Madame Scarlet's

Author's Note: Many thanks to my beta Laurel, who agreed to look this over even though it contains Snape Smut

Chapter 6 Truth and Lies

Draco stalked the corridors searching for someone to take the edge off. His veins burned as if set on fire directly and his entire body ached to be held by his mate. Knowing that the boy who could end all of his suffering had been hiding away in his dorm all week only served to make it that much more unbearable.

Since leaving Potter alone with his friends the previous weekend, Draco had seen little of his Gryffindor paramour. Breaking through Granger and Weasley’s defenses was like breaking into a Gringotts vault. Potter was inaccessible and never alone, making the pain Draco felt coursing through his body elevate daily to the point where he had no choice but to relieve it another way. If Potter didn’t want him then he’d find someone who did.

“Zabini,” he called out the moment he spotted his awe stricken friend. The boy nearly drooled as Draco grabbed his sleeve and tugged him into an abandoned classroom nearby.

“Drop your trousers and bend over that desk,” Draco ordered and Blaise jumped into action, unbuttoning and removing his pants without hesitation. The boy was already erect and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Just turn around, would you?” Draco insisted, shoving the boy over to the desks as he unfastened his own trousers and without preparation thrust roughly into the other Slytherin’s backside.

The boy whined painfully, squirming as though he couldn’t decide if he wanted more or wanted it to stop. “Shut up,” Draco growled. “Potter never complained.” He thrust again but felt nothing as he did: no interruption, not even a pause in the growing pain that flowed through his whole body.

The boy grunted uncomfortably again and Draco pulled out, casting a memory charm as he did, before stalking out of the room unfulfilled, not even bothering to explain Blaise’s confusion to him before he left. He couldn’t muster up the kind of indifference it took to be able to fuck his roommates at will, and even when he did, the act did nothing for him; just looking at Zabini’s insignificant form made him crave Harry’s creamy skin and obsidian hair.

With an exasperated sigh at knowing his heart wouldn’t permit him release with another, Draco roamed the corridors for a quiet place to study for his Potions exam and it was this that led him to a delightful epiphany. Harry’s friends wouldn’t be allowed to follow him into detention, but Draco could. Potter would be in Snape’s office that very same night and Severus wouldn’t dare deny his favorite student access to the boy. A wicked grin erupted across his sharp features as Draco thought of Harry’s face when he walked in to see his mate there waiting for him.

The clever Slytherin rushed off toward the dungeons to locate his Head of House. He found him in his private quarters, looking over a thick parchment scroll. “I’ll be attending your detention tonight,” Draco announced without preamble.

“You’ll do not such thing,” Snape replied, not bothering to look up from his work.

“You can’t deny me access to my mate,” Draco informed the older man with a glower.

“I can and I will. Potter specifically asked that you not be there,” the Potions Master noted.

“And you agreed? Why? You know what he is, what he means to me, you can’t keep us apart like that,” Draco growled.

“I’m simply facilitating the request of my student,” Snape replied with a devious smirk.

“What are you getting out of this arrangement?” Draco inquired, already knowing the answer based on his Professors leer.

“Why Draco, I think that much should be obvious. I’m taking your mate as my own tonight. I need to assess how much training he’ll need before being inducted into the company… a quality check if you will,” he mused with a wicked glint in his pitch black eyes.

“He’s not joining the company,” Draco snarled, feeling a surge of protectiveness flow over him. “Harry’s mine.”

“Harry doesn’t want you, nor does he want to lose control with one of the people he cares about. Madame Scarlet’s will be the perfect solution,” Snape recited as if giving Draco the sale pitch.

“Did he tell you that he doesn’t want me?” Draco asked, thoroughly befuddled. He couldn’t understand why the pull was so different for Harry. Draco couldn’t get a wink of sleep without the raven-haired boy occupying his mind, but it appeared Harry was utterly indifferent to him.

“Yes, after class yesterday. He had a feeling you might barge into his detention tonight and he made it clear that he wanted you nowhere near him,” Snape replied sharply. “Potter has promised himself to me in return for my assistance on this matter.”

Draco folded his arms around his body hugging himself. “I- I don’t understand,” he rasped, his throat closing up as if warding off a sob. “Why doesn’t he love me?”

“Love has nothing to do with this,” Snape replied casually.

“It has everything to do with it!” Draco howled. “I love him, my entire body responds when he’s near me, my mind dwells on him every second, I always want him with me.”

“How do you know he’s even your mate?” Snape asked. “If Potter doesn’t feel the same way, isn’t it likely that you’re wrong about him? Perhaps the Incubi’s song is singing to you as well. What you describe sounds more like infatuation than love.”

