Lunch break; why do I hate eating in here? Ah yes; the room is filled with mindless chatter and every time, I attempt to eat something, one of my colleagues takes it upon themselves to try and initiate a conversation with me. I figured they would have learned by now that unless I say something, I don’t want to be talked to at all. I guess they seem me as some sort of case that needs attention in order to come out of the proverbial thorny shell.

I think I’d rather add on more thorns to keep them at bay than suffer their well meaning intentions.

If there’s one thing I am thankful for, it’s that my seat is the one closest to the door. I’ve slipped out so many times and no one’s noticed or even the wiser. Today seems particularly louder than usual. So, I just have to finish eating and then I can be on my way.

I look down at my plate to still see a fried halibut fillet as well as some chips as well. Of course, eating something before I go is an even better idea.

I start eating quickly, eyes moving from spot to spot in the room. Ravenclaws are sitting there with books out at the table; studying as usual. The Hufflepuffs are quietly socializing amongst themselves. At the Gryffindor table, almost all of the first years are acting melodramatically as Weasley is kissing Granger. Potter looks mildly relieved and starts on his lunch. Undoubtedly because Granger’s not yapping as she usually…I narrow my eyes as I spy his hand. What on Earth did he do to it? From the way it’s bandaged, it looks like he gashed himself. I look away quickly, not wanting to arouse suspicion. When did that happen? Did Poppy look after that, or did he bandage himself up? What if he was poisoned by something and-

‘For Merlin’s sake Severus, it’s probably nothing more than a small cut!’ I bite down savagely on a chip, feeling greatly irritated at myself. ‘Quit acting like a lovesick fool! You cannot have Potter!’ Harry. The thought occurs to me that I shouldn’t even have to correct myself. ‘Potter! You mean Potter, not Harry.’ Harry, Harry, Harry, with those kissable lips, emerald green eyes, undoubtedly smooth skin and… ‘Argh, damn it! This is hopeless!’

I scowl down at my plate. Every time I resolve to not think of him any differently, it fails miserably. Harry is undeniably attractive - that eternally messy black hair that curls down into his green, green eyes. His skin looks flawless, tanned a light golden colour from being in the sun so much. And those dark coral pink lips that haunt my sleep, that beg for a kiss.

I look down at my plate realizing I’ve eaten a total of three or four chips. And that’s if I’m lucky. I sigh and quickly eat the halibut filet before reaching for my cup. I was surveying the room, to see what was going on. I forgot to even look at my house’s table. I sniff my cup; red wine. It would suffice for now, although it seems rather peculiar to have with a meal of fried fish and chips.

I take a sip and survey my table and find myself a bit disconcerted. All the boys are sitting on one side, and all the girls on the other. It’s even stranger that they’re sitting in respect to years. All the first years in one segment, second years and so forth. It looks a bit strange to anyone else, but downright bothersome to me. They haven’t clumped together in their usual groups and -

I nearly choke on the wine sliding down my throat. Dear Merlin, just what is my goddaughter doing?!

It’s rather hard to keep my jaw from not dropping to the ground. Sora is eating breakfast. As well as seducing every single seventh year boy who has their eyes practically glued to her and drooling. If I have my way after I talk to her, she will never eat a sausage again. Hell, what she’s doing to the sausage alone leaves very little to the imagination and should be banned.

My eyes sweep the room, to see if anyone else has noticed this. No one save for three certain Gryffindors. Weasley, who’s laughing; Granger, who’s chiding him; and Harry - ‘Damn it, Potter! Not Harry; Potter!’ - who is watching with a displeased look on his face. I can’t say that I blame him.

Suddenly Harry - ‘Not Harry you fool! Potter, Potter! Get that through your thick skull before you mess up! You certainly don’t need to call him Harry in seventh year Potions, now do you?!’ - rises from his seat, saying something to Granger and Weasley before promptly leaving the hall. I look back at my plate before pushing it away and resting my cup down. I peg my table one hard last look. Sora’s finally done eating that blasted sausage, and things look more normal now. But I can still see the furtive looks being cast her way. I frown as I rise from my seat and disappear through the door.

The small talk with Sora will have to wait until much later; more than likely after dinner. And she will not like what I have to say in the slightest.

