The Price of Infatuation

Summary: This fic was originally part of the ´Infinite Cantatum´ Harry/Severus AU Fuh-Q-Fest (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/After_class/). Challenge: 52. What if Severus was the one who bought the Firebolt, not Sirius? (Carol)

Disclaimer: The story is based on characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended; no monetary gain will be made from this story.

Author’s Notes: Harry did not lose his Nimbus 2000 to the Whomping Willow tree in this third year; he is still using his trusty broom at the start of this story. Sirius is still his godfather, but is not a large influence in Harry’s life. This was written before I read the Order of the Phoenix, so Harry’s timeline will appear different than cannon.


*~*~*~*~
The Price of Infatuation
*~*~*~*~
11:58 pm – July 30th

Harry looked into the evening sky from his neat, tiny bedroom at #4 Privet Drive. The night was clear and crisp; he could see a few stars, but the ambient light of Little Winnig obscured most of them.

He heard the sound of laughter from the kitchen below. Harry looked toward his locked bedroom door. It was very strange that the Dursleys were still awake; they were creatures of habit and were usually asleep by 10:30.

11:59 pm

In one minute the slender green-eyed wizard would be sixteen. He knew it was doubtful that he had been born exactly at midnight on July 31st, but he had always marked that time as the moment of his birth.

Looking back into the night sky, he saw an odd shape in the sky approaching Privet Drive. He had seen that odd shape several years earlier and stepped back from his window. A tiny ball of feathers flew into his window moments before the larger mass flumped onto his bed. His snowy owl, Hedwig, and a Hogwarts school owl were supporting the crumpled form of Errol, the Weasley’s ancient barn owl. Pigwidgeon hooted softly and landed on the bed, gently nudging the unconscious owl.

Harry quickly removed the parcel attached to Errol’s leg. A soft hoot of thanks told him the old owl was still alive.

After being relieved of his package, the Hogwarts owl hooted once and took off through the window, not stopping for water or a treat. Hedwig nipped at his hair as he removed her burden. In a move of surprise maturity Pig, Ron’s hyperactive mini owl, remained still long enough for Harry to remove a roll of parchment.

12:07 am – July 31st

Harry heard the wood protest as the weight of Vernon Dursley lumbered up the staircase. The young wizard set out water and treats for the owls and tucked the sleeping Errol into a nest of Dudley’s enormous t-shirts beside Hedwig’s cage. The locks on his door were drawn and Harry saw the large silhouette of his uncle filling the doorway. He squinted at the bright light from the hallway.

“Boy,” Uncle Vernon hissed. “You have until 1:00 to clear out…I want every trace of your abnormality removed from my house.”

“U-uncle Vernon?” Harry looked at the huge man in shock.

The neck less man’s mustache twitched in ill concealed amusement. “And take those ruddy birds too….I’ll burn anything that remains.”

Harry heard his uncle descend the stairs and the delighted laughter of his aunt and cousin a moment later.

Harry shook off the shock and began to look around his bedroom. Opening his wardrobe, he grasped the handles of his school trunk and hauled it to the center of the room. His mind in controlled panic, he began to stack his schoolbooks into the trunk, followed by his cauldron.

“Remain calm,” he whispered under his breath. “Think.”

Harry quickly gathered his toiletries from the bathroom and tucked them into a plastic bag. He added that to the neatly stacked clothing and parchments. Without looking at them, his birthday presents, cards and letters were added. A nervous glance at the alarm clock showed he still had twenty minutes.

Kneeling beside his bed, he opened his secret compartment in the floor. Tucking his wand into his waistband and a pouch of wizard currency in his jeans pocket, he added his photo albums into the trunk. His invisibility cloak was set aside.

Hedwig and Pig watched sleepily from atop Harry’s headboard. Adding a bag of owl treats and the now empty water dishes to the trunk, Harry performed a simple enlargement charm on the cage and secured the three owls inside. Due to the rise of Voldemort, the Ministry had rewritten its underage wizardry laws to permit sixteen-year-old wizards living in the Muggle world to perform magic while on school holidays.

“I know it will be cramped, but I’ll let you out just as soon as I figure out where I am going.”

Ten minutes left. Harry checked his wardrobe, desk and dresser for forgotten items. He removed several posters and drawings from his walls. He left behind a pile of Dudley’s castoffs and shook out his bed linen.
He added the quill and rune stone he found under his bed. With a final look around the bedroom, he added the alarm clock and locked his trunk.

