Chapter XIII

Harry found his gaze wandering out the window towards the sky yet again for the night. He had seated himself in a nice shadowy corner of Trelawney’s classroom on a window ledge. Tonight, it was only him, Sora and Draco. He couldn’t even find Ron or Hermione to see if they were coming. Undoubtedly, they were off snogging somewhere in the school. Now that he stopped to think about it, they hadn’t been coming here for awhile. He’d been so intent on practicing, that he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Potter!” slim fingers were snapped under his nose abruptly.

He looked up to see Sora and Draco standing in front of him with particularly displeased expressions on their faces. He shifted slightly so they could see his face better, and regarded them. “Yes? Did you want something?”

“Only your attention, which we have been trying to get for the past few minutes, Sora said in a slightly cross voice. “It might benefit you to continue practicing.”

“I have been,” Harry said. “I’m just a bit preoccupied lately, that’s all.”

Sora didn’t say anything for a moment. “With?”

“It’s nothing,” Harry said with a slight dismissive wave of his hand. “We should get back to practicing.”

He watched as Sora walked back to Trelawney’s desk and hopped back up, resuming whatever she had been doing. Draco wandered over to a desk and stuck his feet up and stared up at the ceiling, bored. Harry turned his head back to the window and closed his eyes. He was supposed to be aware of his body, not dwelling on how things were changing. But simply becoming aware was getting easier and easier. He was confident that he could change completely into his animal form before Christmas break.

And then there was Remus’ offer; it was extremely tempting. Going to Whytemoor Manor and riling Leiko with Remus by his side; and there was no way that Remus would let her lay a finger on him. And then he’d be back at Hogwarts before she could even do anything in retaliation.

A slight frown came to his mouth; he was supposed to be concentrating, not musing. He refocused his thoughts towards his body, to each of his socked feet, encased in the comfortable brown loafers; to his spine that now rested against the wall in a gentle curve and his hands that were resting on his knees with his fingers curled over the joints gently. He had to be aware of every breath that his lungs pushed past his lips and every one that they sucked into the caverns of his body. He simply sat there, breathing slowly, a strange tingling creeping over his body, particularly on his face and the top of his head. But it passed after a few moments so he thought nothing of it.

After a few more minutes, his mind grew bored and started to wander. It did seem that he and Hermione were growing farther apart. He barely saw her, and when he did see her now - which was typically in the Great Hall for meals when he went - she either had her nose buried in a book or she was talking about something that only he and Ron could possibly understand. Of course, when there came a time when she did see him, she decided to nag him about something. Hermione did tend to nag a lot. At least there was still Ron when he and Hermione didn’t vanish off, like they had tonight.

With a sigh, he shifted slightly, resting more of his weight against the wall. Ever since Monday night, his week had been heading down the drain. The practicum with Beecham had gone rather disastrously with his attempt to defend himself against the Red Cap; Beecham was giving him one last chance to redeem himself. When he’d gone to hand in his report to Hagrid, he’d disturbed him in the middle of trying to placate some creature he had never seen before; needless to say, Harry had never pulled his wand out so fast to protect himself, and from being almost eaten nonetheless. Charms had been dreadfully dull for once and he found himself fighting to stay awake. It didn’t help that he had left the ball from Alexandre in his room. Transfiguration had to be by far the worst. The mouse he was supposed to Transmute into a turtle had failed dismally. The mouse had ended up with furry shell and a long protruding neck with large owlish eyes too big for its head. And he didn’t even want to think about Potions.

And all throughout the week he had been plagued by the image of Snape sprawled out on couch, sleeping on his stomach.

Merlin knew that was probably the reason why he had such an unpleasant week; how could anyone concentrate with that image in their head; that tantalizing image planted so firmly in their minds. And he knew it was a pathetic excuse. But that image was burned into his mind, lurking just outside thought. Snape’s robe had been carelessly draped over the armchair. And then Snape himself, stretched out on the black couch, an arm hanging off to rest on the floor beside a crumpled black shirt. All Snape had been wearing was pair of black pants. The sallow skin of his back was exposed in the faint glimmer of light that came from some source. Snape’s face - usually graced by the lines of sarcasm, anger and irritation - was smooth and relaxed in peaceful sleep. What really caught Harry’s attention were the scars. The scars the made Snape’s back look like an intricate latticework. They covered a good portion of his back and curved over his ribs, disappearing between his skin and the couch.

He’d stared in awe as he stood, stretching slightly as he walked over and looked at them curiously. Then he’d had that damnable urge to touch them. That was when Snape stirred slightly before falling back to sleep. Harry could still see the smooth fluid play of powerful muscles beneath that scarred skin. Of course, Snape almost waking up had knocked some sense into him and he had hurried out into the other room and grabbed his things before taking off. Most of the school was asleep when he'd arrived back in the Gryffindor common rooms, flushed and a bit breathless.

Snape certainly hadn’t looked like the greasy Potions professor then

He looked more like a fallen angel with hidden grace and beauty, struggling towards some, any, form of redemption.

Harry’s eyes snapped open as he shook his head and smacked himself on the forehead. He did not just think that. Not something that ludicrously sappy. No, no, he was supposed to be concentrating on the change, not thinking about Snape, of all people, like that.

