My steps echo as I walk into the Quidditch change rooms, my nose wrinkled in disdain. All the horrid memories I ever had of actually trying out for Quidditch once come rushing back. This is certainly a place I don't want to be. But my goddaughter had a previous engagement with McGonagall. I should have known something was up when she came to me, purring for a favour. That girl has me wrapped around her finger and she knows it. But she never asks for much, so I usually do indulge her. This time, she almost had to strong-arm me into doing this for her.

I sigh as I notice the familiar lockers. Potter had better be here; if I have to search for him, I'll be in a much fouler mood. It wasn't much better before; dealing with a remedial first year Potions student does little to improve my temperament. The resulting mess that exploded from the cauldron was enough for me to order them from the classroom immediately.

The closed lockers pass by me as I walk along intently; this had better be quick. I pause, hearing the sound of water running. Someone's in the shower. Muttering a curse to myself, I slow my steps down until I come to the end of the lockers, and a short hallway that leads into the showers.

The thing about this particular hallway was that it was short and positioned in such a way that you could see directly into the showers. And right now, the sight before my eyes is making my cock stir to life. All I can see is Potter, naked from head to toe.

My eyes roam from his head to his feet, drinking in every single detail. His face is tilted up, allowing the water to strike his face full on and run smoothly through his hair and down his neck. His back is arched slightly and the water races down the slight groove of his spine, right down to his arse and over those slightly dimpled glutes. My lips are suddenly dry and lick them in a rather anticipatory manner. One of his hands reached out for the bar of soap, his slender fingers following the graceful lines of his arm and shoulder. His chest is still slim from youth, but even from here, I could tell they were planed with muscle. Hard firm, young muscle… Quidditch definitely agrees with Potter.

His chest had a rather light sprinkling of hair that trailed its way down to his hips, before disappearing in the dark thicket of black curls at his groin. And nestled there, in all of its youthful, limp glory was Potter's cock. My breath involuntary hitches, as I find myself unable to stop staring…though it should be referred to as ogling by now, since I have had ample time to look away.

Somehow, I manage to shift my eyes lower, taking in the sight of those long lean leg muscles that ripple as he pivots on his heel. My eyes snap back up to find those bright emerald depths squinting in my direction. I don't breathe, I don't move at all. A few minutes later, Potter turns back around, focusing his attention on his hair now. I exhale through my nose, wondering what could have set him off. Then I notice my foot on the spot of the floor that was creaky back when I was attending Hogwarts. I move my foot slightly; an obliging creak replied. Fortunately, Potter doesn't hear it this time. I don't even recall taking a step forward.

I slowly slide my foot off the spot and retreat away to a safe distance. There's a part of me that simply wants to flee back to my rooms and wank off as if there is no tomorrow. But I have to stay here and deliver Sora's dratted message. I close my eyes, trying to gain control over my body. It had been far too long since I've slept with another man.

This is certainly not what I wanted to see, though, I shall admit, it is a definite pleasure. I will certainly have that heavenly vision floating through my head when I go to sleep tonight.

Yes, this greasy git of a Potions teacher is gay, with a preference for younger men. I have known it since I was sixteen years old.

I like my men young, but intelligent and able to deal with the sometimes harsh realities of life. Hogwarts is full of rather idealistic foolish boys who think they can change the world. Fact of the matter is only a few of them will do just that. And the one I want is just a few feet away from me, naked as the day he was born and I can't do a bloody thing.

Just a few simple facts prevent me from proceeding: he is still underage and I do value my job here at Hogwarts. He thinks I am the world's biggest prat and doesn't do much to hide it. Basically those two. Yet, the sheer impudence he has; it's no wonder that I keep punishing him the way I do…

I quickly cut myself off from that train of thought; I'd much rather punish Potter for entirely different reasons in an entirely different way.

"Accio towel!"

I look up startled to see the large rectangle of white cloth fly towards the shower, followed by his glasses. Wandless magic. That's quite impressive indeed. I recline against a locker, trying to school my face into an expression of annoyance and asperity. He comes striding out with nothing more than the towel swathed around his hips. My jaw tightens a bit. There's a fleeting look of resignation and exasperation in his eyes.

