…when my father…’ He faltered, his head bowing and Harry caught a torrent of images, thoughts and memories. And, even before his lover dropped the glass from a hopelessly shaking hand, he was on his feet and heading towards him.

“If they knew how it was done,” he said, pulling Draco around and into his arms, “then that means that they were there. And that means that we’ve got them.”

Snape too was beside Draco in a heartbeat but was shaking his head, “We’ve got nothing.” He growled. “Simply acting out the attack is no proof, unfortunately.”

The two younger men looked at him with identical expressions of anger and disappointment.

‘But,’ Harry argued, turning to face Snape but still keeping one arm around Draco’s shoulders, ‘if we went to Dumbledore -’

‘The Headmaster can’t work without any proof, Harry.’ Snape insisted, some element of his will coming across with his silent words. ‘And, before you suggest it, he can’t use Veritaserum on students.’

‘Really?’ A hint of a smirk twitched at Harry’s mouth, ‘You let me believe otherwise in fourth year.’

‘In fourth year,’ Snape retorted, ‘you were an insufferable little twit. An insufferable little twit, I might add, who stole from my own ingredients store.’

Now a true smile appeared on Harry’s face as he looked Snape in the eyes and stated honestly, ‘I’ve never stolen anything from your store.’

And suddenly Snape didn’t look so sure of himself. One thing they’d discovered early on was that, when communicating telepathically like this, none of them could disguise the truth. When Harry had tried (insisting that the four water glasses left by the bed were Draco’s), Snape had immediately read the truth in his thoughts.

So now the Potions master was looking pensive and thoughtful. ‘In that case’, he said eventually, moving now back to his chair, ‘I suppose I should have collared Mr Weasley.’

“Maybe.” Harry said aloud and then blushed, causing Draco to snigger; the first positive response from him since his arrival.

‘Harry,’ Snape gave him a hard stare, ‘answer me with your thoughts. Did Weasley steal certain ingredients from my store.’

A smile tugged hard at Harry’s mouth, revealing that he felt no remorse for keeping secrets. Finally, he shook his head and replied, ‘No, Weasley didn’t steal from you either.’ And then, because he knew what Snape would ask next, he confessed: ‘Hermione stole the ingredients necessary to make Polyjuice potion in our second year.’

Snape’s eyebrows rose at this information and then he asked, ‘And the Gillyweed?’

‘Dobby.’

‘Our old house-elf?’ Draco exclaimed, staring at Harry then. ‘He’s here?’

Harry gave him an odd look, ‘You didn’t know? He’s been here since our fourth year.’

Draco shook his head, looking blankly at him. Perhaps, Harry thought then, Dobby had deliberately hidden from Draco. After all, he’d chosen to clean and tidy the Gryffindor common room and dormitories, hadn’t he?

“So we can’t punish Crabbe and Zabini then?” Harry asked aloud, changing the subject.

“No,” Snape shook his head, “but Mr Zabini will be in Potions on Monday and there are probably dozens of little infractions that I can use to call him back for another week of detentions. As for Mr Crabbe, I daresay I could find something; loitering, chewing with his mouth open, standing around looking stupid.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across Harry’s face, “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Seeing that Draco was still looking stressed and unhappy, he pressed a kiss to his temple and silently suggested that he have a bath. ‘Shall I come with you?’ He asked as Draco moved towards their bathroom.

The blond young man shook his head, however. ‘No, I’m probably going to fall asleep in the bath for half an hour. And, besides, you need to finish that chapter.’ He gestured to Harry’s neglected Potions book.

‘But it’s Friday!’ Harry protested, ‘You know, we never do homework on Fridays and Severus never does marking. Although,’ and now he looked at Snape, ‘you still haven’t taken us down the pub for that field trip.’

‘I don’t recall ever promising such a thing.’ Snape retorted, although his eyes were full of dark amusement.

*~*~*

It was actually an hour and a half later by the time Draco re-emerged from the bathroom with damp hair and dressed in his customary drawstring trousers.

Snape looked up from his book, raising one eyebrow at his ward’s choice of attire and then gestured to the low table where an assortment of crackers, cheeses and pate were spread, along with half a bottle of Merlot.

“Help yourself,” he remarked casually. “Despite having a huge dinner, Harry complained, an hour ago, of being hungry.”

