Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not making any money from this story, and I don't intend to. I'm writing it purely for the satisfaction of it, and because several people warned me that there would be dire consequences if I didn't finish it. The resemblance of any character to an actual person is completely accidental. Please don't sue -- I don't own enough to make it worth your while.

Note: This is a Harry / Severus slash story -- and while their relationship is also accompanied by plot, action, and drama, if you seriously object to the slash element -- or to the particular pairing -- then don't read the story!

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THE MIRROR OF MAYBE
-- Aftermath (Part I) --

----oo00oo----

It was not until several minutes later that Harry finally convinced Severus that yes, he actually had said 'Soul Mage' and yes, he was deadly serious about it, and no, the chance of him being mistaken was vanishingly small.

"We need to tell Albus," was Severus' first reaction as he hastily started to climb out of bed.

"Not right now we don't," Harry argued, pulling him back down.

"But--"

"Look, it's not as bad as it sounds -- well, at least not yet."

"The Dark Lord just became a Soul Mage and it's not as bad as it sounds?!" Severus demanded incredulously.

"That's right," Harry told him firmly. "He's only performed the first step. He now has the ability to perform Soul Magic -- but he's never actually done it! And as with any spell or ability that's never been used, he won't be very good at it until he's had the chance to practice and... uh... experiment." Severus shuddered, but Harry doggedly continued. "He's also just expended a lot of energy, and his magic would've been taxed to its limit trying to cope with the surge of power. He won't be weak -- but he'll be exhausted and sore. If we're lucky, it might even be painful for him to cast spells for a day or two -- which means there could be a sizeable delay before he even starts trying to figure out how to use this new ability."

"And if that isn't enough for you," Harry added, "then consider this -- performing Soul Magic takes a lot of regular magical ability. It will drain him significantly every time he uses it. That'll leave him vulnerable after each instance, and he'll hate that." Harry paused to see how Severus was taking his explanations. The Potions Master looked somewhat calmer, though not significantly reassured.

"If we knew where Voldemort was," Harry finished, "it would be the ideal time to attack. But we don't -- or at least I don't," and he looked questioningly at Severus. The Potions Master shook his head slightly to indicate that he didn't either, and that he knew Albus would be just as ignorant. "Then there's absolutely nothing we can do right now is there? So why disturb Albus in the middle of the night? It's only a few more hours until breakfast. Let the man sleep -- we can tell him in the morning."

Severus still looked dubious, but grudgingly allowed himself to be coaxed back down into a sitting position on the bed. Harry chose to display his own lack of anxiety by stretching out across his side of the mattress, wincing a little as several muscles protested their earlier abuse.

Severus -- who'd been watching the display of bare skin with appreciative eyes -- noticed both the wince and the shift to a slightly more comfortable position. Harry watched as a somewhat troubled expression appeared on the other man's face. "Something wrong?" he asked curiously.

Severus seemed to consider that for a moment -- as though he wasn't quite sure. When he finally replied, there was a cautious note to his voice.

"It seems we're both a bit the worse for wear," he commented, "even though I vaguely recall something about a healing potion -- one of mine I think."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I knew we'd need them. Although I may have done a bit of... damage... to your storage cupboard while I was getting them. Sorry about that..."

Severus was looking at him with an indecipherable expression. "You knew we'd need them," he repeated carefully. Harry nodded, not quite sure where this was leading.

"So you've... done that before?" Severus asked. "Last night was some sort of... War Mage thing?"

Harry looked at him blankly. "What... breaking into potions cupboards?"

Severus stared at him as though he was a complete moron.

"Sleeping with Potions Professors?" Harry hazarded.

There was a disgusted noise from the man beside him. "No you idiot," Severus told him scornfully, "I mean the... the mix of pleasure and pain. During sex."

The light dawned. Severus was worried that Ash -- being a War Mage -- might like a little pain during sex. Harry could feel his face turning red. //Hell,// he thought desperately, //I haven't blushed this much in one night since I really was sixteen.// How on earth was he going to explain this?