“I-I’m sure…” Draco began, but he wasn’t. Harry’s scent called to him like no other, but it was possible that Snape was right. Harry was the only other Incubi he’d encountered, other than his mother, since he turned seventeen, maybe his feelings were all simply because he’d met another of his kind.

“Perhaps we should speak with your father, he knows a great deal about your species after all,” Snape reasoned.

“If I were going to talk to someone, I would talk to Mother. Father would only tell me what he wanted me to know,” Draco replied bitterly, though speaking to Narcissa about Harry might actually be the best idea. “Does he know about Harry?” he asked in a panic. Even if what Draco was feeling wasn’t real, he still didn’t want his father dragging Harry into that mess of a company he’d created.

“Not yet. I’ve kept it from Lucius for the moment, but once Potter agrees to join us I’ll have to tell him,” Severus replied coolly.

“And if Potter refuses to join you?” Draco asked, his eyes flickering with hope.

“I’ll still tell your father. We have ways of persuading people,” Snape replied with a deadly smile. “He’ll be ours, make no mistake.”

“We’ll see about that,” Draco grumbled, turning to leave the Potion Master’s room.

“You realize you’ll be fighting your father directly on this?” Snape called to him. “He’ll no doubt take Potter as his own special pet the moment he finds out about the boy’s talents.”

A shudder ran through Draco’s body at the idea of his own father’s hands on his mate, but then he could be wrong and Harry might not belong to him after all –somehow that didn’t seem to change how Draco felt about it.

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Draco whispered and left the private quarters in lieu of someplace quiet where he could think about what to do next.

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Harry didn’t know how to tell his friends to bugger off. He didn’t know how to make them understand that as much as he tried to fight it, all he wanted was for Malfoy to hold him, or that the only time he felt clear and right was when the blonde Slytherin was buried deep within his body. No doubt a statement like that would give Ron a coronary.

All week the pair had stood by his side like chaperones, warding off Malfoy at every pass. They never left him alone. They made sure he was unable to sneak away at night by stealing and hiding his invisibility cloak and placing a few powerful spells on his bed that would alert the pair if Harry tried to get up. Midnight trips to the loo were closely monitored by Ron, which made the problem of keeping his beast at bay that much more difficult.

Hermione deemed it an unhealthy obsession with his attacker and said that a lot of victims lionize the people who hurt them. Harry tried to explain that it was completely consensual, and that Malfoy didn’t attack him, but his clever Gryffindor friend would hear nothing of it. “Just because you may have wanted to experiment did not give Malfoy the right to take advantage,” she had said, though she was going entirely on speculation. Harry hadn’t told her a single thing of what had really happened that night or else his friends might not ever speak to him again.

If they had any idea that Harry had provided the creamy filling to a Slytherin sandwich they would no doubt be appalled and have him committed or worse. All he knew was that the longer he went without the blonde’s touch the crazier he actually felt. His only relief was the knowledge that Hermione and Ron could not follow him into detention, though that hadn’t stopped them from trying to figure out a way to do just that.

Just yesterday Ron actually tripped the Potions Master, sending the man skidding a good meter across the floor and shattering some of the vials he’d been carrying –which made Harry flush crimson from the memory of what the man had done with a very similar vial the last time they had been alone together. Snape took one look at Ron, then flicked his eyes to Harry’s blushing face and seemed to know exactly what the redhead was up to.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, and you’ll be seeing me in detention,” the man growled. “Saturday,” he amended with a satisfied sneer.

Ron slumped and the pair scurried away from the sallow professor before more punishment could be dolled out. Even though the plan had failed, Ron felt successful since he’d have the humorous memory of Snape falling on his face to replay over and over in his mind; it would keep him company in his detention on Saturday and he knew his housemates would think fifty points a small price to pay for the victory.

Despite his friend’s best efforts, Harry would finally be alone in detention that night, and after seeing the longing looks on Malfoy’s face from afar, Harry guessed that the blonde would come to find him there.

Time morphed into more burning flames to consume him as the seconds ticked bybefore he could see Malfoy again. His body ached for the Slytherin, yearning for him in a way that he couldn’t explain. His mind knew that he was longing for the same Slytherin prat that called his friends Mudblood and poor blood traitor, he knew that he was still the same boy who stood beside his father on Voldemort’s right hand in the war, but his heart didn’t care. His heart saw the blonde hair and the milky flesh and swooned.

All week he’d been hoping the Slytherin would find a way to break through his barrier of diligent Gryffindor friends, but the boy always hung back, just staring at him unrelentingly in classes or at meals. It was rather frustrating, but Harry looked forward to remedying their lack of contact tonight.