"Yes, Professor?"

I can't see it anymore, but I can hear it, thick in his voice. "You certainly took your time." I manage to scowl somehow.

He regards me for a moment before walking to his locker; there's a distinctly unperturbed light in his eyes now. "I'm sure this isn't a social visit Professor. Have I done so horribly on an essay that you gave me a 'T' and came to gloat in your usual scathing manner?"

"If I were so lucky," I sneer; he actually did quite well on his last essay - an 'O' that had become typical of his work. "Since Sora had a pressing matter to attend to with McGonagall, I find myself in…this place." I curl my lip in distaste; that at least didn't necessitate fakery.

"Then what is it Professor?" he pulled on his boxers and pants before removing his towel, as if he's trying to escape from here in a hurry. "I have another assignment that I need to do."

I don't reply for a moment, seized by an incredibly foolhardy, and somewhat insane, urge to say 'Do me! Do me!' "Sora," I paused yet again, getting a grip on myself. "Wants you to go with her."

"Fine," Harry shrugs easily, as if he expected my words. "Along with you and Malfoy." He doesn't anything for a moment before muttering to himself. "She's really testing me here…but I guess she had no choice in sending Snape."

"Would you care to say that again, Potter?" I asked in a less than pleased tone; I had heard every word he uttered.

"I'd rather not Professor."

I frown at him. Such respectful impudence…the boy is learning. "And where did you surmise that I would be going?"

Harry gives a start, as if to laugh, but thinks the better of it. "And you wouldn't?" he glances at me slyly, reading my face as best he can. "Did you hear what Leiko said to Sora?"

"Hear what?" I demand in a rather cross voice.

The boy has the arrogance to smirk, but he hid it the moment it touches his face. He reaches into the open locker and pulls out a letter. "See for yourself." He said, holding out a folded piece of paper.

I take it, unfolding it rapidly. It was a letter from Alexandre. Understandable enough; he is Potter's uncle by blood. My eyes skim over the relatively unimportant parts. I can feel my face pale slightly when I see the word 'yokubuchi'; I have read enough on vampires and their customs to fully understand its implications for my goddaughter. I continue to read on. Alexandre has the bloody nerve to tell Harry about me ranting about him to Alexandre and Lucius. I suppress the growl that rose from my throat. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, he told the boy of my and Lucius' position within the Order. Only Dumbledore and select few were to know of Lucius' position. Not Potter, that much is for sure. Alexandre is a man with a rather twisted sense of humour; he knew full well how much that part alone would enrage me.

And that is why I didn't even attempt to suppress my growl at what I read next - the prat is offering my services to the boy, as if I am to be Potter's bloody confidante. I purposefully maintain my demeanour to prevent this exact sort of thing from happening. Listening to some hormonal teen prattle on about what they see as a 'serious' problem is not my thing and I prefer to not get involved. Potter may be opening his eyes, but there is till much he doesn't realize yet.

I shove the letter back into Potter's hand roughly, fingers brushing against his smooth, soft skin. "If you so much as breathe one word of this letter to another soul…" I let my words trail off. I had said them far more roughly than intended.

Harry simply gave that damnable shrug. "Since it does conform that you are Dumbledore's spy. Is something wrong, Professor?" he peers at me. "Did you think I simply swallow information from people like that and not think about it?"

I wish I could punish him for this right now; he simply read the surprise on my face like an open book. But then again, since his incensed outburst in Dumbledore's office, he's been changing. It's subtle and not well noticed, but it is there nonetheless. And it doesn't help me much, since it only makes me want him the more.

I want to swallow, but I force my lips into a scowl. "Make sure you are ready to leave tomorrow night; midnight. Be at Dumbledore's office. The password is 'apple spiders'."

I spin around on my heel abruptly to leave. If I stay here any longer, I'll eventually do something that I just might regret. That boy is almost damnable and so irresistible at the same time. I can feel his eyes boring into my back as I stalk off, the triumph it contains virtually prodding me further. Oh no, I simply won't leave it at this between us.

"Potter."

"Yes Sir?"

I can hear the sound of robes being shrugged into. I turn my head slightly to look at him. A shirt and a black robe covered up that wonderfully planed chest. I almost smile faintly to myself as I think of the perfect reason to see Potter once more alone.