Gratefully, I step into my office and close the door. This particular batch of third year Potions students leave my head aching, and in desperate need of a moment to my self. They are worse than all my horrible Potions students combined. I eye the cot warily, and sit on the couch. I haven’t slept in it since Potter has. I haven’t even made it up. The covers are still rumpled and cast aside.

“Get a grip of yourself,” I mutter, rising and walking over. “It’s just a bed. You can’t very well sleep on the couch. It kills your back.”

I stand there at the bedside, simply looking down at it. Firstly, I think I am losing my right mind. Before this entire tangled mess of…feelings for Harry - ‘Potter!’ my mind screams at me. ‘Potter, damn it!’ - I never had a problem of talking aloud to myself, much less of that annoying voice inside my head that continually tells me to call Harry, Potter. ‘You don’t listen to a single thing I say, do you?’ I tell myself to shut up, the sheer absurdity of the situation perfectly clear to me. I have lost my mind.

Secondly, I am very hesitant to even touch the bed. He lay there. Who am I to defile something like that? ‘It was your bed to begin with, you know. Defile, ha!’ I frown as I bend down to, ostensibly, inspect the sheet. That voice inside my head is becoming highly annoying. ‘I’m annoying? Look at you. Are you about to kneel and pray at this bed that you’ve treating like an altar? To the boy who has become the main star of your sexual fantasies? The way you’re simpering, you’re halfway to declaring your love to him.’

I grit my teeth in annoyance and abruptly sit down on the bed. There; that wasn’t so bad. Though I still feel as if I’ve done something horribly wrong. My hand smoothes over the pillow before I slowly lay down, on my back, staring up at the ceiling. ‘There. That wasn’t so hard was it? You old fuddy-duddy.’ I blink and shake my head slightly. I honestly am losing my mind; who uses the word fuddy-duddy? ‘I do!’ I can’t believe I’m sitting here listening to me berate myself. Merlin; that even sounds terribly messed up from my perspective as opposed to…my other perspective. ‘They say love does funny things to one’s mind.’ I scowl, not caring much for that wry, smug tone.

My eyes close and I ignore the various things that annoying voice is lecturing me with. I lie down on my stomach, inhaling deeply as I bury my face in the pillow. There is a definite light musk there, with the scent of tangerines intertwined. I groan, while that damnable voice taunts me. I am not going to get any sleep lying here in this bed that smells of him.

I’m still here, breathing in Harry’s scent when a knock comes from the door. I shot it a dirty look and get up from the bed, rubbing my head. When I open the door, I am more than surprised to find Harry - ‘Potter! Potter, Potter, Potter!’ that voice screeches at me - standing there.

“What is it now, Potter?” I snarl, partly from annoyance from that voice and necessity. The voice inside my head cheers a bit too happily.

He moves to side, allowing me to see what is on my desk. Namely Sora and Draco frozen and locked in a rather tight…embrace. “Professor, I suggest you start brewing something for whatever urges they’re having. A Degermate potion should do nicely.

I cast a sharp look at Harry. I almost looked at him with admiration. I am starting to loathe the role of bastard I have to play with him. “Wake them up.” I said before I shut my door, leaving it open a crack.

I pull a shirt on and easily grab two vials of already Degermate potion. I rest a hand on the doorknob to push it open, but stop up hearing Harry’s - ‘Potter!’ - voice.

“Do I even want to ask?” I peer through the crack and find him glaring at them. “Right in the middle of the hallway on a staircase! This is not a little exhibitionist show! Believe it or not, there is such a thing called better judgement and discretion!’

Sora draws herself up slightly, as she starts to talk. “In our defence-” her words wither away as Harry gives her a rather piercing, dangerous look. He obviously doesn’t want to be interrupted.

“And don’t think I didn’t see that little stunt you pulled at breakfast, Sora. And you Malfoy, staring at her like that; so much for subtlety being your thing. Everyone could see what you two were doing! Just what the hell were you thinking? You’re lucky you weren’t jumped then and there, Sora! Of all the stupid inane things anyone has ever done…and don’t even think of shifting it to me Malfoy,” Harry’s gaze snaps to Draco like a whip.

I pause, smiling at the thought of Harry with a whip in his hand for a moment before I shake it off and watch once more. That, I can always return to later.

“I do plenty of stupid things, more so according to Snape, so I think I know a dumb action when I see it!”