“Hey, I’m a growing lad!” Harry countered from where he lay on the floor. As before, he lay on his back with knees bent and feet resting between Snape’s. His Potions book, presumably finished with, lay beside him and he had one of Draco’s novels propped open against his thighs. A cracker, laden with butter and a piece of cheddar, rested on his chest amidst crumbs; evidence of the crackers he’d already eaten.

‘Of course you are!’ Draco replied with a fond smile. He gestured to the wine then and looked at Snape, ‘Were you including the wine, when you said ‘help yourself’?’

‘No.’ Snape responded with a mock glare.

Draco sniffed and tossed his fringe out of his eyes. ‘All right, then. You drink it! But you realise that you’ll pay for mixing wine and whisky, don’t you?’ He smirked and walked towards Harry. Without any further ado, he sat down with knees either side of Harry’s torso, stole the solitary cracker from its resting-place on Harry’s chest and then leaned back against his lover’s knees.

Harry, who had only just rescued his book in time, gave Draco a curious look and smiled.

“Draco, when have you ever known me to have a hangover?” Snape demanded, giving his ward a look too.

Draco pretended to give it some thought and then shrugged. ‘Never but I thought I could persuade you to share.’

‘Hm…if we didn’t have a training session tomorrow,’ Snape responded, ‘I might have let you have half a glass. And before you say it,’ he looked at Harry, ‘yes, you do have to go to training. You can’t avoid trying out your powers any longer.’

‘Who says I’ve been avoiding it?’ Harry gave him a wide-eyed look. To which, Snape made no comment but simply gave him a disbelieving stare.

‘So would you let me have some wine too?’ Harry asked, changing the subject.

‘Well, yes, but as I said, you have training tomorrow and I wouldn’t recommend it on top of a hangover.’

‘What if we assured you that we wouldn’t have hangovers, though?’ Draco asked, looking over his shoulder at his guardian and smiling sweetly.

Snape sighed and shook his head. Then, surprising both of them, he said, “Very well. But on your head be it, if either of you are too ill to train. Accio wine glasses!”

*~*~*

As it turned out, Harry had nothing to worry about, with regards to the training or his powers. As promised, neither he nor Draco arrived with hangovers (but then neither of them had very much to drink) and every spell that Snape cast at him, he rebuffed with ease and yet had no difficulty in controlling the amount of force used. Even when Snape lifted all of the dampening fields, there were no problems.

So, in order to develop their newly reinforced magical energies, Snape devised a sort of obstacle course with a wide variety of hexes, curses and problems to solve and get around. And it seemed to Harry, at least, that each of them now had equal power. Admittedly, Snape was more adept and experienced, even with this new power, but Harry and Draco weren’t so far behind that they couldn’t give him a run for his money.

‘Today was good.’ Draco thought to him as they sat, curled around each other with arms and legs entwined, in front of the fire.

Snape was in his workroom, tinkering with potion ingredients and making a list of items to buy once the Christmas holidays started and he could get into London.

‘Hm…it was.’ Harry agreed and buried his nose in the back of Draco’s neck. Draco smelled of warm flesh and cologne, although only very slightly. He hadn’t put any on today and so it was just a lingering hint from yesterday. His breath in his lover’s hair must have tickled because Draco twitched a little and squirmed within the circle of his arms.

“Boys, I was thinking,” Snape announced, walking in from the workroom. He paused in the doorway and Harry picked up his momentary sense that he was intruding. Not wanting the man to feel uncomfortable, Harry looked up at him with polite curiosity and gave a warm smile.

“Thinking that, when I go to Diagon Alley, you could give me a list of anything you might want and I’ll pick it up for you.” Snape finished, coming the rest of the way in.

“Can’t we come with you?” Harry asked, moving away from Draco enough to give Snape room to sit down in one of the chairs.

“Not a good idea.” Snape replied firmly and took the seat.

‘Well,’ Draco looked up at him, ‘what would you suggest? You can buy the presents I want to get for Harry but you can’t buy your own presents.’

‘Presents?’ Harry looked at him in surprise. ‘Presents, plural? Draco, you don’t have to buy me anything and you certainly don’t have to buy more than one present.’

‘And I wasn’t expecting anything from you.’ Snape added.