"It's true," he began carefully, "that War Mages are taught how to balance pleasure and pain so as not to be overwhelmed by either one. But it's not... I mean... the skill can be applied to sex, but that's not why -- or how -- we learn it. We study our bodies to know what they're capable of and how we'll react in certain situations. Pleasure and pain are just about the most basic stimuli anyone can be subjected to -- and when they're used against us, we can be broken, healed, controlled, freed, or simply made to behave in ways that are completely foreign to our normal behaviour. By understanding pleasure and pain, and how we're affected by it, a War Mage can gain a measure of control over those effects -- as the we did last night."

"Ah," Severus nodded, looking somewhat relieved. "I believe I understand."

At which point Harry decided it might be fun to tease Sev just a little. "But of course," he continued innocently, "pretty much every War Mage I know of has, um... experimented... with those particular lessons. And of course, sex is such an interesting way to test all the practical applications." Then Harry cheerfully added: "A few members of the circle even come to prefer a bit more... variety... in their physical relationships."

Severus blinked at him. "Really," he said with a carefully neutral expression.

Harry laughed, and then quickly added: "But I promise you I'm not one of them. I do not enjoy pain in any form -- and what happened last night wasn't what I wanted or would have chosen."

Severus shot him a disgusted look that said quite a bit about his opinion of Ash's sense of humour. Then Sev tilted his head thoughtfully. "But you wanted me," he mused quietly.

"Yes." There didn't seem to be much more Harry could say to that.

"Why?" Severus asked bluntly. "Is it because we conveniently happen to work together? Or because we both prefer men and you can't be bothered looking for anyone else who shares our preference in partners?"

Harry snorted with amusement. "Well first off, I'm quite capable of apparating anywhere I want. If you moved to Timbuktu, you'd still find me hanging around after I'd finished classes for the day. And secondly, I don't prefer men."

Severus shot him a surprised look. "You're bisexual?"

"Professor," Harry said with a heavy touch of sarcasm. "I'm a mage. That means I have the ability to see things from a completely non-human perspective. It should come as no surprise to you that every intelligent being believes its own kind is the most attractive when it comes to sex. Quite frankly, I sometimes wake up grateful for the fact that I still prefer my own species!"

Severus looked a bit shocked. "You haven't... that is... with dwarves... or anything?"

It was all Harry could do not to fall back into hysterical laughter. "No I haven't... with dwarves anyway. But I hope you're not going to hold elves against me -- of either gender."

By now Severus had the look of someone who wasn't sure if they were still being teased or not. But at least elves were all strikingly attractive by human standards. Elves he could understand. Dwarves or -- Merlin forbid -- goblins, would've been way too much information.

But Harry -- who was still secretly laughing at Sev's confusion -- had one more bit of entertainment to throw out. "You know," he added casually, "you're actually the second person at Hogwarts to ask me about my sexual preferences. Draco wanted to know whether flobberworms looked any good to me."

Flobberworms? And Severus suddenly realised how absurd the conversation had become. "He didn't!" the Potions Master laughed. "The cheeky little bugger! I hope you gave him detention for a week!"

"I probably should have," Harry agreed, "but somehow he 'wormed' his way out of it."

Severus winced at the awful pun.

"Sorry," Harry smirked.

"Not as sorry as you should be," Severus replied looking pained.

Harry's smirk only got wider, and Severus regarded it -- and him -- with a mildly irritated expression. But the irritation soon faded as Severus realised that he'd been very effectively diverted from his question.

"Ash," Severus said firmly -- determined to finally have an answer. "I really would like to know: why me? If it's not due to convenience or sexual preference, then why have you been pursuing me? If it's information you're after, you'd be much better off speaking to Albus."

"Professor..." Harry sighed. How could he explain this to Severus so that he'd believe it? Perhaps it was time to call upon his more Slytherin side -- time to explain some of the darker aspects of the man named War Mage Ash.

"You know I'm a War Mage--" Harry began.

"No -- really?" came the sarcastic interruption. "I'd never have guessed."

"Shut up," Harry responded automatically. "You asked. I'm answering. Don't interrupt."

Severus looked torn between amusement and indignation. But he stayed silent.

