MEASURE OF A MAN
Chapter 1
Why do you ask him move to heaven and earthDraco Malfoy fidgeted under the steady emerald gaze of the boy he had secretly adored for six years. He had accompanied Dumbledore after appealing to the old wizard for help. He could feel the old man's presence behind him, silently supporting his presence. Draco's decision to ally with the Order had been based on self-preservation, ambition, and the realization that he could not face Harry Potter or Severus Snape on the battlefield.
Further inside, he could see the other members of the Golden Trio hovering, and behind them was the Head of Slytherin House, Professor Severus Snape. Next to him, Draco could see his one-time teacher, Remus Lupin. Draco wondered silently at the lack of animosity he was seeing between his Head of House and the werewolf, but kept his curiosity to himself. "Come on in, Malfoy," Harry said finally, his tone somehow authoritative despite his age. "If you insult anyone, I'll throw you out myself."
"Don't worry, Potter," Draco drawled his reply. "I won't call either Granger or Weasley names."
"You won't insult anyone," was the firm rejoinder. Harry's mouth was set firmly, indicating to Draco just how serious he was.
"Agreed," Draco said, holding out his hand. Harry looked at it, then gazed into Draco's pale blue eyes, took the proffered hand and shook it.
"Welcome to Grimmauld Place," Harry said with a half grin that Draco remembered so well. "We'll find you a room and training starts tomorrow."
"Training?" Draco asked, curious again. His questioning gaze turned to the silent form of Snape, watching the enigmatic man as he nodded slightly.
"Alright, training." Draco agreed, inclining his own head a fraction.
"Follow me," Harry said. He led Draco upstairs and opened a door. "This is your room. If you need anything, I'm next door and Professor Snape's across the hall from me." He turned to leave.
"Potter," Draco suddenly felt awkward for the first time in a long time. Harry turned to him, puzzled.
"Thank you," he said simply. Harry nodded and continued down stairs.
When Harry got to the bottom of the stairs, Ron and Hermione were waiting. Harry looked past them to where Snape and Lupin were talking quietly with Dumbledore, who had brought Draco with him. The three older wizards turned towards their students after a moment.
"I suppose you are wondering," Dumbledore finally said. "Why I brought young Mister Malfoy here."
"Not really," Harry said neutrally "I can figure out that Malfoy's got training we don't, and we can teach each other a lot. I'm wondering why he agreed. He hates me."
"You might be surprised, Potter," Snape said. "Some people behave as they have been raised to because the alternative is unthinkable. Even when what is expected of them is abhorrent."
"Very well, sir," Harry said. "I meant what I said, though. If Malfoy insults anyone, he's out."
"He agreed, Potter," Snape said. "Draco Malfoy is a man of his word."
"He better be."
~*~*~*~*~
Midnight descended on 12 Grimmauld Place and the four teenagers were asleep, unaware of the wakefulness of their elders. Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts, promising that others of the Order would be arriving in the next few days.
Remus Lupin was still deep in mourning for Sirius Black and spent much of every night silently weeping and groping at the bedding they had once shared, as if hoping to find his lover.
Severus Snape was having thoughts of a different nature and an altogether disparate source. His opinions and ideas about Harry Potter had undergone a radical change. He had always assumed Harry to be a spoiled child with delusions of his own invulnerability. The boy's handsome face, the best features of both his parents, only made it easier to believe such a thing.
Then Severus had been sent to Surrey to retrieve Harry Potter from the Dursley's home at 4 Privet Drive. He had never imagined the effect that the boy's environment (or Lily's relatives) would have on him.
Harry Potter's humility was abruptly far more real.
Now Severus had nothing to combat his growing attraction to his most famous, and troublesome student.
The silence of the night was shattered by agonized cries that roused everyone and brought them to the source: Harry. Severus jumped as the first scream of agony ripped through the silent night. He did not take time to don his usual robes and Nehru jacket, or to button and tuck in his shirt. Barefooted, he was across the hall so quickly that it did not feel as if his feet hit the ground.
