Never Wake a Sleepwalker

A/N: Thanks to everyone who asked for this story to continue past the initial chapter, which was written as a one shot. The first chapter was ever so much fun to write, but with this latest one, I let go and had a blast. So, the author was wrong, the reviewers were right. There. I said it. LOL

beta’d by Angel Eyes. Thanks, sweetie!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Harry pulled out of the Pensieve, a bit shaken and a whole lot aroused by the memory he’d just viewed. He turned to Hermione, who had been rather eager to jump in the memory with him, opening and closing his mouth as he fought to find words to say after…that.

“See?” Hermione asked, a knowing smirk on her face. “I told you it was hot.”

Harry felt a vague quiver of disgust that one of his best friends had obviously had such a good time watching him wank their professor in a darkened hall after curfew. Dropping his head into his hands, he moaned, “What am I going to do, Hermione?”

“Well,” she said, a wicked gleam entering her unremarkable brown eyes, “you could always go sleepwalking again.”

Harry looked up at her through his fingers and gulped, a little bit afraid of the evil light that was suddenly shining from Hermione’s eyes.

~*~

Severus Snape strode briskly through the halls, robes flapping smartly behind him as he stalked toward his quarters. The sounds of furious whispers reached him, and on instinct, he moved toward the wall, edging along it until he was close enough to make out distinct sounds. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing and concentrated on the cadence of the speaker, his years as a spy working in his favour.

“You idiot! You know Malfoy said not to do anything that would lose us House points! He’ll sanction you for this; you just wait and see!”

“But, it’s Potter! Surely, Malfoy won’t care if we send Potter off the Astronomy Tower! It was just a Sleepwalking Spell, Zabini. It can’t be traced back to the Slytherins now, and all that would have happened is that Potter would have lost points for Gryffindor for being out past curfew.”

“What do you think would have happened if he had been hurt…or if someone had been stupid enough to try to wake him, Nott? You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

“Oh, like anyone truly cares anymore, Zabini. Have you noticed that ever since he killed the Dark Lord, the Headmaster has little time for him? Who will notice, or even care if precious Potter disappears off the face of the earth?”

“Be that as it may, Nott, until Slytherin has the House Cup firmly in hand, no more pranks of any sort. Am I clear?”

The last words were issued with hissing menace, and as Severus listened to Nott’s high pitched, affirmative answer, he wondered exactly where Zabini was pointing his wand. A smirk touched his lips before he realised the full import of what the boys had said.

So, Potter had been under the influence of a spell the previous evening? That was rather…disappointing. Severus had made plans to position himself outside the Gryffindor Common Room this evening after curfew, in case Potter had a relapse. After all, it wouldn’t do to have Potter snogging just anyone in the halls, now would it?

With a soft growl of displeasure, he continued on his way to his quarters.

~*~

The next night at precisely seven o’clock, Harry took a deep, steadying breath, and knocked on the door to the Potions classroom. At Snape’s, “Enter!” he opened the door and strode as confidently as he was able into the room, forcing himself to make eye contact with his Professor.

Trying to still the blush that wanted to spring to his cheeks, he deliberately moved his supplies to the workstation closest to Snape and settled onto the stool there. When Snape merely lifted a brow at him before returning to grading essays, Harry decided that drastic action was necessary.

Clearing his throat to gain Snape’s attention, he said softly, “Sir, I was wondering if you’d seen my scarf. I left it here last evening, under the table, I think. Do you know if the house-elves, or…anyone else…might have found it?” Harry held his breath, waiting to see what kind of reaction he would get.

Snape’s eyes darkened for a moment and his lips parted the barest fraction of an inch when a vision of Potter’s scarf wrapped around his throbbing erection flashed across his mind’s eye. Blinking once to dispel that memory, he reached down and opened the bottom left drawer of his desk, withdrawing the red and gold scarf. Placing it on the far corner of his desk, he motioned to Potter, who strolled forward to receive it.

Harry moved to Snape’s desk, quaking a bit inside over the step he was about to take in his newly formulated plans to seduce one Severus Snape. Gathering the length of his scarf into one hand, he brought the material up to his face and, capturing Snape’s gaze with his own, drew a deep breath of the scent lingering there.

“Thank you, sir, for taking such good care of my scarf for me,” he said huskily, before turning and walking back toward his cauldron.

Severus grasped the edge of his desk when Potter turned to walk away, reeling at the blatantly suggestive tone in Potter’s voice and the knowing look in his brilliant green eyes. He knew, Merlin only knew how, but Potter knew what he had done the previous evening with that scarf. When Potter reached his workstation and glanced back at him, licking his lips lightly, a calculating gleam entered Snape’s eyes. The boy wanted to play, did he?