When the time came, Hermione and Ron escorted Harry to the Potion Masters office. Harry had worn extra layers of clothing, wanting to savor the feeling of Malfoy stripping them away one at a time. As he neared the chilly dungeon classroom he was glad for the additional warmth his forethought had provided him with.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry assured his friends as he shooed them away. He hoped desperately that Draco was already inside so that his two Gryffindor protectors out in the corridor wouldn’t attack him.

There were no piercing gray eyes to meet his when he arrived though, only thick obsidian. “Professor Snape,” Harry chimed in greeting, a blush settling on his cheeks when he realized Snape was sitting on the edge of the desk and leering at him obscenely.

“Mr. Potter,” the man replied, as he began to stalk closer. “I trust you’ve come to my classroom prepared for your detention?”

“Is Malfoy coming?” Harry asked, ignoring the older man’s smoldering gaze and loaded questions. Letting himself fall in the long clawing fingers of his Potions Master once had been one time too many. He wouldn’t begrudge the man joining he and Draco if it came to it –the man had provided the opportunity for Harry to finally be with the Slytherin student after all- but he wouldn’t pursue a sexual encounter with the man without Draco present. If the boy was right about them belonging together, it seemed Harry owed him at least that much.

“No,” Snape replied sharply. “He came to me today frustrated that you continually reject him. He’s decided to take another lover to assuage his yearnings.”

“W-what?” Harry asked, not understanding the Professor’s words.

“Draco wants someone who is available to service his needs whenever he wants. Just today he took a fellow housemate and then erased their memory, just as he has been doing all year. He’s an impatient boy and won’t wait for a Gryffindor prude such as yourself to come to your senses,” the man informed him.

“How could he think I was a prude after last week?” Harry demanded. Harry had done unthinkable things in last weeks detention; no one with any sense could possibly call Harry a prude after he’d sucked off his Professor while being fucked in the arse by his worst enemy.

Snape gave an elegant shrug and put his arm around Harry’s shoulders, his tone becoming gentle and seductive. “You could always prove him wrong,” the man suggested with a smirk.

“I should talk to Malfoy,” Harry whispered, conflicted over that very statement. Part of him wanted to let the Potions Master have his way with him only to rub it in Malfoy’s face later, but the rest of him screamed in protest.

“Harry,” the man soothed, gliding long fingers along Harry’s jaw as he did. “Draco doesn’t deserve you, in fact, no one man deserves to be your keeper. You’re special. Not only are you the Hero of the Wizarding world, but you also have the talent to give whomever you choose the all-consuming pleasure of your touch. People would kill to spend ten minutes in your bed.”

“And what would you do?” Harry asked, his breath coming in quick and shallow gasps.

“I would protect you from those who mean you harm, I would hold you and love you, I would worship you, Harry,” he replied softly. The words stung at the corners of Harry’s eyes and he didn’t even realize the Professor was pulling at the buttons on his shirt until the cool dungeon air hit his bare skin. “Let me make love to you, Harry. Let me show you that it doesn’t all have to be rough and forced like it was last time.”

Harry sighed, losing himself in the seductive octave of Snape’s voice and nodded. Within seconds deft fingers were working at getting more clothing off of Harry’s body and then lips were on his and Harry closed his eyes against the feeling, willing it to be Draco instead of Severus. “No!” he gasped, breaking the kiss at last. “I have to talk to Draco,” he announced and pried himself out of Snape’s grip, leaving the classroom at a run.

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Ron was waiting outside the Potions classroom and his eyes went wide as he saw Harry barrel out nearly shirtless. “Harry, what-“ he began, but his friend mowed him down in an effort to run further into the dungeons.

Ron gave chase, but didn’t bother asking his friend any more questions. Harry only stopped when he stumbled upon an anxious looking Slytherin boy. “Where is Malfoy?” Harry demanded.

“He’s gone,” the boy replied, shaking slightly.

“What do you mean, gone?” he asked, grabbing the boy’s collar and shoving him against the wall. “I need him.”

“H-his mum,” the boy stammered. “He’s gone to visit her, but I’m sure I could help you,” the boy added a bit more boldly as he ran his hands over Harry’s tight abdomen. Harry dropped the boy at once and turned around. Maybe Snape was telling the truth about Draco, the boy did opt for a visit with his mum instead of storming into Snape’s detention to see him.

“Oh, Harry,” a voice called from further down the hall. Harry turned to see Hermione standing there holding a thick volume and she had tears streaming down her face. “I had no idea, Harry.”

“No idea about what?” Harry asked, thoroughly perplexed and concerned that Hermione seemed so upset.