With a sigh he slid down from his spot, walking towards the door. He paused in front of Trelawney’s desk, looking at Sora who was reading over the book. “I’m going to leave now. I just can't seem to concentrate long enough.” He paused when Sora looked at him strangely. He could see Draco from the corner of his eye, giving him a similar look. “What?”

“Nice ears Potter.” Draco said dryly.

“And whiskers.” Sora added with a smile.

“What?” he looked between them taking the mirror Sora offered.

He took it and looked at his reflection. Whiskers did indeed protrude from his face; rather long black ones that twitched slightly as he wrinkled his nose a bit. And from the wild mop of his hair, two black ears protruded, almost feline in their appearance.

“Uh,” Harry paused, trying to think of something to say. “What was I supposed to feel something when this happened?”

“Some people feel a tingling,” Draco shrugged. “Some don’t.”

“Did you feel any tingles at all, Harry?” Sora asked with an inquiring expression in her eyes.

Harry hesitated for a second before he realized that she couldn’t possibly know. “I felt a tingling, but it didn’t last very long so I didn’t think very much of it.”

“It looks like you’re well on your way,” Sora said in a proud voice. “Looks like your form will be a mammal as well.”

Draco gave a disgusted snort. “Stupid mammals.”

Harry partially hid his amusement. “And just what are you?”

“Not a mammal, that’s for sure. You two are all warm and fuzzy.” He made a face.

Sora sniggered. “You never really used to complain about that. Why don’t you show Harry your form?”

“I suppose I could,” Draco said in a lazy voice. “Mine is much better; no chance of being mauled by another creature or some stupid brat.”

Harry simply stood there, trying to not smirk. He watched as Draco’s body stretched upwards, as well as outwards quite a bit. His once smooth skin hardened into scales that were a light silvery white in colour. His hands and feet stretched outwards, talons forming into wicked weapons. His eyes elongated, much like snake’s only more oval shaped and the pupils a bright purple colour. A tail stretched out across the floor, thick at the base and tapered at the end. From his back, wings grew, until two large bat-like wings lay folded against his back.

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment as Draco looked down at them haughtily. “You’re right; you don’t have to worry about some brat. You have to worry about a Dragon Keeper who’d think you’ve escaped from an unplottable tract of land.”

Draco narrowed his eyes balefully before dropping down onto his forelegs and curling up in the small space that he had in the cramped classroom, closing his eyes. Sora looked at Harry with an impish grin.

“Watch this,” she murmured so only he could hear.

She crept up to Draco, running a hand lightly along the ridge above his eyes and down to his jawbone. Draco had barely opened an eye to glare at her, when she nestled her fingers just behind the jawbone and started rubbing in small circles. Draco’s eyes shut again as his tail thumped against the floor slowly. A rather content rumbling came from his gullet, wisps of smoke streaming from between his teeth. It was a few minutes later that Draco pulled away and changed back.

“I thought,” he began rather pointedly, his face slightly red. “We talked about that.”

Sora simply smiled. “As you saw Harry, sometimes you can exert a form of control over someone in their Animagus form.”

“You never control me,” Draco said with his best glower.

Harry just about broke down laughing when Sora ran a finger lightly down Draco’s cheek and up under his chin. A faint tinge of colour came to his face, but he didn’t swat Sora's hand away.

“You keep thinking that.” She said demurely.

Harry was almost choking on mirth at this point; Sora was rather shamelessly manipulating him. And Draco wasn’t doing a damned thing about it.

“You’re a horrid tease.” Draco muttered.

“You aren’t the first to note that,” Sora looked back at Harry. “This is excellent progress. I hadn’t expected you to do this until the third week in November. Now, you have to do the same thing to get rid of the ears and whiskers. This should be a bit easier now that you know what it feels like.”

Harry nodded, quickly grasping the sense of his body. The tingling sensation followed a few minutes later. He waited until he didn’t feel it anymore. He ran his hands through his hair and over his face; no ears or whiskers.

“Excellent!” Sora looked and sounded particularly delighted. “I think we should call it a night. I think it’s almost one, and you both will probably have Quidditch practice tomorrow. Next week we meet here on Thursday.” She picked up her book.

“All right,” Harry said as he grabbed his Invisibility cloak. “Don’t let Filch catch you on the way back.”

Draco chuckled at that. “Easy for you to say.”

Harry grinned at him.

“Oh, get going, Harry.” Sora said. “We’ll see you in Potions on Monday.”

“Merlin, Harry,” Ron said as he stirred the potion bubbling away in the cauldron. “Just what did you say to get both ‘Mione and Ginny mad at you?”

It was Monday yet again, and Harry and Ron were sitting in the dungeon classroom, whispering over their potion.

“Heh, I was expecting you to say they were livid.” Harry replied in a dry voice as he picked up the dried fennel root and started chopping it into small pieces. “Ginny almost got me twice with her Bat Bogey Hex.”

Ron winced. “Think I’d better ask what’s with you and Ginny for starters. I mean, have you heard the rumours floating around about you? They’re not pretty.”