With a flick of his wand, Snape changed the directions on the board, and announced, “You appear to be somewhat proficient at brewing the Sleepwalking Potion, Potter, and as you sat your NEWTs this morning, the only thing left to do is teach you some practical potions you might have use for in your…everyday…life.”

Snape allowed suggestion to fill his tone as he said, “You will find instructions on the board for a lubricating potion which has a slightly aphrodisiacal affect. I’m sure you’ll need it, especially the aphrodisiac.”

He watched, smug, as Potter’s eyes darkened, but was taken aback when, after scanning the list of ingredients, the brat said, “Hmmm, yes, this will be difficult to do by myself, though, sir. Step three alone will require at least two people. Don’t you agree?”

Severus sat back in his chair, fingers laced over his abdomen, as he contemplated Potter. The young man was being almost painfully obvious, but it was…amusing to witness his attempts at seduction. Very well, he had no objection to playing along. Technically, Potter was no longer his student since he’d completed his Potions NEWT that very afternoon. Severus would bite off his tongue before admitting it, but based on Potter’s submission to the exam board, it would not surprise Severus if he received an Outstanding for his efforts.

Smoothly rising to his feet, Severus moved to stand behind Potter, his stride pure predatory grace. And a predator he was. Potter might think he was directing this little drama, but Severus had no doubt who would end up the conqueror in their battle of wills.

With a flick of his wand, the necessary ingredients were laid out on the workstation, arranged by their order in the potion. “Now,” he said softly, allowing his words to ghost over Potter’s ear, “you must ensure that the rose hips are chopped precisely. If not, the potion will be lumpy and rather ineffective.”

He smirked as Potter shivered against his chest, but was again surprised by the brat’s daring when Harry cleared his throat, and said, “Can you show me what size the pieces should be…sir?”

“Certainly, Potter,” he agreed, after a bare moment’s hesitation. A wicked thought entering his head, he picked up Potter’s silver Potions knife, and placed it in the young man’s hand, wrapping his own, longer fingered one, around it. “You’ll learn faster if you are…participating. Trust me,” he said with a smirk he knew Potter couldn’t see. He moved in close behind Potter, allowing his groin to brush up against the young man’s backside as he curled his taller frame around Potter’s to “help” him chop the rose hips.

With deliberate movements, he guided Potter’s hand through a series of slow, measured slices, satisfied to note the way Potter’s breathing turned ragged. When the rose hips were in perfect, tiny, precisely equal pieces, he reached forward to light the flame under the cauldron, driving his hips forward into Potter’s and forcing a soft groan from the young man, which he attempted to cover with a pitiful little cough.

Severus continued with his efforts to drive Potter insane, maintaining his presence at Potter’s back, brushing against him as often as possible and pushing the young man to the height of sexual frustration. He noted with amusement how Potter’s hand shook when he added the essence of aloe to the mixture.

When the final ingredient had been added, Severus took pity on Potter and moved away from him, striding to the storage room to collect a vial of cherry flavouring and a small, sanitized jar.

Carrying them both back to where Potter stood, fair face flushed with desire, Severus showed him the cherry flavouring. “Adding this, after you have removed the potion from the fire, will give the lubricant a pleasant taste.” Putting words to action, he banished the flame from under the cauldron with a wave of his hand, and tipped the vial over the steaming contents, allowing a small amount to pour out before he righted the vial. As he did so, a small bit of the red liquid dribbled down the outer edge of the glass and dripped onto his hand.

Seeing Potter’s green eyes locked on the tiny bit of liquid on his hand, Severus held it up and said, “Would you like to sample it?” His words were a challenge, one he knew no Gryffindor could turn down.

Harry captured Snape’s hand with both of his own, so far past aroused that he could barely think for the sexual images fighting for dominance in his head. Bringing the pale hand to his lips, he allowed his tongue to flicker lightly over Snape’s finger, taking his time with the treat, not wanting to lap it up too quickly. When every last bit of flavour was gone, he pulled the digit into his mouth. After suckling lightly for a moment, he released Snape’s hand with a disappointed sigh, surprised when he was offered a jar full of lubricant.

“Your hour is up, Potter. Return tomorrow night at the same time, and I’ll show you how to brew a very effective, very relaxing, massage oil.”

Severus chuckled lightly to himself when Potter gathered up his things and fled the room, robes tented at his groin. With a wry grin, he looked down at his own obvious arousal. He could still feel Potter’s hot little tongue sliding so sensuously over his skin.

Oh yes, he would enjoy this week.

TBC