"As I was saying," Harry continued, "you know I'm a War Mage, but you haven't really stopped to consider all the implications of that title. The most obvious one is that I react suddenly and violently to being surprised. But just think about that for a second, and then tell me what kind of person -- wizard or witch -- wants to be with someone who might hex them simply for sneaking back to bed after a quick trip to the bathroom?"

Severus frowned. "But they would know about that reaction. Why would they 'sneak' as you so quaintly put it?"

"Because," Harry explained, "it's the polite thing to do -- trying not to wake your lover. And they'd be half-asleep themselves and not expecting an attack from the person in bed with them."

Severus was still frowning. "If they knew that person was you, then they'd have to be an idiot not to expect it."

Harry laughed. "According to you half the world is made up of idiots." Severus acknowledged that with a little snort of derision. "And as if that wasn't enough," Harry added, "just think about what happened here tonight. Even though you were half out of your mind with pain, you still knew exactly what I was trying to accomplish when I joined our minds -- you understood what I was offering and how to use it to survive. You don't seriously think some pretty young witch I picked up in Hogsmeade would've coped with that do you?"

"Probably not," Severus agreed. "But somehow I don't think tonight's events are likely to repeat themselves."

"But they still happened," Harry argued, "and even if that particular example never crops up again, who's to say some other horror won't? I'm a War Mage Professor. That means I've seen things -- done things -- that would send most wizarding folk screaming into the night."

"But not me," Severus replied slowly. His eyes on Harry were shadowed and unreadable.

"No," Harry agreed softly. "Not you. Never you. You've walked in shadows just as I have -- and even if they weren't the same shadows, it doesn't matter. They taught us both the same lessons."

"Such as?"

Harry gave him a considering look, and then asked: "Are you afraid of the Killing Curse?"

"Of course," Severus replied. "What fool isn't?"

Harry ignored Sev's question in favour of his own. "Why?" he asked intently. "Why do you fear it?"

"I... it's too much -- too much power. It... corrupts -- pulls you in. The ability to say who lives and who dies -- the fear in their faces -- it's addictive. And it... warps you."

"Yes," Harry agreed quietly. "I know."

Severus looked surprised for a moment. Then a look of understanding crossed his face as he murmured, "Most people would've said they were afraid because they don't want to die." Then with certainty, he added: "But you would've given me the same answer I just gave you."

Harry gave him a sad little half-smile. "And that," Harry stated, "is why I want you. You understand. There is Darkness -- and then there is Evil. And although most people don't realise it, they're not the same thing. But you already know that -- so you won't suddenly hate me, or flee in terror, when I eventually do something that proves I'm every bit as Dark as I am Light."

Severus was silent, and Harry noticed his eyes straying to the battle-scarred lion imprinted on his chest. Aside from Harry's curse scar, Severus had yet to make any comment on the long-healed wounds that criss-crossed Harry's skin -- or on the tattoos embedded beneath them.

Only Dark and malicious magic caused permanent scars on a wizard -- and even then, only if the healers couldn't get to the wound in time, or couldn't neutralize the foreign magic before the scar stabilised.

Severus too, wore scars upon his body. They were far fewer in number than Harry's, but they were still there -- puckered flesh marring his otherwise smooth skin. The War Mage knew they were not something the other man was proud of, and it was then that he realised why Severus hadn't asked about any of Harry's other scars. The one-time Death Eater obviously didn't want Ash asking questions about his own wounds, or any of the awful ways he had acquired them.

//I won't ask,// Harry silently promised. //But you once trusted me enough to want to tell me -- and one day you will again.//

However it wasn't Harry's scars that currently held such fascination for the Potions Master.

"A Dark Gryffindor..." Severus murmured while staring at the tattoo on Harry's chest. For some reason, he seemed... surprised.

Amused, Harry silently reached out and took Severus' hand. The Potions Master was still sitting upright on the bed, and he unconsciously shifted closer as Harry gently pulled the captured hand down towards his chest. Harry laid it palm-down, with fingers spread, over the vivid image of Gryffindor's famous lion.

Severus' eyes widened in shock.