“I know all about them,” Harry said sourly. “You know, I’m half surprised that you don’t want to pound me.”

“I did warn her, but she didn’t listen to me.” Ron said with a shrug. “So?”

Harry sighed as he scraped the bits of root from the knife and scraped it into the cauldron; it hissed slightly and turned a dark red colour, just like it was supposed to. “I was trying to tell her that I didn’t like her. You know, break it to her easy. But I wasn’t too sure how to say it. So I spent a good amount of time stuttering like a fool. So she took my moronic babbling to mean that I did like her and couldn’t find the right words to express my feelings.”

Ron shook his head. “And then?”

“She kissed me. And she put in a bit of tongue as well.” Harry shuddered a bit. “I think her first clue that something wasn’t right was when I didn’t kiss her back. She asked what was wrong and I simply told her. Then she said that I had pretty much said that I said I liked her. Then I…clarified it for her, in harsher terms so she couldn’t confuse it for anything else.”

“No wonder. I’m surprised you aren’t in the infirmary.” Ron said. “When I found her, she was fuming, and I mean fuming.”

“Well, my self-preservation instincts have always been pretty good,” Harry said wryly. “Thought dodging her curses wasn’t much fun. Her aim is way better when she’s angry.”

Ron snorted with a laugh. “Fred and George could have told you that.”

Harry gave a slight smile that disappeared quickly. “Hell, I think it might have been easier if I told her I was gay and left it at that. It’d be easier to deal with those rumours than the ones now. Shagging Sora…” he screwed up his face in disgust.

“Hm,” Ron picked up the bottles until he found the essence of Murtlap and dropped in the required ten drops. The potion turned a darker shade of red. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” Harry asked as he picked up some cardamom petals and shredded them quickly into the cauldron. The potion was now reddish-purple.

“Gay.” Ron said simply.

“No!” Harry hissed.

“Just asking,” Ron said with a shrug as he stirred briskly. “I mean two whole years and no new girlfriend yet.”

“So?” Harry said as he took the stirrer from Ron to give his arm a break. “I don’t have a girlfriend yet. How the hell does make me gay?”

“Well, it doesn’t, I guess.” Ron admitted as he looked over at the other side of the room. “Man, why did Snape give the Slytherins a different potion for this lesson?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that our Ocularius potion is perfect and I’m not inclined to screw it up. Besides, Snape will probably tell us next class.”

Ron nodded his head. “How’s your Bandolier potion going?”

“Pretty good, though I almost screwed it up at the beginning. Trust me, having Snape watch you while you try to make a complex potion by yourself isn’t an easy thing.” Harry glanced at the board, continuing to stir. “I’ll have to complete the final steps next week.”

“In other words, the greasy git can’t fail you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said after a moment; there was that image of Snape on the couch plaguing him once more.

“There’s no way I can fail that potion.”

“Ah,” Ron said with a shrewd nod of his head. “And just why is Hermione mad at you?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Harry said. “We left Japan on Thursday morning and I was dead tired from staying up all night. So when I came back and found that it was one o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, you can just imagine how tired I was.”

“You lost a whole day just like that?” Ron gaped.

“Just like that,” Harry affirmed. “I was just going to sleep when Hermione barged in on me, wanting to…talk. Well, nag was more like.”

Ron chuckled. “She can be like that.”

“Well, that might be fine for you, but I really don’t need the nagging and questions as if I was five years old and can’t go out anywhere by myself.”

“She’s just worried about you mate.”

“Hm, I suppose bludgeoning me with questions and the like is her way of showing she cares.”

Ron nodded his head as he looked at board. “All right, this potion is pretty much done. It’s even the right shade: a dark reddish purple. It just needs to simmer now for three minutes.”

“Looks like most of the Slytherins are finishing up as well.” Harry noted as he waited for the potion to finish.

Ron looked up, “Aw, no theatrics this time. That was pretty amusing the last time. I don’t think any one else noticed it, you know.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. ‘Lives of Slytherins’, the most unpopular show in Gryffindor.” Harry chuckled. “Are the three minutes up yet?”

“Pretty much,” Ron said, outing the fire. “Now we let it cool, bottle it and get another good grade.”

Harry nodded his head, wishing the potion would cool faster. The sooner he was out of here meant he wouldn’t have to look at Snape anymore than he had to. He certainly didn’t need this on top of those dreams.

“All right!” Ron’s exclamation jarred Harry from his thoughts. “Now to get out of here!”

He watched as Ron slid out from his seat and bounded forward, not noticing Blaise or Draco also making their way to the front. He barely had time to cry out a warning before they all collided with the sharp crunch of breaking glass before they all sprawled to the ground from Ron practically running into them. Draco had taken the worst of it, whose hands and face was covered in splotches of the two potions. Snape was glowering over them in an instant.

“As glad as I will be also to see you gone Weasley,” Snape snapped. “You should know better to run with a full vial in your hands. Fifteen points from Gryffindor.”

Harry watched as Draco wiped the majority of the mixed muck from his face and hands on his robes. He glared at both Blaise and Ron like they had conspired against him as he took out his wand and muttered a cleaning charm. Only it didn’t work. The muck stayed on his robes and the bit that was on his skin had disappeared. Harry felt a sudden churning of his stomach as a strange expression flitted across Draco’s face before disgust fell back into place. It all happened so fast.