Harry was thrashing on his bed, swiping at the air as if to knock something away. His eyes kept opening and closing, but he gave no indication of being aware of his surroundings. Snape heard the others arrive behind him, but his attention was focused on the tortured young man on the bed. He immediately knelt on the bed and wrapped his arms around Harry's body, pinning his arms to his torso. With no way to attempt to alter what he was seeing, Harry began to convulse, still screaming, trapped in whatever he was seeing.
"Draco!" Snape cried, fearful that Harry would either swallow his tongue or bite it. "Give me that hairbrush!" He used his chin to point at a handsome implement with a green lacquered handle. Hair disheveled and pajamas askew, Draco snatched it and tossed it to Snape without a word, his face more pale than usual.
Snape stuffed the handle of the brush into Harry's mouth, stifling his cries and wedging his jaws apart. He heard Lupin shushing Hermione and Ron from their immediate protests. Lupin had enough experience with involuntary reactions to know some of the dangers.
"Granger," Snape snapped when he was sure that the brush would not be dislodged "Go across the hall to my room and fetch the small trunk on the bureau! Weasley, get downstairs and heat some water!" In one part of his mind, he realized that he was being overly harsh, but his worry over Harry's condition gave him little time to be considerate of their feelings.
Hermione fled like a hungry dragon was after her, relieved that someone seemed to know what to do, and that Snape, at least, was keeping his head. She wasn't so sure about her own.
Ron paused next to Lupin for a moment, biting his lip, and then he left to follow his orders. Harry had been having nightmares since he had known him, but nothing like this. He wanted to help, but didn't know what to do. In any other circumstances, he would have balked at the orders, but his fears made him obedient.
Draco stepped back until his back brushed the wall. He wanted to be out of the way, especially if Weasley was going to come back up with hot water. If Snape needed more help from him, he would know soon enough.
Lupin moved around to the far side of the bed, ready to assist, but not wishing to be in Snape's way. If the potions master knew how to bring Harry out of it, he would trust him to do it. If he did not, there could always be retribution later.
Hermione quickly returned with the trunk he had specified. She dropped to kneel next to the bed, anxiety written all over her face. Snape moved one arm from the still-thrashing body, removed three phials from the trunk and handed her a jar.
"Steep two tablespoons in a teapot full of boiling water, then bring the tea service up here." Snape snapped. She took the jar and ran from the room, as if glad to be doing something constructive. "Lupin, hold him still," he said, then uncapped the first phial and poured the contents into Harry's mouth, around the brush handle.
After a full agonizing minute, Harry's convulsions quieted down, and Snape removed the brush. Harry was still twitching, though, and when they opened, his eyes were glazed. Snape quickly poured the contents of the second phial down his throat. Harry seemed to relax, his eyes cleared, and then he began sobbing brokenly, wrenching himself from the werewolf's grasp and then wrapping his arms around Snape and clinging to him as if he were a lifeline.
After a time, Hermione and Ron came in with the tea, which Hermione distributed, finally sitting on the bed, holding a cup. "Harry, talk to us," she said softly.
Harry just buried his face further in Snape's chest, his sobs slowly stifling and then eventually quieting to hiccups. All the while, Snape gently rubbed Harry's back and rocked him, in a fashion that would have had everyone in the room gaping if they had not been so concerned about Harry.
Silently, Snape gestured for the others to leave the room, including Draco and Lupin in his dismissal. When Ron opened his mouth to protest, Hermione covered his mouth with her hand, and Lupin guided him out firmly.
Once outside, the other four residents of the house heard the quiet rumble of Snape's voice, and Harry's slightly higher voice, roughened with tears and still choked with sobs. The thick wooden panel kept them from hearing what was being said, even when they pressed their ears against the door. Ron had just pulled an Extendable Ear from his pocket when the door opened and Snape stepped out with his trunk floating behind him.
"What is that, Mister Weasley?" he asked.