‘Well tough, because you’re getting presents – plural,’ Draco smirked at Harry, ‘whether you like it or not. Although,’ and his smirk broadened into a true smile, ‘you’ll definitely like them!’

“Okay,” Harry said aloud, responding to his lover’s smile. “If you insist. But then, I’m in the same situation. Severus can buy my presents to you but you can’t buy your own.” He looked up at the Potions master.

Snape started to object again but then gave up and shrugged. “You could give me a sealed envelope,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I’ll pass it to the shop assistant and they can select whatever it is, wrap it for me and I’ll have no idea what it is until Christmas morning.”

That settled, Snape then proposed that they head down to the Great Hall for dinner.

*~*~*

“Harry?”

He paused in his silent conversation with Draco (with occasional input from Snape at the teacher’s table) and looked up at Hermione. Ignoring Draco’s impatient sigh, he offered her a smile.

“Is it okay to come and see you tomorrow?” she asked, giving Draco a wary glance.

“Yeah, should be.” He nodded, “I’ve finished all my assignments from last week so, provided we don’t get any more tomorrow, we could play a game or something.”

‘If you don’t have any homework to do what’s she coming to see you for?’ Draco demanded, dropping his dessertspoon with an angry clatter.

Harry gave his lover a quelling look and nodded as Hermione promised to bring down a selection of games.

“I’ll see you at around seven then?” Hermione finished and, offering a slightly hesitant but friendly smile to Draco, she turned to head out of the Hall. Ron, Harry noted, was waiting for her and cast a particularly dark look at himself and Draco.

‘Don’t say it.’ He said then to Draco before his lover could even start. ‘I know you don’t want her to visit but she’s my friend.’

‘What?’ Draco stared at him, aghast. ‘Since when has she been your bloody friend? When did that happen?’

‘Draco, come on.’ Harry pleaded, pushing his dish aside. ‘She was my friend before, you know that, and she’s been -’

‘What? What, Harry? She’s been what? There for you? She’s been understanding, supportive? Has she defended you to Weasley? You tell me!’ Draco exploded, standing up in a rush.

‘Draco, wait…please.’ Harry stood up too. Somewhere behind him, he was aware of Snape moving too, his thoughts aimed at Draco; beseeching him to take this ‘discussion’ back to their rooms and not to cause a scene here.

‘Wait for what?’ Draco shook his head, his eyes full of anger and a hint of pain. ‘Wait for you to tell me that you don’t want me anymore? Will you move back to the bloody Gryffindor common room too now?’ He glanced once at Snape and Harry heard him snap, ‘Yes, I’m going. I’m going back to our rooms – after all, where else would I go?’

And with that, he turned and stormed away, leaving Harry to simply stand and stare after him. The Slytherins, those that remained at the table, whistled and catcalled as he went past. They shot Harry a few jeering glances too. Only Goyle sat silently, his eyes on Draco’s retreating back.

Not giving it a moment’s thought, however, Harry hurried after his lover; Snape’s eyes following him from the Hall.

By the time he’d made it out into the corridor, Draco had already disappeared. He sent out a searching thought, ‘Draco, will you please just hold on? I’m sorry.’ But there was no response and so he moved quickly towards the Slytherin dungeons.

*~*~*

“Please,” Harry panted, having run all the way through the corridors. He leaned now against the bedroom door and tried to make his lover hear him. And all the while, that low, persistent headache had returned and was making its presence felt between his temples. ‘Please, Draco, I’m sorry.’ He pleaded.

Again, he was met with stony silence and he frowned, closing his eyes and damning himself for upsetting the very centre of his universe. After all, Draco was everything to him; he was his best friend, his lover, his soul mate –

The door opened abruptly and Harry blinked, finding himself suddenly face to face with Draco.

‘Centre of your universe?’ Draco asked with a raised eyebrow. Without waiting for an answer, he then drew Harry towards him and pressed a kiss against his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, sliding his hands up into Draco’s hair and shivering with relief and nerves. He curled his fingers in amongst the fine, white-blond strands and kissed his lover again. “I’ll tell Hermione not to come down.”

In response, Draco smiled and tightened his hold, placing one hand on Harry’s hip and wrapping his other arm around his waist.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured silently and gave Harry a kiss with serious intent, drawing him into the room and closing the door, even as he pushed Harry’s robe off his shoulders.