I shall have to give Harry - the voice starts grumbling immediately - some credit. Every time I go to lecture them, I face an uphill battle. Now, they’re simply sitting there like two chastised children who don’t dare speak. Harry looks between the two of them, choosing his words before he speaks.

“I realize that you two might be getting…stronger instinctual urges. But this is certainly not the place for them.” Harry watches them until they nod their head in agreement. “And until we can ascertain what Voldemort wants with the two of you, I think anything of that nature is definitely not a good idea.”

“But-” Sora attempts again and is met with another whip-like gaze.

“You two already attached enough as it is. Voldemort can easily use you against one another as blackmail or in some other form. If you two do mate, then it’s as good as sealed and Merlin knows how Voldemort will exploit that for all it’s worth. It is the element of the uncertain that is making Voldemort cautious. We certainly don’t want him getting a hold of Malfoy because then, he could force you to negotiate and bring the vampires back to his side, Sora. Since, Merlin knows, Leiko is having any luck from what it seems like.”

Draco and Sora nod their heads again. I shift a bit, watching Harry’s face. Power and authority suit him very well.

“When Snape comes back out here, you will take whatever potion he gives.” Harry pauses before speaking again. “Take the potion and do the best to contain the raging hormones in your body,” both Sora and Draco turn a brilliant scarlet. “Because, next time, it mightn’t be me who finds you. If you can’t even be in one another’s company without experiencing the need to jump one another,” at least Sora and Draco have the decency to look properly abashed. “Then leave for Merlin’s sake. Am I understood?”

Both Draco and Sora nodded, staring at the floor ar perhaps their feet. I will remember to take pointers from this and save myself plenty of talking next time something like this happens. Harry gives a small grunt of satisfaction. I open the door and step out silently, walking up behind Harry.

“Now, where the bloody hell is Severus with whatever he needed to get?

Harry turns around and bumps right into me. I look down into those malachite green eyes, suddenly finding myself rather short of breath and unsure of what to say. ‘Just don’t say ‘Harry’ whatever you do, you love addled fool!’

Thankfully, Sora chooses that exact moment to speak. “Are you going to say anything Severus?” her voice is quiet and fearful.

“I think Potter here has said it all,” I say smoothly and hand them each a vial. ‘Much better Severus. Now you’re one step closer to ridding yourself of that dangerous habit of referring to him as ‘Harry’.’ I crossly ignore that voice once more. “You’ll both need a daily dosage in order to better control the…stronger instinctual urges. It takes an immediate effect. I’ll see to it that there’s one for you each in the morning.”

I watch as they unstoppered the vials and drank the contents, grimacing at the taste. Then they slip down from my desk and vacate the room rapidly, the door wide open behind them. Suddenly it’s simply me and Harry in the classroom. I look at him, and see it. He’s avoiding my eye and is distinctly uncomfortable.

“I’ll be going now too, Sir.” He mumbles, starting quickly for the classroom door.

My mind starts whirling frantically; I don’t want him to leave yet. “Running off already, Potter?” I ask in a voice huskier than intended.

Harry stops for a second, faint disbelief written on the small bit I can see of his face; he’s gotten much better at masking reactions and emotions. “I really need to be going Sir. I have some reading to do and an essay for history.” He stands there with his back still towards me.

Aha! I nearly crow with delight as I realize why he can’t go. “Undoubtedly, but you do have a Bandolier potion to finish off.” Perfect; it has finished its first maturation stage and needs completion. I take out my wand and, with a few flicks, have already set up his potion and rest of ingredients on the nearest workstation to my desk.

‘Yes Severus,’ that annoying voice is back once again. ‘Take the things out for him and right in front of your desk. You’re bound to get questions from him now.’ Shit; I certainly didn’t think of that in my haste.

“Oh, that,” I can see the wince on his face. “I…suppose I could stay to add the last ingredients.” Harry turns around, finding everything already laid out on the desk.

“I sure you know what to do, Potter,” I say as I walk up to my desk.

Harry doesn’t say anything. He simply swallows with nod and goes to the store cupboard, getting the last few ingredients I forgot. Since when do I forget? No matter; he’s focusing attentively on arranging the ingredients on his desk. I catch his glance at the wide open door.

“Don’t,” I say. “We certainly don’t need a repeat of last time…do we, Potter?”