“Watch where you walk, Weasel,” Draco sneered. “You couldn’t afford robes like this if you worked for two lifetimes.”

Ron didn’t say anything, but his face flushed a dark angry red colour. He picked himself up and headed back to the table as Snape cleaned up the mess on the floor. Harry didn’t say as he quickly bottled some more of the potion and placed it quietly on Snape’s desk, under Snape’s hawkish gaze. Ron had already cleaned up their workspace as well as his robes. They managed to flee out along with the last few stragglers in the class.

“For a minute there, I thought you were going to get detention.” Harry said.

Ron snorted. “So did I. Though, if I had hexed Malfoy, I certainly would have.”

“Admirable restraint Ron,” Harry said. “I think that’s the first we’ve lost house points.”

“It is. I’m just glad to get out of there in one piece.” Ron said in a weary relieved voice. “You coming to lunch?”

“No,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “I have to redo my DADA practicum. I believe how much I screwed up on the first one. I’ll come for dinner though.”

“All right then. Later, mate!”

Harry watched as Ron ambled down the corridor towards the Great Hall before he started up the stairs towards Beecham’s classroom. He’d pass the practicum this time; of course, this time, he wouldn’t have visions of Snape dancing through his head. His steps halted for a moment before he continued walking; now he knew he’d been working too hard. He glanced at his watch, before he took off down the hallway. He was supposed to be there twenty minutes ago. How did these kinds of things keep happening to him?

“My, you needn’t burn yourself out on my account,” Beecham said with slight amusement as Harry burst into the room, short of breath.

“You mean it isn’t twelve thirty?” he asked as he placed his schoolbag on one of the empty desks.

“No. It’s only five past.” Beecham paused, looking at his wrist. “I’d imagine your watch is broken or simply in need of a charge.”

Harry looked at his watch more carefully; it was broken. The hands were frozen on twelve thirty; it had probably died in morning and he had been in such a rush that he never noticed. “Well, I thought I was late. But I may as well get this over with since I’m early.”

”As you wish,” Beecham said as she laid down her quill. “Since it didn’t arise last time, is there a particular reason as to why you did so poorly? I talked with the previous Dark Arts teachers before taking this post and they all said you were quite proficient; especially Mr. Lupin.” Beecham paused for a moment. “Well, I shouldn’t lie so blatantly; you were highly commended by the competent teachers.”

“Oh, well,” Harry wasn’t too sure what to say as he felt a damnable flush creep to his face. “I’ve…I’ve been preoccupied lately.”

“Very well,” Beecham said a slight smile. “You have your wand?” Harry held it up. “Good. Now, before we start, give me a brief physical description of the Red Cap.”

“Well it’s a short elf around four to five feet tall, has a sturdy build, and has long grey hair. It had red eyes. It gets the name Red Cap because it dyes its hat in human blood to get the red colour.” Harry’s lip curled slightly in distaste.

“Where is it usually found?” Beecham asked, with an arched eyebrow.

“Generally in Scotland, on old battlefields, in castles with a history of violence and sometimes they can be found in Lowland fortified towers or houses.”

“Excellent.” Beecham said. “How do they typically attack their victims?”

“Either with a boulder or a blow to the head with something they can find lying around. Though they tend to use boulders.” Harry glanced at the box that sat on a table. “Though, this one will more than likely try to go at me with its bare hands.”

“Astute observation, Harry. Five points for Gryffindor.” Beecham said. “Boulders are its preferred killing method, but since there is a considerable lack of any weapon suited to the Red Cap in this room, you needed worry about that. Now, a word of caution about this particular Red Cap-”

“You have more than one?”

“Red Caps are…feisty little buggers,” Beecham said after a moment. “But having a class of twenty five students fire curses, hexes and jinxes at it would more than certainly do it in. So I brought in two to make sure they would last for the practicum. Then, they’re released back into Ministry custody.”

“Oh.” Harry felt sufficiently stupid now.

“Quite all right, everyone slips up from time to time.” Beecham walked over to the box on the table, resting her hand on the handle. “This particular Red Cap proved quite difficult for the class. Most of the boys were shocked and panicked when it went directly for the groin region.”

Harry felt his face pale slightly as he tightened his grip on his wand. There was no way he’d let some bloodthirsty creature ruin his favourite part of his body.

“I assure you, you’ll suffer no injury here,” Beecham chuckled as she leaned against the table’s edge. “Are you ready?”

Harry nodded grimly, gripping his wand tight.

“Very well; please, don’t disappoint me again.”

Beecham grasped the handle on the door to the cage and slid it up. Red eyes glowered out at him from the interior balefully. Harry tensed up, waiting for it to lunge at him. After a few minutes, it shuffled forward slowly, before it moved in a burst of speed. Not at Harry, but right for Madame Beecham.

Beecham barely had her wand up, the words barely uttered, before the Red Cap attached itself to her arm, teeth sinking into her hand. She gave a hoarse yell as she dropped her wand and reeled back, collapsing to the floor after loosing her balance from her collision with the table. Harry ran up, and swiftly kicked the Red Cap off. It sailed through the air and hit the wall and landed on the ground with a loud thud.