With seven minutes to spare, Harry pulled on a Weasley sweater over his t-shirt and jeans, and pulled a bicycle cap onto his head to hide his scar. He placed a featherlight charm on the owl cage and reduced the trunk to fit in his pocket. He tied the invisibility cloak into a loose knot around his waist and pulled his baggy sweater over it. Grasping his Nimbus 2000 racing broom in one hand and the owl cage in his other, he silently descended the stairs.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were waiting in the foyer. Uncle Vernon opened the front door, reached into his trouser pocket and threw a wad of crumpled pound notes and change out the door. Harry paused, opened the door to the cupboard beneath the stairs and crawled in, returning with an old cigar box containing his toy horse figures and soldiers, and a ragged baby blanket. Dudley took a step back in alarm as Harry drew his wand and reduced the box, adding it to his pockets. The blanket was draped over the owl cage to make them feel secure.

“You took everything?”

“I think so, Uncle Vernon.”

“I don’t care what those freaks at your school say….you are never to come back here….Understand me, Boy?”

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

Harry stepped through the doorway onto the small stoop. He swallowed to keep his stomach from heaving.

“Boy.” Harry looked up into his uncle’s grinning face. “Happy sixteenth birthday.”

The door slammed shut, laughter echoing in Harry’s ears.

“Accio Muggle money,” he whispered as the porch light went out and the meager collection of notes and coins gathered in his hand.

*~*~*~*
Hedwig let out a confused hoot as Harry began to walk away from Privet Drive for the last time, trying hard not to jostle the cage too much. Stopping in the small park on Magnolia Crescent, Harry held his wand into the air and summoned the Knight Bus.

After a moment, he heard the distinctive boom, a flash of light, and the purple triple-decker bus careened to a stop beside him. Thankfully, Stan and Ernie were not driving that evening, so Harry was able to travel in total anonymity.

Harry paid his fare and passed by several occupied beds. He set the owl cage and broom on the foot of the bed and curled up into the top two thirds, deep in thought. How anyone could fall asleep on this bus he never knew. After watching the witch beside him spill hot chocolate onto her pillow for the second time he was glad he had declined the beverage.

“Next stop, The Leaky Cauldron, London,” the conductor called. “Ten minutes.”

Harry reduced his Nimbus 2000 and tucked it into his pocket with his school trunk. Stealthily, he untied the invisibility cloak from around his waist and gathered the silky fabric in his hand. A number of witches and wizards disembarked at The Leaky Cauldron. In the distractions that followed the loading and unloading of passengers, Harry slipped beneath the cloak and slid into the busy pub. Careful to avoid contact, the slim wizard ducked behind the bar and waited for Tom to have a calm moment.

Without asking questions, Tom hurried the still invisible wizard into a room behind the bar. In the battle of Light and Dark, Tom was a neutral player with friends on both sides, but Tom was first and foremost a great-great grandfather and he would have defended any child with his life.

Tom waved for one of his employees to take over the bar for a few minutes. The old wizard moved Harry and the owls to a secret safe room. Only after Harry had floospoke to Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall on a secure fireplace did Harry curl up in an overstuffed chair, nibble on the light snack Tom brought, and doze off, covered in a garish multi-colored crocheted afghan that Tom’s wife or daughter must have made from leftover wool.

Harry awoke a little after 5:00 am when Professor McGonagall flooed into the pub and brought him back into the relative safety of Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall, Potions Master Severus Snape, Madam Pinz and the caretaker Argus Filch were the only current human residents of Hogwarts. The other staff members, with the exception of the house elves, were on holiday and even Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was visiting his brother Alberforth in Denmark.

With no place to hide and under pointed questioning by both professors, Harry was forced to admit to the fifteen years of abuse he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. When a quick scan of the too slender wizard revealed signs of malnutrition, Severus Snape was dispatched to check Madam Pomphrey’s stores for the nutrient potion she administered to students showing signs of anorexia.

Minerva McGonagall was in full “mother cat” mode; she had warned Albus Dumbledore that the Muggles were unsuitable guardians and Harry had been made to unnecessarily suffer fifteen years of neglect and emotional abuse. Harry decided that it was a good thing Professor Dumbledore was away because Professor McGonagall with her claws out was even more frightening than Professor Snape in a full snit.

*~*~*~*
With the continued threat from Voldemort and his Death Eaters, it was decided that Harry would spend the next month at Hogwarts for his own protection. He would help Mr. Filch with Professor Sprout’s greenhouses and gardens, and, if needed, help the professors ready their rooms for the coming semester.