Harry could feel the image on his chest shifting subtly beneath his skin, and knew that his beloved Potions Master was presently experiencing the ghostly sensation of warm fur between his fingers.

The soft rumble of a great cat echoed silently in the air. It was impossible to tell whether the sound was real. Like the memory of a dream -- it was there, but not.

"Life Ink..." Severus breathed, awe and appreciation written on his face.

Well of course. The man was a Potions Master -- and there were few, even among Masters, with the skill to successfully create Life Ink. This was quite possibly the first time Severus had ever seen the substance actually in use. Watching the shadows play across the other man's face, Harry idly wondered whether Severus had ever brewed Life Ink himself. But it seemed unlikely, given that the precious liquid was so expensive to make and had such a limited market.

Severus tugged his hand away and Harry allowed it.

The Potions Master looked at him with a curious expression. "I know how Life Ink works," he began. "The image is, in part, generated from you -- from your thoughts and memories. I have no particular liking for Gryffindors, but even I can see that this is... magnificent work. How you can be Dark -- be anything other than completely Light -- when you have that on you?"

With a start, Harry realised that Severus didn't know about his other tattoo. This confused him until he remembered that neither of them had been in any shape to notice such things earlier. And after they'd awoken, Harry had always been facing the other man -- well, except for when he'd gone to get the calming potion. But Severus had been laughing too hard to pay any attention to it then. Had there been any time after that when Severus had touched his back? A brief moment when the other man might've been felt the cool slide of smooth scales under his fingers?

No.

//Right now,// Harry mused, //he must think I'm the most stereotypical Gryffindor since Godric himself walked these halls.//

Well. It was definitely time to disabuse Severus of that idea.

"Professor," Harry began in a low dangerous purr, "don't make the mistake of assuming that all Gryffindors are arrogant, self-righteous, and brave to the point of stupidity."

"Then you are a Gryffindor?" Severus asked suspiciously. "You attended Hogwarts as a student?" Harry could practically hear the Potions Master wondering whether he could rely on someone whose House was so notorious for it's inflexible adherence to 'right' and 'wrong'.

"Attended Hogwarts? Oh yes," Harry confirmed, still using that low sultry tone. "But not under the name 'Ash' of course. I didn't earn that name until later..." Abruptly Harry sat up, ignoring the protest of sore muscles. At the same time, Severus twitched backwards, instinctively wary of the predatory light that had appeared in the War Mage's eyes. Harry tilted his head thoughtfully as he watched Severus trying to deal with the fact that 'Ash' was currently displaying some very dangerous and decidedly non-Gryffindor behaviour patterns.

Harry smirked at him. "But even if you did try to find my name on the roles," he added, "there's no guarantee you'd find it in Gryffindor..." Gracefully, Harry arched his back, exposing his throat and drawing Severus' gaze. "Look..." he commanded, and then suddenly turned away.

Shoulders flexed. Muscle shifted under candlelight. A soft hiss teased at the edge of hearing.

Behind him, Severus gasped.

Harry could almost feel Severus' hand moving towards his spine -- pulled in by the desire to actually touch the deadly beauty that was the emblem of his House -- of their House.

"Stop," Harry commanded -- and Severus' hand froze, mere inches from his skin.

"This isn't like the lion," Harry explained softly. "You have more than enough courage to be worthy of him, but it's not in your nature to be part of him. You aren't Gryffindor, and you never will be. And even if you could -- you wouldn't want to. But the serpent... You're as much Slytherin as I, and because of that your touch on my other tattoo would be very different -- far more... personal." Harry paused. No words could ever truly explain what he was trying to say. It would be more useful to simply give Severus the warning, and then let him choose.

"There's a risk," Harry whispered, "associated with touching it. But if you still want to -- then you'll have to do exactly as I say."

There was a moment's silence. Then: "Tell me."

Harry made himself comfortable, settling himself closer to the edge of the bed so that he could swing both legs over the side and sit upright more easily. "You need to be closer," he told Severus. "I need you to rest your hand on my shoulder without feeling uncomfortable, or getting tired. If we're going to do this, then you can't pull away. You mustn�t take your hand off my shoulder until I say you can -- no matter what happens. If you pull away too soon, I'm not sure what will happen -- to either of us."