“Crufuto!” he said, aiming his wand at the creature.

Dark purple coils shot out from his wand in the shape of an ‘X’ and closed around the Red Cap. It gave snarl as it tried to struggle to its feet and go after Harry. He walked over, picked it up by the scruff of its neck, ignoring the snarls and put it back in the cage. He walked over to Beecham who was sitting up.

“Are you OK, Madame Beecham?” Harry asked in an unsure voice; her hand was covered in an awful lot of blood.

“It simply looks nasty, but I’ll be fine.” Beecham said as she stood up. “That is certainly one for the books. Red Caps never do that. This one seems to be a particular exception.”

“Not to be rude Madame, but didn’t it going for the groin tell you something?”

Beecham looked at him for a moment before she gave a warm laugh. “You definitely pass this time. Your…unorthodox method and quick thinking certainly deserves points. I say…twenty for Gryffindor should do it.”

“Um, don’t get me wrong Madame because having the points is great but, why?”

“Harry,” Beecham said in a gentle voice. “If there is one thing you should know about fighting Dark creatures and such, it’s that you never, ever, do something that your prey expects. And I certainly don’t think that Red Cap was expecting such a swift kick to the arse.”

The halls were rather quiet as Harry went through the corridors, whistling a tune lightly to himself. After a quick patch up operation by Mrs. Pomfrey and then lunch, things definitely picked up. He’d earned twenty five points for his house, done in that nasty little Red Cap, and, just to kill some time, he’d practiced on his Animagus transformation. It certainly was easier when he had an idea of what to expect. And he rather liked seeing the whiskers on his cheeks and the ears peeking out from his hair.

He turned the corner, seeing a few people heading into the Hall as well. He had to admit, he was looking forward to eating in their today. To hell with what anyone else said. A solid wall of noise greeted him as he walked in. Ron was already waving him over to the spot he had saved for him. Harry hurried over and slid into the seat, noticing something.

“Where’s Hermione?”

“Doing some work,” Ron said with a roll of his eyes. “As if she doesn’t do enough of it already.”

Harry chuckled as he started filling up his plate. “Things all right with you two?”

“They’re great. Although,” Ron leaned in almost conspiratorially. “Hermione’s started up with S.P.E.W again. One night she said she was busy knitting. Knitting!”

Harry swallowed his laugh. “At least Dobby’s happy then.” He promptly stuffed a kipper in his mouth to not answer for a minute of two.

“But she’s my girlfriend, not Dobby’s!” Ron muttered in a disgruntled tone.

“Well,” Harry said a few minutes later once he’d swallowed the kipper. “I’m sure it was just a one time thing. You’ve seen more of her than me.”

“I suppose,” Ron admitted. “But you don’t have to listen to her plans for S.P.E.W. Sometimes I wonder if-”

The rest of Ron’s words were drowned out by an uproar of surprise from the Slytherin table. Already people were surging forward to see what caused the commotion. Harry shoved and shouldered his way through the crowd, Ron close behind him. Two Slytherins were rolling around on the floor trying to beat up one another with their fists. No one could get a clear view of who it was with the robes everywhere, but the words were flying thick and fast, though muffled. Snape shoved his way through the crowd now, thrusting his hands into the squirming black mass and dragging the two students apart by the collars of their robes. Harry was rather surprised to see Blaise with a swollen, blackened eye and Draco sporting purpling bruises on his lower jaw and cheekbone. They were both looking at each other murderously, but it was nothing compared to the expression on Snape’s face.

“Explain yourselves, the both of you!” Snape bellowed, sending tingles along Harry’s skin. When Blaise and Draco simply stood there in sullen silence, Snape’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Very well then.”

Everyone watched as Snape started jostling them out from the hall, their robes still clenched tightly in Snape’s fists. The crowd parted as they went, only dispersing back to their seats once the doors to the Great Hall closed with an ominous thud. Ron and Harry glanced at one another before going back to their dinner, trying to make small conversation. But Harry knew Ron was thinking the same thing. Malfoys never attacked someone like that in front of so many witnesses; just what had bothered Draco so much that he had to attempt to punch out Blaise? The entire atmosphere had gone from relaxed to charged as people started whispering speculations to one another. Harry quickly finished off his dinner and left the Hall.

“Harry, wait up!”

He looked back to see Ron come chasing after him. “That certainly didn’t take long.”

“Yeah, I’d expect by tomorrow that they were using Unforgivable on one another,” Ron said shaking his head. “Just…don’t snap at anyone, eh?”

Harry smiled slightly. “I think I’m going to sleep. In between all the work I’ve been doing and the Animagus studying late at night, I could catch up on some sleep.”

“Oh…about that,” Ron’s face went a bit red. “Me and ‘Mione kinda started practicing on our own. Since we wanted some alone time and-”

“That’s all right Ron,” Harry said; it really was. He rather liked it when it was just him, Sora and Draco. “How far along are you?”

“Almost there. You?”

“Sora figures I can have it done before December starts. I already got ears and whiskers.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron’s eyes widened for a second. “You beat ‘Mione at something else.”