Harry did not leave the school grounds for the remainder of the summer. He continued to owl his friends and godfather, but it was deemed too dangerous for the Weasley clan to arrange Harry’s usual summer visit. He ordered his supplies by Owl Post and they were sent to Hogwarts with Professor Snape’s potion ingredients and the Infirmary supplies.

*~*~*~*
Severus Snape studied the young man methodically stocking the First Year through Third Year Potions cabinets. Harry had been helping him the past few days repackaging some of the bulk supplies and restocking the cabinets and storerooms. Severus was forced to reevaluate his long held animosity toward the younger wizard.

The young man continued to surprise him. Harry had not panicked when he found himself abandoned by that idiot Muggle uncle with barely enough Muggle currency to purchase a plate of fish and chips from a corner pub, he had agreed with and not complained when Minerva informed him it would be unsafe to leave the school grounds or to visit with friends and he had performed his tasks diligently, without complaint. He had even managed to do the impossible; Harry Potter had made peace with Mrs. Norris, Filch’s skeletal cat.

Harry had matured a great deal over the years; the silly, foolish Gryffindor began to disappear from the moment his name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire and he was totally gone the moment Cedric Diggory’s body was pried from his arms. What remained was a fierce, introspective young man who Severus realized was looking and acting less like James Potter and more like Lily Evans.

*~*~*~*
To cut the awkward silence when they first began organizing the potions storerooms, Severus picked an ingredient and asked Harry what he knew about it. The wizard’s knowledge surprised him. Soon, they began discussing other things. Gone was the Muggle-raised boy who had never heard of asphodel and wormwood; Harry had attacked his fifth year with a fervor that nearly put Hermione Granger to shame and he had dropped any course that would serve no purpose in the fight against Voldemort. To Professor Trelawny’s dismay, the first course he dropped was Divination. Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures soon followed only to be replaced by Battle Magic, Intermediate Mediwizardry and secret instruction by Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick in Wandless Magic.

As the other professors began to arrive, Harry helped them get their classrooms in order. Flitwick, Trelawny and Vector only needed him for several hours. He spent several days helping Hagrid and Flich with the Owlery and several more days with Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary.

Severus continued to study Harry. Once he began to see the green eyed young man without his own filter of paternal hatred, he realized that not many people actually saw Harry. The Dursleys saw a freak that needed to be controlled through abuse; the wizarding world saw a one dimensional cartoon savior. But very few people saw the real Harry, an emotionally damaged, affection starved sixteen year old.

Several days before the start of term, Severus awoke early and decided to take a walk before breakfast. A flash of color over the Quidditch Pitch caught his attention. Harry was practicing; the preciseness of his maneuvers left Severus transfixed. Over the years, the Seeker had honed his skills; his Wronski Feints were some of the best Severus had ever seen, including those by the professional players. As the Potion Master watched Harry turn tightly through the goal hoop, he wondered how much better the wizard would perform with a top of the line racing broom. His five-year-old Nimbus 2000 was a dinosaur among racing brooms.

*~*~*~*
Harry was not blind to Severus observing him. He was glad that they seemed to have arrived at some sort of truce, almost a friendship. He had examined his feelings toward the Potion Master after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and realized that Severus wore even more masks than he did. He also realized that the man never really hated him. The Wizard Debt owed James Potter had been paid in full by his first year, but Severus continued to protect him and the confrontational attitude was merely an attempt to keep him grounded.

*~*~*~*
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table and waited for the students to arrive from the Hogwarts Express. He had almost convinced Professor McGonagall to let him ride the train, but in the end, she decided it was better to err on the side of caution.

Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him, happy to be back at school. They both chatted excitedly about their summers. Hermione and her parents had traveled throughout Eastern Europe and the Weasleys had visited Charlie in Romania.

“So Harry,” Hermione asked. “What is summer at Hogwarts really like? Did you spend lots of time in the library researching your homework?”

Ron snorted but Harry smiled. “It was nice to be able to spread out and take my time doing my homework without worrying about my uncle, but the library was closed. Madam Pinz and the house elves spent the summer cleaning, repairing and reshelving every book in the library. Nearly Headless Nick and The Grey Lady were helping her as well, although I’m not sure how. They just finished yesterday.

“I practiced flying when I wasn’t helping out the professors, but it wasn’t much fun by myself. Madam Hooch and Professor Vector came out for a couple of scrambles though. They kept trying to get Snape on a broom, but he was too busy brewing potions for Madam Pomfrey.”

“I’d like to see that greasy git on a broom.” Seamus joined into the conversation.