A surge of pleasure rushes through me at seeing his face turn bright red, and I can’t help but wonder just what is running through his mind to cause such a reaction. I sit at my desk, hiding the smirk that threatens to plaster itself to my face. It may not be the ideal situation, but at least he’s still here, in my company.

An awkward, yet comfortable, silence fills the room, as I read and Harry gets his potion boiling once more. The skin on the back of my neck is rising slightly; it always does when I feel someone looking at me. This time, it has to be Harry; there’s no one else in the room. I repress the urge to shiver, not from the cold, but from anticipation. I can feel his eyes wandering down my body, as if he’s slowly undressing me.

‘Merlin’s beard man, you need to get laid!’ Yes, I honestly do. I’m getting rather tired or my hand alone. ‘Er…maybe you should put an ad in the papers on the weekend?’ Why bother with that trivial thing? I know exactly who I want. ‘You’d better not say Potter.’ I. Want. Harry. ‘No, you idiot! He’s your student! Forbidden fruit! Y-’ But that just adds to his appeal even more. And Merlin knows he has more than enough of it already. Look at him; he’s screams sex on two legs. ‘Pay attention! I’m not going to lose you again! Hell you weren’t paying attention to me when you thought of him with a-’ Oh yes, Harry with a whip in his hands. Maybe a slutty leather outfit that reveals skin, a few rings and most definitely some handcuffs. Mmm, Harry could definitely chain me up, whip me, punish me and have his way with- ‘Severus!! Listen! To! Me!’ I reluctantly drag myself away from the beginnings of my erotic daydream. ‘You are going to give yourself a hard on if you keep up like this!’ I lick my lips slightly at that thought. Maybe Harry could help me with that. I glance up to see him staring at me. He looks away quickly, scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

Harry certainly does look beautiful in the flickering torchlight. The light reflects of his hair erratically, as he lifts his head up slightly. He runs a finger around the collar of his shirt, before loosening the tie and undoing the first three buttons easily with one hand, leaving the robes on. I swallow a groan, watching as he starts to rub the feather against the creamy length of his neck, chewing on his lower lip slightly while his brow is furrowed in concentration. I shift slightly, uncomfortably aware of the amount of blood rushing to my cock. ‘I warned you.’ Damn it. I sit up a bit straighter, closing my legs and immediately regretting it. The friction of the cloth makes me throb even harder. Dear Lord, this is sheer torture. ‘I warned you to now think of it too much and look at you now. Sporting what is probably the world’s hardest erection over a barely conceived fantasy about a boy you can never have. Brava, you fool. Brava.’ I wish that wretched voice inside my head would go away and-

“Are you all right Sir?”

I look up to find Harry right in front of my desk, looking at me anxiously. “Of course I’m all right! Get back to work!” I snap angrily. If he doesn’t get away from the desk soon, I’m liable to do something very rash and very pleasurable.

“You don’t look fine. You’re covered in sweat, and your breathing is erratic. And the warming charm hasn’t gone awry this time. Maybe you should go up to the infirmary and see what’s wrong.” Harry suggests.

My eyes dart to the quill in his hand; now he’s twirling it against his neck. My cock twitches at the sight and I look away hastily. I know perfectly well what’s wrong. I’m not able to pound him into a mattress or beg him to fuck me senseless. Wait one moment; fuck me? No, no it’s the other way around. I never bottom. Ever. But it is an appealing thought, nonetheless.

“Are you almost done that potion?” I asked in a rather waspish tone.

Harry looks a bit startled. “Almost Sir. It just needs a few more minutes.” Harry pauses, and gives me a rather strange smirk. “Haven’t you been keeping track of the time?”

“What do you think?” I ask in a particularly scathing voice. Of course, in between that annoying voice in my head, my semi-realized daydreams and a now painfully throbbing erection, time is the furthest thing from my mind. It’s taking quite a bit of willpower to not get up from the chair and ravish him where he stands. ‘Ravish him? Merlin’s crystal ball…’ I tighten my jaw.

“Sir, I really think you should see Madame Pomfrey.” Harry says, resting his hand on the desk.