Ron gulped like a truant schoolboy and then answered "It's an Extendable Ear, Professor," he said. "I wanted to know if Harry was all right."
"Mister Potter will sleep the rest of the night," he said. "I am quite certain that he will explain what happened in the morning." He took the Extendable Ear from Ron, put it in his pocket, and crossed the hall to his room, and firmly closed the door.
"I know that tone a little too well," Lupin said. "Let's to bed. We'll find out what happened when Harry's ready to tell us. If he's going to sleep the night out, there's no sense in trying to talk to him tonight."
"But . . ." Hermione started, only to be stopped by Lupin's upraised hand.
"One of those phials had a Dreamless Sleep potion, which I am surprised you did not notice." Lupin said. "I was not very good in Potions, and I recognized it. If Snape says Harry is going to sleep, then Harry is going to sleep. We will talk to him in the morning."
~*~*~*~*~
Draco came down stairs the next morning to see Snape presiding over the stove, talking quietly to Hermione, who was assisting. Harry was at the table, pale and wan looking, nibbling on porridge and paling even more every time one of his two table companions took a bite. Ron was ploughing through a plate of eggs, sausage, and fried potatoes. Lupin was eating similar fare.
Draco was opening his mouth to say something when Harry abruptly became very pale and lurched from the room.
Ron and Lupin watched his flight with identical expressions of bewilderment and concern on their faces.
"Lupin!" Snape snapped. "I told you! Remind me never to give you instructions again! I'm not surprised you never passed OWLs or NEWTs in potions!"
Draco looked at Snape to see him hand Hermione a plate with a cautioning glare, and followed in Harry's wake. Hermione crossed the kitchen to put a hand on Ron's shoulder as he rose to follow his friend. She handed the plate in her hand to Draco and watched, white-faced, as Snape followed Harry.
"I think this is something Harry doesn't want us to see," Hermione said. "Besides, it could be a reaction to the potions last night."
"Alright," Ron grumbled, sitting down again. "If Snape made him sick, it serves him right to have to clean up after him.
In the lavatory, Snape stood silently while Harry retched into the toilet, and then offered the young man a damp cloth to wipe his face.
"Thank you, sir," he whispered when he lowered the cloth.
"I told Lupin to cut his sausage and to make certain Mister Weasley did as well," Snape said. "One can only trust a werewolf's table manners so far."
Harry smiled weakly.
"They didn't know what I saw last night," Harry said. "I should tell them." He shuddered as he remembered the hideous spectacle that had filled his vision and assaulted his senses as if he were there.
"If you are ready," Snape said, unable to hid the concern from either Harry or himself.
"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Harry replied. "Why the sudden concern, sir?"
"You are not your father, Harry," the reply came out in a rush. "I both hated and admired you. I hated you because James was your father. I would have stood in awe of your survival, if nothing else. I respected you more for facing challenges that never should have been yours, and triumphing.
"I was overly hard with you," he continued softly, a half-smile twisting his face. "Because, I saw the man of today in that first Potions Class."
"I appreciate what you've done, in case I haven't said so," Harry said, facing the mirror and looking at Snape's reflection.
"What do you mean by that?" Snape was genuinely puzzled. The boy had appreciated his harsh treatment?
"Yes, sir," Harry saw the confusion on Snape's face, and it was not an emotion he easily associated with Severus Snape. He did not like seeing his professor at a loss. Snape had always been a constant in Harry's world, even if he was constantly irritating.
"You never treated me any different than any other student," he explained. "Unless it was to be harder on me because of my father, and my fame. The other professors acted like I was something special. You kept my feet on the ground."
"That was part of my intent," Snape said unexpectedly. "I knew the others would give you privileges that other students would not have. I did not want you to have the impression that you were invincible."
"Dumbledore did," Harry muttered resentfully. "He didn't want me to know anything for certain, though."
"You can trust the Headmaster in one way and one way only," Snape said, his mouth again quirking into what passed for a smile on him. "He will manipulate the people around him to the limits of his ability, but he will never do it with a petty or selfish reason."