“You’ve seen him fly…he’s refereed Quidditch games before…and anyway…he’s really not greasy.”

Ron’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean he’s not greasy? Look at him.”

Harry laughed. “I spent over a week sorting potion ingredients with him. His hair was clean and pulled back in a pony tail and his skin is as pale as Malfoy’s.

“The last day I was down there, he began to brew potions for the Infirmary. The first thing he did was rub a protective lotion on his exposed skin…It makes the skin look yellow…and the hair potion protects his hair from sparks and prevents stray falling hair from contaminating the cauldron.”

Seamus shot Severus a quick look. “You’re not going to tell me he’s a looker out of class, are you? Because if you are, you inhaled too many fumes in the dungeons.”

Harry’s eyes flickered over the severe Potion Master. A smirk played at his lips; the man’s masks were back in place. “He’s too skinny and his nose has been broken too many times for him to ever be considered handsome, but you know what they say about a pretty face…”

The Sorting Ceremony began and the distractions that followed ended all speculation on Harry’s odd opinion of the Potion Master. Harry’s eyes drifted to the other tables and he noticed Pansy Parkinson at the Slytherin table. She was staring at her head of house with a look of absolute adoration.

“Harry.” Hermione nudged him. Ron had moved to talk with Seamus and Dean about Quidditch and Neville had slid into Ron’s seat. “What’s so fascinating about the Slytherin table?”

He jolted. He had not realized he was being obvious. “Look at Pansy.”

Hermione giggled. Neville smiled. “She always has fancied the snarky git…I think I noticed it third year.”

“He’s not that bad ‘Mione,” Neville said under his breath. Months of remedial tutoring with Snape the previous year had helped to cure his fright of the professor.

“No, he’s not.” Harry agreed. “I saw a bit of the man behind the mask this summer…. Neville, how is your grandmother doing?”

“Gran is out of St. Mungo’s…She’s not home though. Uncle Algie is taking care of her. Cousin Sidney is still taking care of Gran’s house.” Mrs. Longbottom, Neville’s imposing grandmother had suffered a stroke late in the fifth year. Uncle Algie’s adult son had moved into the Longbottom Estate in her absence; the younger wizard had proved to be a good influence for Neville, and the man’s kind attentions had done wonders for the young wizard’s self esteem. Still shy, but a little more sure of himself, even his clumsiness had abated somewhat as he grew into his body.

When Hermione began to speak with Lavender, Neville nudged Harry and whispered into his ear. “It’s not just Pansy that fancies him, you know. Hannah Abbott and Mandy Brocklehurst…Percy Weasley did too, you know? But he always has had a thing for powerful wizards…”

“What about you?” Harry knew that Neville liked men.

“Oh, he still can scare the hell out of me…but his voice…”

Harry knew what Neville meant about the professor’s voice. It’d deep, smoky quality and its dangerous purr had awoken a feeling in Harry over the summer, and he wasn’t sure what to think about it.

*~*~*~*
Severus was at a loss; he was running out of ideas to deal with Pansy Parkinson’s infatuation. He thought that she was a lovely girl, but she had been raised to be an ornament, and, even if he had been looking for a companion, which he was not, he would have no need of a trophy wife.

Her clothes had become revealing and her make up a bit too harsh. Her subtle movements had become blatant. In an attempt to make herself more alluring, she had cheapened herself. She was making a fool of herself in front of the school and that was a very un-Slytherin thing to do.

Her friends had tried to talk with her and, sensing Severus’ growing discomfort, fellow Slytherin Professor Sinistra had even invited Pansy to tea for a little heart to heart chat.

*~*~*~*
Severus stripped down a dozen long stemmed, red roses left “anonymously” at his workbench into their separate potion ingredients during the combined 6th Year Slytherin-Gryffindor Double Potions class. He knew it was a cruel thing to do to a young woman’s heart, but he was tired of the humiliation her infatuation brought to him and he really did need fresh rose thorns for an experimental potion he was working on.

The class, knowing fully well who the roses had come from, cast cautious glances at Pansy. Pansy, who was paired with Harry that day, kept her head up, no emotion showing on her attractive face. Harry was not deceived; the trembling of her hands as she sliced her willow root betrayed her. Harry felt sorry for her as he remembered his own pathetic crush on Cho Chang his fourth and fifth years.

“Pansy,” he whispered.

“What is it, Potter? Going to laugh at me too?”

“No. Just…you’re trying too hard.”

”And you’re an expert, Golden Boy?” she spat. “All those presents from all your admirers make you an expert?”