"Once we get back, you will serve detention for your…impertinence."

I walk out before he can reply to that. Merlin, it took all my strength to walk out of there in my usual sweeping, foreboding manner. I make it all the way back to my rooms before shrugging out of my robes and collapsing down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling before I closed my eyes. I could still see Potter's glorious nude form, caressed by the water that was more privileged that I.

My hand slithers down, undoes my pants - allowing my half-engorged cock to spring free - and wrap my fingers around it with a hiss, imagining it to be Potter's hand, imagining Potter to be here in this room with me.

His nubile young body moves across the bed inhabiting my imagination, crawling towards me, where I lay, with a positively heavy lidded expression of lust in his emerald green eyes. A breath catches in my throat as that lithe figure slides over me, pressing against me.

Those perfect fingers brush over my clothed body. They slide down my nose and trace over my lips and down my chin. Lightly brushing over the collar of my high-necked robe, they press down with more force, seeking out the planes of my body.

I can feel his lips ghosting down after his fingers, breath caressing my skin in languid tendrils. A coil of excitement shoots directly to my groin, a slight moan coming from my mouth. Potter chuckles and murmurs something. Suddenly I find myself divested of clothes. A groan is pushed past my lips as Harry moulds himself to me. I don't think I can keep on finding it in myself to keep calling him Potter.

His teeth scrape against a nipple before he laves it with his tongue, soothing the harsh sting. Another jolt bolts down to my groin again. Harry's hand splay against my chest, his skin blazing to the touch. Small puffs of his breath wind down my abdomen as he slowly moves his ministrations downwards.

With a small growl, I roll him onto his back, wresting back control, and find myself greeted by a devilish smirk on his lips. Harry Potter is a minx, a temptation, a delight, an infuriation and so many other things I am not too sure how to describe.

"Fuck me, Severus." He whispers throatily, tongue flickering out to run along my ear. His hips rise up to mine, placing my swollen cock at his entrance. "Just take me now and fuck me good and hard."

And before I can do anything, he impales himself on me, his face contorted with pain and pleasure. Damn the little bugger; he just about made me come with that one exquisite expression on his face. His hips move back and forth slightly, urging mine to do the same.

I'm not exactly inclined to disagree with him, since I am in balls deep. But if it's a pounding he wants, I'm more than happy to give it to him.

He moans as I speed up slightly, biting one of those red lips hard, his eyes screwed up in ecstasy. And, as if in response to the ecstatic convolutions of his face, I thrust even harder, feeling my own climax coming rapidly. He's blindingly hot and incredibly tight. He wraps his legs around me waist, while he moans my name.

I snake a hand down and roughly start to fist his copiously weeping cock. He thrashes, head ground back against the bed linens, mouth wide open as he gasps erratically. A husky groan comes to my lips as well, I can feel him spasming around me, clutching me then releasing me in an uncertain pattern.

"Oh God, Severus, Severus, Severus!!"

My name erupts as a scream from his lips reverberating around me in a passion driven cry that spurns me to my own climax. His seed explodes from him, coating my hand as well as both our stomachs. The feel of him clamping down on me, trapping me within him is more than I can take. My own seed spurts out, filling him completely, for what seemed like ages. When I finally collapse back on the bed, I find that Harry has performed a cleaning charm and is snuggling in closer to me. My arms go around him, as I bury my nose in his hair, content to sleep and rest.

My eyelids refuse to move, but I make them. The light floods in, making me blink rapidly. My hand is covered with my cum, as well as my pants and some spots on the bed. Sighing, I take out my wand and clean up the mess easily before doing my pants back up. There are still many other things I must take care of.

At least I don't have to supervise detention for Harry…Potter, I cannot allow myself the luxury of referring to him as Harry. Merlin know how it would be taken if I accidentally slipped up while teaching the class.

Harry…Potter…

My mind wanders down that path again, almost instantly before I realize it, wondering what it would be like to have those lips of his around my cock, suckling, licking, and teasing. I groan as my own cock immediately stirs to life. I certainly don't need any other work now. What I need is a shower; I need a long, cold shower.