"I understand," Severus replied as he shifted closer. The other man's curiosity was almost a physical sensation, and Harry imagined that he could sense it radiating from Severus like the heat of the other man's body close behind him. In comparison, the rest of the room suddenly seemed cold.

Harry closed his eyes. He wanted to feel every moment of this. "All right," he said softly. "Put one hand on my shoulder and for Merlin's sake -- keep it there!"

Severus' hand brushed his bare skin, and then settled steadily onto his left shoulder.

Harry focused on Slytherin and everything that being Slytherin meant to him.

On his back -- under his skin -- the serpent came alive.

----oo00oo----

When Severus had first glimpsed the snake twisting its way down Ash's spine, his immediate reaction had been one of sheer disbelief.

//How is that possible!?// came the astonished thought. Oh, he understood well enough that most people had a little bit of all four Houses in them. Some of his Slytherins for example, could be almost as studious as Ravenclaws. But there was usually one dominant characteristic that had more influence on a person's behaviour than any other, and that was what determined which House they belonged in.

Occasionally a child would be evenly balanced between two or more Houses. But even then, it was virtually guaranteed that after seven years of living with the attitudes and beliefs of their Housemates, the characteristics of the House they ended up in would be reinforced until the wizard or witch actually did belong there rather than anywhere else.

So how could it be that War Mage Ash -- whose mind could produce such a powerful image of the Gryffindor lion -- was also wearing an equally powerful and stunning image of Slytherin's emerald serpent?

It shouldn't be possible.

Particularly with those two Houses.

"Stop."

And Severus automatically obeyed, hearing the underlying warning in Ash's voice. He hadn't even realised his hand was moving. But in hindsight, he wasn't surprised. He'd been astonished by the feel of the lion under his fingers, and also by the fact that -- if the strangely silent purr was any indication -- the beast actually seemed to approve of him! But the snake...

It was... compelling...

He was drawn to it -- identifying with it as he never would with the lion. Small wonder his hand had moved of its own volition.

And now Ash was telling him about what it might be like to actually feel those gleaming scales beneath his fingertips.

Different from the lion? Of course. How could it not be? Far more personal? Oh, yes -- always.

But there was apparently some sort of danger involved. A 'risk' Ash was saying. //Naturally,// he thought. //We are talking about Slytherin after all.// He considered the warning carefully. But Ash seemed willing -- so long as Severus followed instructions. He could do that. And he really wanted to touch...

"Tell me."

And Ash did.

Cautiously, Severus moved closer, folding his right leg in behind Ash's back, and draping the other down beside Ash's thigh. So close...

At Ash's instruction, he gently laid his left hand on the other man's shoulder.

And the serpent moved.

Severus' breath caught in his throat as he watched the snake unwind itself from Ash's spine and twist its head towards the hand on its master's shoulder.

Incredible.

All wizarding tattoos moved -- but not like this. Their shifting beneath the skin was supposed to be subtle -- a small thing that caught the eye, giving the image more life than it would've otherwise had. But the range of movement varied depending on the power of the owner's magic -- and the depth of emotion and meaning imbued into the Life Ink.

Severus watched -- mesmerised -- as the scaled body flowed like water over muscle and bone -- falling in and out of darkness where Severus' body cast shadows against Ash's golden skin. The serpent's head disappeared under the edge of his hand. Severus shuddered slightly as the feeling of dry scales rustled against his palm. A soothing hiss echoed in his mind.

And then...

Gasp.

His hand clutched reflexively at Ash's shoulder, and Severus stared in horrified wonder as the tip of the snake's head slithered into view -- on the back of his hand!

No -- not on his hand... under his skin!

"Merlin," came his strangled gasp.

And then the magic hit him.

The emotion -- the power -- everything Ash had put into the creation of his Slytherin tattoo poured into Severus. He could feel it, hear it, see it -- even taste it. He was part of it. Slytherin in him -- under his skin. No wonder Ash had warned him. No wonder Ash couldn't explain what he was warning him about.