“Pansy, think about it. Of all of those who throw themselves at me…how many have I actually gone out with?”

Pansy looked at Harry in surprise. “None.”

“Very good…do you know why?”

“They’re not good enough for the Boy Who Lived?”

Harry winced at the hated title. “They want the Boy Wonder…to be able to say they snogged the Boy Who Lived…none of them have ever made any attempt to know me…Harry. That’s the mistake they make…and that’s the mistake you’re making with Snape…. It’s time to add the three moth wings.

Pansy added the three moth wings to their potion, stirring the cauldron three times clockwise and twice counterclockwise. Maybe Potter wasn’t as stupid as she thought he was; she glanced to the front of the class, watching her beloved Severus cautiously examine Goyle and Longbottom’s mixture. She would try to get to know the real Severus; maybe he would love her then.

*~*~*~*
To say that Madam Pomfrey hated the game of Quidditch would be an understatement. Less than a half-hour into the first game of the season – Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw, Professor Flitwick had already levitated in an unconscious Ravenclaw Chaser. Not fifteen minutes later, Gryffindor Keeper Seamus Finnegan followed with a broken arm, escorted by Professor Snape.

The far away cheers of the Quidditch Pitch broke the silence in the Infirmary. The game was tied 30-30. It was a rebuilding year for all the teams; so many of the first string players had been reserve players or had changed positions and even more were playing for the first time. Because they were still inexperienced, many dangerous mistakes were being made. The bludgers were spinning out of control and the quaffle was being clumsily passed.

Harry, one of the few players returning to his old position, was keeping one eye on the game and the search for the Snitch and a second one on Stewart Ackerly, the nervous Third Year Ravenclaw playing his first game as Seeker. He had pulled the boy out of the path of a rogue bludger twice already; if the boy did not grow eyes in the back of his heads soon, this could very well be his first and last game. Even Madam Hooch had shouted a “Heads Up!” at Stewart.

Severus was making his way back toward the game when a loud cry of alarm rose over the Pitch. He picked up his pace. He was just past the gardens when he saw Professor McGonagall levitating another Gryffindor player. Fred and George Weasley, who had come in from their joke shop in Diagon Alley for the game, were supporting a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw respectively.

Knowing Poppy would need help with three more injured players, the Potions Master returned to the Infirmary. After alerting the Mediwitch to the situation, he held open the doors to the medical wing.

George set the Ravenclaw Seeker on a bed and began removing the boy’s shin guards. He had no obvious injuries, but seemed to be in deep shock. George waved the matron toward the more injured Gryffindors.

“Dean and Harry need more help than this git…I’ll get his gear off…Ravenclaw better have a Reserve Seeker lined up because this one is a menace to himself and every other player on the pitch.”

Dean Thomas, Gryffindor Beater, had facial contusions and an apparent broken nose and cheekbone. His left arm was hanging at an odd angle. Severus determined it was a dislocated shoulder and a broken collarbone. Fred helped the dazed young man out of his Quidditch robes.

Harry was immobile but his eyes were a wild green; the pupils were unevenly dilated indicating some sort of head trauma and both of his legs were at odd angles. In his arms he clutched his Nimbus 2000, the handle snapped nearly in two.

“I immobilized him to keep him from thrashing and causing more damage.” Professor McGonnogal told the nurse. “Severus, we need to have a meeting with the heads of house regarding Quidditch…Mr. Ackerly had no business being on that Pitch today; his inexperience nearly killed someone.”

“What happened?” Poppy inquired as she magiced Harry’s clothing off, afraid to cause additional suffering by removing it the conventional way. After running a quick diagnostic, she enervated the thin wizard. He had a mild concussion, three broken ribs and two broken legs.

Fred spoke. “The teams are raw right now so they are not as in control of the game as they should be. This little one froze when he saw a bludger coming at him.”

George continued. They were still finishing one another’s conversations. “Both Harry and Dean saw it and they collided with one another trying to force Stu out of the way. The bludger hit them and Harry’s broom snapped. They spun into one of the goal posts…Dean spiraled through the hoop catching his shoulder on the rim. Harry hit the support post dead on.

“Several of us had our wands out so we were able to slow their decent. Professor McGonagall placed a levitation charm so they didn’t hit the ground.”

Fred indicated the Ravenclaw. “Madam Hooch pulled him out of the sky.”

Severus gently pried Harry’s hands off his shattered racing broom and set it where the Seeker could still see it.