Harry grinned. “Tell her it’s because I actually started following her advice and worked. I’m going to go sleep now. See you tomorrow.” He said as he started towards the Gryffindor rooms.

“Later Harry!” Ron called after.

Harry sighed and rubbed his face, feeling weariness settle in. It would be good to get a decent night’s sleep for once.

A sharp gasp escaped from his throat as the fingers curled around his rigid length, fisting him languidly. His hips thrust upward slightly into the hand. A hoarse moan was torn from his lips as fingers tweaked a nipple gently before doing so again a bit harder.

“Oh God,” he breathed in a nearly delirious voice. “Now, do it now, for Merlin’s sake, before I explode!”

That same amused chuckle came again as his legs were nudged apart, a hand running down to the crack of his arse. He gave a hiss of anticipation as a slick finger as pressed into him, followed by another, stretching and preparing him with an exquisite scissoring motion.

He thrust down onto those talented fingers urgently. “I meant now, not later! He groaned. “Fuck me now!”

A thick growl of desire resounded through his head as a rigid length was pressed into his hole. He stifled a gasp, adjusting to the feel of someone buried deep inside him. A few moments later, his lover pulled out before thrusting back in slowly. He moaned and started to move his hips faster.

He almost started weeping from relief when his lover picked up the pace, thrusting into him enthusiastically. A sharp gasp flew past his lips as his prostate was brushed against. His legs wrapped around those moving hips, pressing kisses and teeth against his lover’s shoulder. A shuddering gasp came from above him, making him continue on. His prostate was hit again, making erratic gasps and whispered words of ‘Oh fuck, yeeeeessss!’ come from his mouth.

He could feel himself coming; he was close to the edge. The sounds coming from above him made his blood rush even faster, knowing that they were approaching their own climax because of him. A particularly hard thrust made him gasp in pleasure as he cupped his lover’s face, bring it up to look at him. He had to look; look into the eyes, the very soul, of a person who could love him like this and allow them to do the same.

Black passion clouded eyes gazed down into his, the swollen lips parted to allow the ragged gasps past. The hook shaped nose moved in trailing against his skin as lips captured his again in a fierce and possessive kiss.

He just about screamed into the kiss as his turgid length was fisted yet again, the strokes rough and erratic. Once more his prostate was hit and he shuddered, coming hard all over himself and his lover and a hoarse cry was wrenched from his throat.

“Severus!”

Harry scrambled up from his pillow, his chest heaving as he took panicked breaths. He looked around; he had to reassure himself he was alone before he ran a hand through his hair. He was hot, sweaty and his boxers were sticky with his seed. He pushed his hand past the bed drapes and grabbed his wand and glasses, quickly sliding the glasses on and cleaning himself up. He had never been gladder that he had the foresight to close the thick red curtains.

He slipped out of bed silently, slid into his slippers and got his Invisibility cloak. He draped it around himself and walked out into the empty silent hallways. He needed to go for a walk, go outside for air, something to clear his mind of what he had just dreamt.

An erotic dream about Snape; there was nothing he could say or think to make it anything else. Of course, he still couldn’t figure out which was worst; the other person being Snape, or that he enjoyed himself that much with Snape. He frowned as confusion ran rampant through his mind. He’d never dreamed about a girl like that before, so even if he was inclined to the same sex, why of all people, did it have to be Snape?! But Snape wasn’t all that bad loo- Harry abruptly cut off his train of thought right there. It would not do well to associate his Potions professor with love or sex, no matter how attractive he was, not to mention. Harry screwed his eyes shut and picked up his pace. No, no, no, it wouldn’t do at all.

Maybe he was reading into this too much. Someone else probably had a problem like this. Guys did dream about other guys like this…hopefully…probably…more than likely…surely. Yes, surely they did, at least once in their lives. Surely… Harry gave a groan as he started up the stairs towards the Astronomy Tower. Fresh air was definitely needed at this point. And since the Astronomy Tower had a small space on the roof for observation, it was the perfect place to try and make sense of the befuddled mess his brain had become.

The fresh air was bracing, helping to clear his mind somewhat. He inhaled deeply, looking around; there was no one here. But better he check around that corner just to be sure. He crept up silently, surprised by what he saw. Draco Malfoy sat slouched against the wall, drinking from a bottle with the word ‘Firewhiskey’ plain to see.

“Draco?” Harry asked as he took the cloak off.

Draco started clumsily, reaching for his wand before he saw who it was. “Oh. It’s only you. What are you doing here? Can’t sleep either?”

Harry arched an eyebrow as he sat down beside Draco. “I came to get fresh air.” He paused for a moment. “Why are you here?”

“Same reason,” Draco said as he contemplated the neck of the bottle. “And to get piss drunk. Want a drink?” he tipped the bottle towards Harry slightly.

“Hell yes,” Harry said taking the bottle and taking a good gulp. The Firewhiskey burned on its way down, making him cough and his eyes water a bit. “Whoa.”

“First time, huh?” Draco said, taking the bottle back and following the sentence with a quick chug. “It can do that.”

“Slowly making your way through the bottle, huh?”