*~*~*

En route to his rooms, nursing another headache – damn it! - Snape caught a suggestion of what his cohorts were doing and hesitated mid-stride. Whilst relieved that they weren’t fighting anymore, he didn’t particularly relish the idea of being in an adjoining room while the two young men were making love just feet away. After last Sunday, the last time had been mid-week when the two of them had taken advantage of a free period to share a shower and the Potions master had fled for the sake of his sanity.

Right now, he wasn’t quite sure what to do or where to go. Some few of the other teachers congregated in the staff room of an evening but he couldn’t bear to socialise with them any more than he could bear to try and mark papers with Harry and Draco panting and pawing over each other.

Besides, he thought sourly, Minerva would probably try and talk to him about the boys and he didn’t think that he could respond with a straight face.

‘Draco…’

Harry’s impassioned, desire-filled groan rocked Snape on his heels and for just one moment, he entertained the idea of retiring to his own rooms and entertaining himself to the shared thoughts and emotions of his cohorts. But that, he decided, was not a road he wanted to journey down – or at least, it was a road that he shouldn’t journey down.

So, drawing himself up to his full height, he decided to go on an early evening prowl and terrorise any first years daring to be out of their common room after eight o’ clock in the evening.

*~*~*

It was late; Harry gauged it to be around midnight. He lay in bed with Draco curled, asleep, at his side; his face resting against one hand that, in turn, rested upon Harry’s chest.

In the soft lamplight, he looked down at his lover’s sleeping face and caught snatches of his dreams. It seemed that Draco was dreaming of nice things tonight: flying, playing Quidditch…stealing the Snitch from Harry’s grasp and then apologising with a passionate kiss. As if such things as public displays of affection (never mind stealing the Snitch off him, he thought with a grin) could really happen…

It bothered Harry slightly that he’d had to promise not to see Hermione any more. After all, she was his friend; despite what Draco wished. But Draco had been so upset and so angry… Harry shook his head and pressed a soft kiss to his lover’s forehead. Draco mumbled something in his sleep and snaked an arm around Harry’s waist, holding onto him possessively.

Beyond the door, out in Snape’s sitting room, Harry heard the man moving about and he sent out an enquiring thought:

‘You’re up late. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ Snape’s voice returned, sounding weary. ‘Go to sleep.’

‘Where have you been?’ Harry asked, ignoring the command.

There was a long silence, during which Harry caught snippets of information through Snape’s senses. The feel of his favourite armchair, for instance; the peaty, wood-smoke taste of whisky and the sensation of warmth on his face from the fire.

‘Walking…’ Snape replied finally but there seemed to Harry that there was more to this statement than met the eye.

With just a little push, he nudged the other man’s consciousness and caught just a glimmer of thoughts and images before being roughly pushed away.

‘Leave it, Harry.’

‘Why? What’s wrong?’ And then Harry considered what he’d seen and realisation dawned with a jolt that almost woke Draco. ‘You – you share…what we do? You see it? F-feel it?’ He couldn’t keep the stutter out of his thoughts; he was so shocked by what he’d just learned.

‘Harry,’ Snape’s words were urgent, ‘I didn’t mean to – I don’t mean to intrude, to witness… Gods, you must think I’m some kind of sick voyeur!’

‘No!’ Lying in bed, Harry shook his head, half-wishing they could have this conversation face to face and yet glad that they couldn’t. ‘I don’t think that…Hell, Severus, why didn’t you say? The spell went wrong, didn’t it? You feel what Draco and I feel but we don’t feel what you feel. So…so you get all the raw, teenage hormones, the lust, the desire and none of the…the…’

‘Quite.’ Snape’s tone was sharp and telling in its bluntness.

Getting a sudden shared thought, Harry recognised the Potion master’s acute embarrassment and felt his own cheeks flush in sympathy. ‘What shall we do?’ He asked in a small voice.

‘Nothing. Go to sleep.’

‘But, Sev -’

‘Harry, go to sleep. Don’t worry about it.’ And with that, Harry felt Snape very firmly close the link.

Finding himself mentally alone once more, Harry realised that the headache of before had finally vanished. With the start of a theory forming in his mind, he rested one more kiss on Draco’s face and then settled towards sleep.