Without conscious thought, Severus' eyes followed the snake as it slithered further up his forearm. He let the sensations -- both physical and magical -- wash over him. This was... there were no words. Darkness was everywhere. It lived and breathed in him -- and in the man before him. But it was a clean Darkness -- a natural thing -- the way Severus had always known it should be -- before Voldemort had come and twisted everything.

Still clutching Ash's shoulder, Severus closed his eyes and leaned forward until his forehead came to rest on Ash's shoulders. He was Slytherin. They were Slytherin. Severus kissed the skin beneath his lips, then turned his head and rested his cheek against the warm body of his lover. He opened his eyes. The snake's unblinking gaze glittered at him as it turned, moving down and around -- assiduously avoiding the Dark Mark until it could begin its return journey on the underside of his forearm.

A little less than half the snake's length now graced Severus' skin, and the Potions Master realised that by the time the first half had made its way back along the bottom, the snake's tail would be just arriving at the edge of his hand. At no time would the tattoo ever be entirely upon him -- and he suddenly understood what Ash had meant about not knowing what would happen if he unexpectedly pulled his hand away. Who knew what the consequences might be if such a strong and... intimate... magical connection was abruptly destroyed by being literally torn in half.

Ash's hand came around to pull his right arm forward. Severus gave in and draped himself across Ash's back, allowing the War Mage to embrace his right arm until -- once again -- Severus found himself with lion's fur trailing soft warmth beneath his fingertips. //Gryffindor,// Severus remembered. But the memory seemed vague and distant. It was Slytherin that dominated his mind and emotions now. //I am Slytherin. He is Slytherin.// But a silent growl forced the memory into reality -- demanding the acknowledgement: //He is Gryffindor too.// The growl returned to its previous purr. //But the Gryffindor in him is willing to accept me.//

Then Ash's voice came to him -- a whispered understanding breathed out in candlelight and cold dungeons in the middle of the night -- "It's hard," the War Mage told him, "to find someone who understands -- someone who shares your underlying beliefs -- even though they might seem nothing like you on the surface. Wizarding tattoos can only be shared like this when two people have the same understanding of the concept that formed the tattoo."

"No two people ever have exactly the same understanding of anything," Severus protested quietly. His right hand was lazily stroking soft fur, and absently mapping a well-defined chest.

"It's close enough," Ash told him.

And after that, they were both silent.

The serpent continued its journey until Severus could feel it moving across Ash's back wherever his own skin pressed up against the War Mage. The tattoo was once more under its master's skin and not his own, which both relieved and disappointed him. It had been an amazing experience, but overwhelming too, and he wasn't sure he wanted to feel that... exposed... again for a very long time.

Eventually, Ash sighed and one of the hands that had been cradling his right arm came up and pulled Severus' hand down from the mage's shoulder. Ash wrapped Severus' left arm around himself and leaned back into the Potions Master's embrace. Severus could feel the muted presence of the lion under his arms, and the snake pressed against his chest. Two Houses -- one man. In his arms.

"What if it's not?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Close enough," Severus explained. "What if it's -- we're -- not close enough? Not... compatible?"

"But what if we are?" Ash asked him in return. Severus was silent, and the War Mage sighed again. "I don't know what to tell you," he continued, "-- what I could say to convince you..."

"I don't know either."

Ash stirred and pulled away from him. Severus let him go.

But he didn't go far.

"Professor," Ash began as he turned and brought a hand up to the side of Severus' jaw, "I may not be able to give you my name as yet, but I can at least give you this: I swear upon my oath as a War Mage that whatever happens -- or doesn't happen -- between us, I will not abandon you to Voldemort's wrath. I've been told I'm a fair actor when I need to be, and you know that my profession means I understand the value of a spy so highly-placed amongst the enemy. I hope my acting skills won't be needed, but even if they are, Voldemort will never doubt my attachment to you."

It seemed a rash promise to Severus. But as far as he could tell, Ash appeared to be sincere. And it was true that a War Mage would know how critical it was to have a spy in Voldemort's ranks. Ash would protect him for that reason alone if he had to.