Draco scowled. “Better than trying to pound the lights out of Blaise. It’s his fault that I’m going to be cleaning cauldrons for the first years for the next three months. Sans magic.” he said bitterly.

“Three months?” Harry asked in an incredulous tone. “Man, Snape must have been pissed. He doesn’t even give me that harsh a detention.”

“Don’t remind me.” Draco muttered as he took a swig. “Now, if you don’t mind, I was getting quite drunk on my own, so why don’t you run along.”

“Heh, if you think I’m just going to let you off like that, you have another thing coming, Draco.” Harry said. “Besides, I’d welcome getting pissed.”

“Harry Potter getting pissed? Now I’ve heard it all.” Draco chortled as he handed the bottle over. “Bet your little friends don’t know you did this.”

“No, they don’t. They have each other.” Harry shrugged as he took a long pull. The burning sensation that accompanied the liquor going down was a sweet pleasure. “Is this flavoured or something?”

Draco nodded. “Yes,” He chuckled slightly. “I nicked it from Snape’s office when he went to get something. There’s no way I’d go back to my dorm sober.”

“You nicked it from Snape?” Harry grinned at that. “Aiming for another three months?”

“He doesn’t know,” Draco said, holding his hand out.

“What flavour is it?” Harry asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he handed it over.

“Berry,” Draco said.

Harry felt his face pale slightly as he closed his eyes.

“What’s wrong now?” Draco demanded.

“Berries…give me indigestion.” Harry said a bit uneasily as his face went red.

Draco snorted with amusement at that. “So why exactly are you here?”

“I wanted some fresh air.” Harry said with a light shrug. “I haven’t been sleeping well. Bad dreams.” He said hastily.

“I think I’d much rather have your problems.” Draco said with a slight frown.

Harry simply gave a questioning grunt as he took the bottle and drank.

Draco didn’t say anything for a moment. “The plan was fine before we all came here. We decided that we would pretend like we never knew one another. Of course, she, in her typical fashion, threw that out the window somewhat, but we could still manage. No one had to know.”

Harry assumed Draco meant him Sora and Snape when he kept saying ‘we’.

“The only…problem,” Draco’s voice held barely restrained anger. “Was every other boy in the school; especially Blaise. He was getting all…touchy with her. He seemed to be the only one she couldn’t hold at bay. Everyone else was sufficiently terrified of the bitch image she maintained. But they still wanted her. How that rumour started that you were shagging her, I have no idea.

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” Harry said darkly, remembering a certain breakfast.

“I’ll tell you one thing; I nearly died from laughter when I heard it. Alexandre must have gone to great lengths to suppress the fact that you’re related to him. It’s not like you need anymore hype than you got already. Besides, I know there’s no basis in that one. You’re her cousin, and she’d find it morally repugnant even if something like that did-”

“Stop right there,” Harry said. “I’m starting to feel ill just hearing you.”

“Point proven,” Draco swallowed a bit more Firewhiskey. “Dinner was going fine until Blaise opened his mouth.”

“What did he say?”

“Said he couldn’t wait to shag Sora,”

“All right,” Harry said, prying the bottle from Draco’s grip.

“And, as if my glare and warning tells him absolutely nothing, the bastard keeps on talking, saying how she’d be the best shag of his miserable, pathetic existence. It’s not like he wants a relationship with her!” Draco exclaimed angrily before taking another swig of Firewhiskey. “And it’s not like he bloody well could, the stupid bastard!”

Harry had a strong feeling that Draco added on ‘miserable, pathetic existence’ of his own volition. “And why did this bother you so much?”

Draco fixed him with a black look. “Don’t you get it, Harry?”

“Get what?” he asked.

Draco regarded him for a moment, before he shook his head with a gentle laugh. “I forgot, you don’t know, so you can’t possibly get it.”

“Get what?” Harry asked in a slightly impatient voice.

“That I’m half Veela.” Draco said after a few minutes.

“Oh.” Harry paused, a slightly awkward silence between them. “And Sora's part vampire so…”

Draco rolled his eyes in disgust. “How did you make it this far?”

“Oh, just stuff it, Draco,” Harry snapped. “I know the implications. You’ll need a mate, and judging from your reaction in the Great Hall, I’d say you’ve picked one already. That is, assuming, you exhibit Veela traits. But this kind of things always seems to manifest itself in humans.”

Draco didn’t say anything for a moment, blinking owlishly at the bottle of alcohol in Harry’s hand. “What’s your deep dark secret?”

“Excuse me?” Harry asked, taking the bottle from Draco and taking a long gulp.

Draco smirked taking the bottle back. “Did you really think I would buy that excuse of berries giving you indigestion? No one flushes that red when they talk about their guts.” He gulped greedily.

“It’s nothing really.” Harry said quickly, reaching for the bottle.

Draco pulled it out of his reach. “Come now Harry,” he chided. “I told mine, now you tell yours.”

“Fuck Draco,” Harry swore. “Just give me the damned bottle.”

Draco moved it in a bit closer, just dangling out of Harry’s reach. “What is it Harry?”

“You’re not going to like it if I tell you.” Harry replied.