Hermione didn’t answer him, instead she grabbed his arm and dragged both him and her boyfriend through the school and up to the seventh floor, ignoring all their persistent questioning about what was happening as she went. Within moments the door to the Room of Requirement opened up and she pulled the boys inside. The room housed only a fireplace and three large comfortable chairs and Harry took a seat in the furthest one while Hermione took the next and motioned for a dazed looking Ron to take the third.

“I’ve been trying to get to the library as much as possible over the past week,” she started to explain. “It’s been hard since I’ve also wanted to stick by your side as well, Harry.”

“And?” Harry muttered, fully aware of her sentry guard duties.

“And it’s taken me longer than usual to find what I had been researching,” she added. “Malfoy told me to look up the word ‘Incubus’ and I did. I found nothing at first, and then only vague references to vampire-like creatures who hunt in the night.”

“Harry’s a vampire?” Ron asked, his eyes widening further as he shifted awkwardly in his chair.

“Obviously not,” Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. “Really Ron, do you know nothing about Vampires?” she asked, but Ron only shrugged and seemed to relax slightly.

“Would you please get on with your point, Mione?” Harry asked anxiously.

“Well, while you were in detention I was searching the restricted section for anything that might reference Incubi and, well, I found something,” she said, gesturing to the large book in her lap. “It was wedged between ‘Most Potent Orgasms’ and ‘Octopi: A Guide to Life with Tentacles’. It’s called ‘Night Terrors: Not Always a Bad Thing’.”

“What? I’m not having night terrors,” Harry laughed, still thinking of the other books she had mentioned.

“No, but in one passage I read earlier in the week, the Incubi are said to stalk people at night –giving them what some believe to be night terrors,” she explained. “It’s an ancient species, usually likened to Vampires because like them the Incubi have to feed on humans in order to survive. Only they don’t feed on blood…” she told them, her voice trailing off.

“What do they feed on?” Ron asked, swallowing thickly and burrowing further into his chair.

“Sex,” Harry answered for her. The explanation clicked and Harry buried his face in his hands. “I feed on sex, I feel like an open wound with salt being poured into it unless…” Harry trailed off as well unable to say the words out loud.

“Holy shit, Harry,” Ron exclaimed. “You have to have sex or you’ll die?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know about die, but sometimes I want to because it hurts so bad.”

“That’s brilliant!” Ron shouted and then began coughing slightly. “Mione, I think I’m coming down with a case of Incubus.”

Harry snickered slightly but Hermione only glared at her boyfriend. “Ron this is serious. If you don’t start acting like it maybe I’ll give Harry permission to relieve himself with you.” That sobered Ron right up and he immediately cleared his throat and sat up attentively.

“According to this text, Harry, you will die if your… desire… isn’t quenched,” she told him seriously.

“How do you know that this is me?” Harry asked. “I mean, I get that Malfoy told you to look it up, but what makes you so sure I’m this Incubus thing?” Malfoy told him that was what he was as well, but Harry wasn’t in the mood to trust anyone at the moment.

“It describes the way you’re feeling exactly how you described it to us yourself. A burning fire in your veins unless in the throws of sexual release. Harry, all this time I didn’t listen. I’m so sorry, please forgive me,” she begged.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Harry muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest. “So does it say anything else?”

“Well, it explains that most people are drawn to the Incubi, making their feeding easier, which explains why so many people are flinging themselves at you,” she noted. “It also goes on to explain why people like Ron and I remain unaffected by the pull.”

“Why is that?” Ron asked.

“If you’d like to know, you are welcome to pick up a book, Ronald,” she announced with a bit of a blush. Ron simply rolled his eyes and pulled the volume out of her lap. It was marked in several places with scraps of parchments with Hermione’s delicate notes and as Ron scanned, his eyes grew wider.

“You love me?” he asked suddenly, his face flushing a brilliant crimson.

Hermione’s cheeks blushed to match soon enough, but she quickly regained her composure and sat up a little straighter. “Well, unless you’ve been harboring a deep feeling of lust for our Harry then it seems logical that you must love me as well,” she quipped. “According to the book, people already in love won’t be able to smell the intoxicating pheromones that you’re giving off since your change,” she added, directing the explanation to Harry.

“I do love you,” Ron blurted, his eyes never leaving Hermione’s face.

“I should leave you two alone,” Harry mused, getting up and backing out of the room. “Can I borrow the book?”

Hermione flung it at him without even turning to look at Harry, her eyes were all for Ron. Harry made a quick escape before he was forced to witness his two friends going at it, and held the book close to his chest. Finally he had some answers, not all of them surely, but something to quell the devouring beast inside him for now.

Author's Note: So, a little more about the Incubus, another nice Ron (who knew my black heart was capable of forgiving him at long last) and a very twisted Snape, who lied to his own Godson... whatever shall we do?