He still didn't know whether Ash's interest in him would last out the week, but at least the consequences of its decline wouldn't be life-threatening. And with that thought, Severus suddenly realised that he'd already made up his mind. //I must be mad,// he told himself. But for some reason it was a strangely exuberant madness. //And I suppose,// he mused, //there's always the hope that even if we aren't compatible as lovers, we may at least become friends.// He'd never considered that option with any of his previous lovers, but with Ash he thought it might be possible. From what little he knew, the War Mage didn't seem to be the sort of man who wallowed in blame and recriminations at the end of a relationship. In fact, now that he knew Ash didn't limit himself only to men, Severus strongly suspected that the very... enthusiastic... female War Mage was probably one of Ash's former lovers -- and she was obviously still a good friend.

He could live with that.

And with that thought, Severus suddenly became aware of a calloused thumb that was gently stroking the line of his jaw, and the naked man who was still sitting so close.

Ash seemed to realise that he'd made a decision.

"May I stay?" he asked.

So eager. So hopeful.

"You may," Severus replied. The he smiled just a little and added, "If you can manage to do so without the necessity for any more healing potions."

Ash leaned forward and kissed him very lightly on the lips. Unbelievably, Severus felt the distant vague stirrings of desire. "No more of that," he cautioned, laying a finger over Ash's lips, "or you really will be the death of me."

Ash nipped at the finger, but Severus was too fast for him. "Then you'll let me come here again? To your rooms?" the War Mage queried, still seeking reassurance of Severus' decision.

"Most definitely," Severus chuckled as he lay down, pulling the other man along with him. "In fact," he added smugly, "I intend to make you 'come' here as often as possible." It was a crude double entendre, but he knew it had been successful when the War Mage gave a chuckle that held faint overtones of giggling.

Ash quieted as Severus gently stroked his back -- still fascinated by the occasional sensation of scales as he brushed lightly past Ash's less-visible tattoo. //Such a Slytherin place for it,// Severus mused. //Hidden away where no-one can see it unless he chooses to show it to them.//

Ash was almost asleep. He was obviously not used to being awake in the early hours between midnight and dawn. Severus noted the way the other man unconsciously arched into his touch. //So responsive...// he thought. That pleased him. It would be fun later to find out just how responsive Ash really was.

But something about it also bothered him. It almost seemed as though Ash was... touch-starved. As though the other man had spent a large part of his life with little or no positive physical contact. Severus had seen similar reactions in children who'd been abused or neglected. Sometimes such treatment manifested as a desire to avoid any kind of physical contact at all, while at other times it showed itself as a desperate need for all forms of touch -- whether socially acceptable or not. But in a rare few, it shaped a never-ending reverence and joy for the privilege of being allowed to hold another person in their arms.

Ash touched him like that -- as though he felt honoured that Severus would allow him such intimacy. The Potions Master wondered what could have happened -- how it could be that someone like Ash might've been mistreated as a child.

But then, he was probably reading too much into it. He knew hardly anything about War Mages and their training. Perhaps it was simply a consequence of something they were taught. He'd heard from some of the other teachers that the female War Mage certainly seemed to enjoy physical contact. And Ash had already told him that all War Mages experimented with sex -- which naturally included touching. Yes, that was probably a more reasonable explanation.

Ash snuggled closer, and Severus felt the Gryffindor tattoo brushing up against his side. There was such power in those tattoos -- so much magic and emotion embodied in them. The man himself would be no less powerful -- and clearly no less passionate. It was frightening -- but intoxicating at the same time. Severus wondered -- not for the first time -- what the hell he was doing.

He sighed quietly to himself. //No-one could ever claim my life is boring,// he reflected. But at least he'd be able to entertain himself by watching the rest of the Hogwarts population when they realised that he and Ash were involved. In fact the shocked looks and sudden silences he could foresee might prove to be very entertaining indeed. That is, if the shock didn't kill off too many of them first.

And then, with dawning horror, Severus remembered.

Not every staff member was going to be surprised.

//Oh hell,// he thought. //Albus is going to have a field day.//

----oo00oo----