*~*~*~*
In the weeks that followed Severus noted that Pansy seemed to be outgrowing her infatuation with him. Even though she continued to bring tea to his office in the evenings while he was grading papers, he was relieved that the other trappings of misplaced affection seemed to disappear. Occasionally he even allowed himself to be drawn into simple conversations, but he did that with other Slytherin students as well, so he thought nothing of it.

*~*~*~*
Severus watched still another anonymous Postal Owl deliver mail to Harry. Normally he didn’t pay much attention to owls that landed outside of the Slytherin table, but Harry so rarely received mail that it struck him as odd until he realized that they were racing broom catalogs.

Everyone seemed to have an opinion on the type of broom Harry should buy to replace his Nimbus 2000, but the young wizard himself voiced no opinions. Once he had been deemed healed enough to fly again, Harry had borrowed several of the Quidditch players brooms. The different makes and models all reacted differently. He even tried out all the unclaimed school brooms and finally picked out an ancient Cleensweep Seven that he painstakingly refurbished to use until he purchased a broom of his own.

Severus watched Harry practice on the old broom in the early morning hours. The young man was still as graceful as ever, but even with the lack of competition on the other teams and the modifications made to the broom, it was barely adequate. The Potion Master watched as Harry pulled out of a badly maneuvered Wronski Feint. There just wasn’t enough power in that old Cleensweep; a wizard with Harry’s skills needed a top quality racing broom.

It was a good thing Draco Malfoy had grown too tall to play Seeker, thought Severus.

As the Christmas holidays approached, the Gryffindor Quidditch team stopped nagging Harry about getting a new broom; he refused to discuss it and, finally, even Ron and Seamus backed down. Ron hoped, but never voiced it, that Father Christmas was bringing Harry a proper broom.

*~*~*~*
The morning of the first day of Christmas Break found a collection of students and faculty that barely filled the corner of a dining table. Since twelve students were remaining, only Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid and Severus remained. Even Argus Filch had left to visit a sister. Harry found himself alone in the Gryffindor Tower.

Harry spread his papers out in a quiet corner of the Library. He casually noticed Pansy pull a book from inside her jumper and return it to a shelf in the Restricted Section. A look of panic crossed her face when she realized Harry was watching her, but she smiled nervously in relief when he merely shrugged his shoulders and went back to his list of figures in a Muggle notebook. The racing broom catalogs were in a pile beside his Transfiguration homework; he ran his fingers longingly over a photograph of a Firebolt. Irritated with himself, he piled the catalogs on top of his notebook, elastic banded them all together with a Muggle calculator, and shoved it into his book bag.

Severus Snape searched the aisles of the Library. As he passed Pansy he greeted her with a polite nod to his head and noticed, to his discomfort, that the predatory gleam in her eyes had returned. He strode over to Harry, the only other student using the library.

“Mr. Potter.”

“Sir?”

“I need to make some salves for the Infirmary. Would you have time to assist me after lunch?”

Since the start of school, Harry occasionally helped Severus brew medicinal potions for extra credit in his Mediwizardry class. Severus liked the quiet company of the younger wizard and, truth be told, while he normally liked the solitude of his dungeons, the holiday gaiety made the solitude oppressive.

*~*~*~*
Pansy entered Professor Snape’s workroom with what she hoped was a seductive sway to her hips. She was delighted to see his hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and that his skin was clear of the protective lotion.

“Good afternoon, Professor.” She slid next to him. “Not brewing anything caustic today?”

“No. Salves and lotions. Would you like to help us?”

Pansy missed the word “us” as she set a pot of tea and two mugs on the counter. “I brought you some tea.”

“Thank you, Miss Parkinson. Mr. Potter is in the storeroom. He might like one as well.”

Harry exited the storeroom at that moment, quilted mitts on his hands, holding a rack of freshly sterilized vials and stoppers. He was surprised by the look of utter loathing on the witch’s face before her mask slid back into place. Declining the offer of tea, he set the rack on the workbench and returned to the boiling cauldron in the storage room, ready to add another rack of vials. He shook off the uneasy feeling Pansy’s glare had given him.

Severus carefully filled the sterile vials with a thin bluish gel and stoppered them before sealing them with fresh wax. He took several sips of the hot tea before moving to check a slowly simmering cauldron. He doused the flame with a wave of his hand and set a small timer. He took several more distracted sips of the tea before moving on to a mortar and pestle beside bowls of dried herbs. Severus never noticed the satisfied smile on Pansy’s face.

As he carefully ground the mint leaves to a fine powder, a wave of warmth coursed through the dark wizard’s body. It was suddenly too warm in the workroom; Severus removed his robe and folded it neatly over a stool.