Draco snorted. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Harry sighed and leaned back into his seat. “I had a dream.” He paused, noting the disgusted expression on Draco’s face. “A…‘stimulating’ dream.” Harry gave Draco a rather pointed look.

“That’s all?” Draco gave a bark of laughter. “You had a wet dream and you get all flustered? Doesn’t happen to you often? Or did you think your parts fell off?”

“No, that’s not it.” Harry said, taking a deep breath. “Look, I certainly don’t need it leaking out. And certain tabloid reporters would love to get their hands on this. Last thing I need it the front page of the Daily Prophet plastered with exaggerations.” He snatched the bottle and took a long pull.

The mirth in Draco’s face died immediately. He grabbed the bottle back, looking at Harry intently. “Then what the bloody hell is it?”

“Do I have your word? This doesn’t leave the two of us?”

“Just cast a charm if you don’t believe me,” Draco paused. “But then, I would have to wonder why you’d tell someone you don’t trust.”

“I trust Sora, and if she trusts you…” Harry let his words trail before he spoke again. “Do I have your word?”

Draco nodded, his brow furrowed slightly. “Well? Let’s have it.”

Harry swallowed, his throat constricting like a Devil’s Snare. “I…think I might be gay.”

Draco regarded him for a few minutes. “That’s it? You think you might gay?”

“That’s your reaction!?” Harry bristled. “I have the mother of wet dreams, about Snape none the less, I manage to tell you and all you have to say is that?!”

Draco’s expression was now torn between mirth and horror. “Snape?”

“Yes, I said Snape,” Harry said nastily, before he snatched the bottle back and drank again. He handed the bottle back to Draco and hung his head. “Fuck, why the hell does this happen to me?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what you’re so worked up about. If I were you, if you do turn out to be gay, then you should worry about what some of those Mudbloods might think.”

Harry glared at him. “You don’t mean Hermione.”

“Yes, I mean Hermione,” Draco said her name a bit spitefully. “Do you know how big an issue that is in the Wizarding world?”

Harry shrugged. “A big one?” he took the bottle and drank again.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Merlin, growing up with Muggles must really make you ignorant. Try virtually nothing. Since there are potions and spells that allow for males to carry children, it doesn’t have the same ramifications that it does in the Muggle world. There’s nothing like that in the Muggle world. Not that Muggles have a very wide view to begin with.”

“And that means no children, which might violate the natural order of things in their eyes.” Harry paused. “There really are potions and spells that allow for that?”

“Didn’t I just say that?” Draco said, taking the bottle back for a drink.

Harry felt a slight burden being lifted off. But still, he wasn’t too sure if-

“Look Harry, I’ll make this easy for you,” Draco said as he handed the bottle to him. “You haven’t had a girlfriend since that Chang girl, right?”

Harry nodded his head.

“Have you even looked at or considered another girl?”

Harry opened his mouth before he closed it. He shook his head.

“Find yourself spending more time in the company of guys?”

Again, something a bit true; but since his time was equally divided between Quidditch and homework, he couldn’t really say. He shrugged as he raised the bottle to his lips.

“Bad question then. Find yourself sneaking peeks at other guys’ arses?”

Harry choked on the liquor that had started to flow down his throat. He glared at Draco who simply looked back at him intently, his face going bright red. His mind was already flashing back to seeing Snape on the couch...and he certainly did have a nice arse. Those black pants Snape wore contoured it perfectly and - Harry squeezed his eyes shut at that thought; he should not be thinking about Snape like that. And certainly not about his arse...no! Not about Snape's arse!

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Draco mused. “Did you enjoy your…‘stimulating’ dream?”

Harry felt his face turn an even brighter shade of red; he suddenly sympathized with Ron.

“Thoroughly from the looks of it,” Draco mused wryly. “So you might be gay. And I highly doubt you’ll,” Draco snickered a bit. “Dream about Snape again. So, tell me, what’s the big deal?”

Harry tried to find some reason, any reason to counter what Draco said. So he might be gay. What was the big deal? He regarded Draco for a moment before he took the bottle back and took a swig.

“Do you always make it so you sound right?”

Draco gave a smug smirk as Harry handed the bottle back to him. “I do try.”

“Gloat.” Harry muttered good-naturedly. “I think we’ve wasted enough time here, don’t you?”

“I suppose. The liquor is almost done now.” Draco said a bit mournfully as he rose, swaying slightly.

“Back to our respective dorm rooms.”

“Aren’t you going to get caught?” Harry asked as he picked up his invisibility cloak.

“I got up here without that mummified old cat catching me. I think I can make it to my room in one piece.”

Harry chuckled. “Mummified, huh? More like the walking dead, I’d say.”

“Either one fits,” Draco said as he opened the door. “You know, I imagine that half the school would have a fit if they saw us getting along.”

“You know,” Harry mused as they walked down the stairs. “Sooner or later, they’re going to wonder why things keep involving certain people. Namely us.”

Note

In order to make up this curse - crufuto - I took two Latin words and fused them together after dropping a few letters. The underlined letters were dropped.
crux: cross.
confuto: to check, repress, stop, halt, turn back /silence.

And sans is French meaning without.

When Darkness Comes - Chapter Twelve || When Darkness Comes - Chapter Fourteen