I glare at him. “I am perfectly fine Potter. See to your potion.” I say curtly before managing somehow to look at my book. Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment but drawing away slowly and walking back to his spot. I keep my eyes glued to the text in front of me. I will not look up at him. No, I cannot and will not. I try to remain motionless, but it is very hard in my present condition. I read over the text intently, trying to keep my hands from shaking as I turn the pages. ‘My, if this is how easily you’re reduced to a barely controlled mass of lust, imagine what a good mindfuck would do to you?’ I am really starting to hate that voice. And, in more ways that I can presently count on both my hands. ‘You just hate me because I’m saying the things you seem to want to ignore.’ The blasted voice never stops haranguing me and- ‘And I’m not leaving until you sort this mess out yourself. I’ll keep pointing things out you know. That potion of Potter’s doesn’t have much longer now.’

Yes. Just blithely ignore yourself and the voice is bound to go away. I am a genius. ‘Wrong, Severus!’ Drat. I just want a moment’s peace. Is that too much to ask for?! ‘Of course not. And when I start getting decent answers instead of mindless lust from you, then we’ll see.’ Oh great. I have to suffer this interrogation just to rid myself of my…other self. This is simply becoming stranger and stranger. ‘Indeed. When did this silly infatuation with Potter begin?’ My lips curl into a sneer; I can’t believe I am actually going to go along with this. ‘Severus…’ I suppose it was in sixth year, when I walked into Potions and saw him sitting there. That final exam of his was truly impressive. A few things that prevented me from giving an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ but impressive none the less. ‘I see. And…’ And what? The boy actually started displaying intelligence; he’s smarter than the annoying Granger by far, and much better. I don’t have to suffer silly little questions from him at all. ‘Oh ho…’ Oh ho?

It is official. I’m sitting here, being mentally interrogated by myself. I have lost my mind. Perhaps I’ll check into St. Mungo’s after this term. Cause: went insane due to pent up lust over the infamous Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter.

‘Keep talking buddy. It’s rather obvious that he won your respect even though you didn’t realize it. What made it worse? Or rather, what changed the hate to…this?’ What made it worse? I don’t bloody well know! If I knew, I highly doubt I would be in this mess. ‘Don’t know? Shall I take a crack at this?’ I grouse slightly and run a hand through my hair. As if the voice wouldn’t. ‘Touché. I think you started to actually see Potter. Not his father. You started to see him on his own merits.’ His own merits, yes, I suppose that’s it. But he was certainly hiding something all of sixth year. I know he was, but I could never place my finger on it. It worried me, but with no proof, I couldn’t do anything. Not that I would want to intentionally pry; that does more harm that good. ‘You can deal with that on your own. So, if I am guessing right, you found respect for him, starting seeing him as a person separate from his deceased father whom you despised and have developed a two year crush for him which is starting to seriously mess up your thinking now?’

I start to formulate a protest but then realize I can’t. That is exactly it.

‘I see. Then I think I should reiterate this again before you go and do something utterly stupid. He. Is. Your. Student. And what does Albus say every year in regards to this subject?’ I sigh, knowing full well the Headmaster’s position on this subject. ‘Say it Severus…’ I remain stubbornly silent, trying to will away my hard on. ‘Severus…’ I sigh heavily. On no account, should a teacher violate their position and authority over a student to engage in an affair. ‘In layman’s terms…’ Don’t use your position to seduce and knock up a student. ‘In French…’ What the hell? I don’t even know French!! ‘I know. But has it sunken in at least? He. Is. Your. Student.’ If there was anything more deflating, it was what that annoying voice was saying. Well, that’s one less hard on I have to worry about now. ‘Oh, come off the dramatics. I’m certain you don’t want to get fired, do you?’ Wasn’t the voice supposed to be gone by now? ‘I know, but-’ Gone? As in away and not plaguing me once more with-

“Sir?”

I look up to find Potter standing there with a vial in one hand, his bag on his other side. “What?” I ask a bit crossly.

Harry steps up to the desk. “One Bandolier potion. Although, it still has that last maturation stage to go through.

I nod my head and take it from him curtly before indicating he can leave with a wave of my hand. I don’t look up at his steps echo dimly against the walls. When I look up, it is the silent empty classroom that greets my sight. I lean back in the chair, and stare ahead, feeling a strange ache. This is even worse than when I got the Dark Mark. Now, every time I am around Harry, I think I shall have to tiptoe for my own sanity.