Pansy’s eyes roamed over the tall wizard’s form. He looked wonderful with the deep green pullover and the slim fitting trousers. Her fingers ached to pull his hair loose from the ponytail.

Severus clutched the edge of the workbench as several waves of warmth rushed through his body. What was causing the hot flashes? His razor sharp mind cataloged all the ingredients he had been using as well as all of the possible contamination consequences and didn’t come up with anything that could cause the reaction. Realization hit him in a flash.

“Pansy, what did you put in the tea?”

*~*~*~*
Harry set another rack of sterile vials on a workbench and glanced over to Pansy and the professor. Severus’ skin was flushed as he clutched the edge of the bench.

“Pansy, what did you put in the tea?”

The professor began to sway as he took a step toward the witch. As another flash of heat ran through his body, the room began to spin. With Seeker reflexes, Harry was across the room catching the tall man as he pitched forward, and slowly eased them both to the floor.

“Pansy, what did you do?” Harry demanded as she knelt on the other side of Severus. She did not look at all alarmed; she looked pleased with herself.

Severus’ eyes flickered open and a feeling of arousal filled him as he looked up into the faces of his students. The bright blue eyes sparkled in anticipation; the emerald eyes were wide in confused concern. No one was more shocked than Harry when the Potions Master’s long thin arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders in a possessive hold. He was pulled into a swift and hungry kiss.

Harry jolted back in surprise. With a look of hatred, Pansy pushed him away and kissed the object of her affection. Severus flung her aside with a strong curse; wandless magic forced her from the room and into the hall. Harry heard her howl in frustration as the heavy door slammed shut, locked with a dull thud and glowed blue for a moment.

Harry scrambled to his feet and slowly backed up. With careful, panther like movements, the dark wizard approached, devouring the younger wizard with his obsidian eyes.

“P-professor?” Harry felt the edge of a workbench in his back. His heart was beating wildly. What had Pansy put in the tea?

Strong, gentle fingers caressed his face. Severus wondered why his mate was so terrified of him. He lifted the slim form and sat him on the workbench, equaling their heights. Slipping his thin frame between Harry’s knees, he pulled Harry’s hips firmly forward, initiating contact. The younger wizard jumped slightly and found his lips captured once again. Severus’ long, thin fingers ghosted over the slight form and he felt Harry tremble at his touch.

Severus’ hands caressed his back and one hand crept beneath the sweater and t-shirt Harry was wearing. The skin was smooth and warm; his fingers ran the length of Harry’s spine, counting the vertebrae. Both his hands caressed the torso, counting the ribs. It appeared he and his mate had something in common; they were both rail thin with too many bones and not enough natural padding.

Not satisfied with just touching the younger man, he wanted to taste him as well. Harry gasped as his Weasley sweater and underlying t-shirt were pulled over his head in a practiced move. His wand, which had been tucked up in a sleeve, clattered to the floor. Cold fingers crept over his skin and he shivered in the coolness of the dungeon workroom. Taking advantage, Severus slid his tongue between Harry’s lips. The kisses became deeper and more demanding. Severus grasped the slim hips and slowly rocked against them. Harry’s arousal built; with a soft moan he wrapped his legs around the tall man’s hips.

The alarm went off for the timed potion on the workbench beside them. With a muttered curse, Severus released his hold on Harry and strode to the bench carefully measuring the cooled solution into the waiting vials.

Harry shook himself. What was he doing? He hopped off the tabletop, adjusting his growing erection and bent down to retrieve his wand and sweater. Taking advantage of Severus’ distraction, he slowly crept toward the door, snagging his book bag on the way. He turned the handle and when it did not open, remembered the professor had sealed it with a spell.

“Alohamora,” he whispered, but the door did not budge. He tried to think of a stronger unlocking charm but his mind drew a blank. He found his feet abruptly lifted up from the floor and himself into those deceptively strong and possessive arms.

“Where do you think you are going?” Severus growled, tossing book bag, sweater and wand aside and bringing Harry back to the workbench. With a long arm around his waist, anchoring him to his hip, Harry watched Severus stopper and seal the vials. A quick wave of his wand, all the flames beneath the cauldrons extinguished. The soft glow from the storage room went out as well so Harry knew the cauldron he had used to sterilize the vials was no longer a potential fire hazard.

Part of Harry was offended that the Potion Master had not ignored the medicinal salve, but another part of him was amused that no matter how strong of an aphrodisiac – if that was what it was – Pansy had brewed, it could not over ride his devotion to potions.

“You’re so tense, Baby,” Severus nibbled suggestively on his ear. “What ever is the matter?”

“Professor…I…”

Why was his mate so formal, Severus wondered. He kissed and nipped at Harry’s throat. Harry tasted slightly salty with an undercurrent of vanilla bath soap. His cheek rested against a pulse point and a thought surfaced through his potion-fogged brain.

“Trust me,” Severus hissed in his ear as he pushed Harry’s shoulders back onto the cold tabletop. There was an odd gleam in his eye. “Petrificus Totalis.”

*~*~*~*
Immobilized, Harry could only look up at the ceiling. He could hear the professor searching through a potions cabinet and murmured spells of sterilization and of sharpening. His heart was pounding in his ears. What did Severus have in mind?

The older wizard slipped back into Harry’s line of vision. He set several items on the table beside Harry’s head. A cold alcohol pad was wiped across his throat and another in the crook of his arm. Severus kissed the scar on his forehead.

“Don’t be scared, Pretty Baby. It will only hurt a bit.”

Harry saw the flash of silver as Severus held a razor sharp knife to his neck. In deep concentration, the Potions Master made a nick into an artery at Harry’s throat, filling a sterile vial with the bright red liquid. A soft charm began the healing of the cut. After cleaning the blade, he lifted one frozen arm, holding it away from Harry’s body. He carefully sliced a shallow cut on a vein and filled another container. That incision was healed as well. A brisk tug and several strands of hair, root and all, were added to a third vial.

Severus licked a drop of blood leaking from the healing cut on his throat.

“Enervate.”

Harry’s teeth began to chatter, his body covered in goose bumps. His hand flew to his throat. “Wh-what…what are you doing?”

Severus gathered Harry into his arms as if he were a small child. His large hands rubbed the gooseflesh to warm it. “Needed to gather some necessary ingredients to brew a very special potion…not to worry.”

Harry’s mind flashed to the dozen red roses stripped down to their parts. He laughed oddly; was he too just something to be stripped down to his potion making ingredients?

“Blood of a virgin?”

Severus laughed a throaty laugh. “Silly Baby…your blood doesn’t change just because you’ve been fucked…Virgin blood…sacrifices…fairy tales to scare small children.”

“What kind of potion?” Harry inquired, not really wanting to know. Dark magic often relied on blood.

Severus caressed his cheek with a knuckle. “I’ll tell you later…you can help me brew it…but for now…” With a quick spell, Harry’s remaining clothing was removed. Harry made a panicked squeak and his hands flew protectively to his lap.

The professor thought his mate’s knobby knees were adorable. The slight form was awkward and ungainly in its nakedness; the pale flesh pink in embarrassment. The tall man pulled away the nervous hands, felt the sprite tremble beneath his fingers and knew it was not from the cold. The inexperienced kisses, the tentative touches, the blush of embarrassment told him what Harry had not.

The dark wizard devoured Harry’s mouth, sucking on his tongue, as one hand lazily petted the sparse hair on his chest and abdomen. The slight man jumped as the side of Severus’ arm brushed his erection.

“So innocent,” Severus thought. His fogged mind tried to sort out the situation. Why was his mate so scared? The smooth skin was delicious, but unfamiliar. This was obviously a new mate. What had happened to his old mate, he wondered. He ran a hand up the lightly furred thigh and felt the small form inhale sharply. He stared into the large green eyes.

“We’ve never been intimate with one another, have we?” he asked in realization.

Harry smiled shyly and shifted slightly. “First time with anyone…”

Harry sat up, intending to attempt to bolt for the door. This situation was getting weirder by the moment. He had fanaticized about Severus and even had a wet dream or two featuring him but never in his wildest imaginings had he pictured anything actually happening.

“I’m sorry…I should go before someone notices I’m missing…”

The professor’s hands caressed the bony hips. “And who is going to be missing you?”

Harry suddenly realized that there was no one to miss him. All his dorm mates had gone home for the holiday. Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid had taken most of the remaining students on a daylong adventure starting with a sleigh ride and ending in a late dinner in Hogsmeade to see the holiday decorations. There would be no Dumbledore appearing for a quick chat or a lemon drop and no Hagrid to show off a brand new beastie.

Severus lifted him off the tabletop and set him on the floor; it was cold against his bare soles. The older wizard pulled him to his chest, running his hands suggestively over Harry’s back and buttocks. He wanted to take his mate then and there, but realized that the room was freezing.

“Let’s take this somewhere warmer.” His voice was a growl of arousal.

~*~*~*~
TBC