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, and then rinsed his mouth. "Let's get this over with." His voice was firm, and there was a determined air about him, but Snape could see the horrors of the night before lingering in his eyes. He preceded Harry to make certain that the cause of his nausea would be gone.
~*~*~*~*~
When Harry returned to the kitchen, all traces of sausage had vanished. Wordlessly, Hermione poured a cup of tea for Harry.
"You want to know what happened last night," Harry said, looking at them each in turn. "Voldemort wanted to make an example of someone. A wizard he wanted to join him had refused. Voldemort used the exenterare curse on him."
Hermione turned pale and swallowed convulsively. She wrapped her arms around herself in a vain attempt not to shudder. None of them had heard of it before, but five years at Hogwarts had given them enough background in Latin to know the word for disemboweling.
"Harry," Ron spoke first, more than slightly green under his freckles. "If I'd known, mate, we would've asked them to make hash."
"Yes, Harry," Lupin added. "You should have told us. A lack of information is the worst liability we have."
"I've seen that curse," Draco spoke unexpectedly into the silence that followed. "My father used it on a rat once, so I could see what it did. Then he told me it was used on wizards and witches that told Him no. He also showed me how to block it." His normally pale face was ashen, but he turned resolutely to Harry.
"I could show you."
"He knew you weren't going to be a Death Eater?" Hermione questioned.
"My father loves me," was the reply. "He wanted me to make my own choice and be certain that no one could prohibit it."
"We learned loads of stuff last year," Ron said, his color returning to normal as his mind was distracted from envisioning the results of the curse. "You show us and we'll show you."
"That's a deal."
~*~*~*~*~
Snape watched closely as Harry and Draco dueled in the large basement. Nearby, Lupin was supervising Ron and Hermione. After an hour, the four teenagers would switch partners. Snape was supposed to be paying attention to the curses and countercurses being cast, but he found himself distracted by the play of muscles under the t-shirt Harry was wearing. In the three days since Draco had arrived, Harry had trained even harder, both magically and physically. He slept so deeply at night that he never woke when Snape came in to watch him, dreading another vision. Snape had begun to notice Harry's body then, since the young man rarely wore more than pajama bottoms to bed. Snape had even once dared to run one hand down the hard ridged muscles of Harry's chest and stomach.
Snape was jolted out of his reverie by the sound of a body hitting the floor and Draco's alarmed cry.
"Harry!"
Harry was writhing around, one hand clamped to his scar, his face a mask of pain. His eyes were open, but glazed and unseeing.
Snape grabbed Harry, holding him tightly. His alarm blossomed into near panic when a trickle of blood appeared below Harry's grasping fingers, where the scar had split. He clamped his own hand over it and looked up at Lupin, lost for what to do.
Fortunately, Hermione never lost her head, even in a crisis.
"Malfoy!" she cried. "You must have a handkerchief! Give it to me!" She held out her hand imperiously, and Draco handed it over, his anxious eyes glued to Harry's twisted face.
Hermione folded the square of silk, cast a freezing charm on it, and then pried Snape's and Harry's hands off of the scar to replace it with the frozen handkerchief.
Harry's eyes cleared. He stared at Draco for a long moment, and then he looked at Snape, smiled in relief, and passed out.
With more gentleness than most people would believe he possessed, Snape lifted his worst enemy's son and carried him upstairs. He was so completely absorbed in the blood-streaked face before him that he missed the speculative look on Hermione's face, the confused expression on Ron, and the sad smile on Lupin's lips.
~*~*~*~*~
Upstairs, Snape laid Harry in his bed, and then sat down on the mattress to wait for him to wake up.
While he was waiting, he mused on the whims of Fate that brought mortal enemies together to guide and protect one young man. Snape and Lupin had been passive enemies ever since school. Sirius Black had been more active about his hatred.
At the end of his fifth year, Severus Snape had sworn a magical blood oath to have his revenge on James Potter. At a time like this, though, Snape wondered just who was having his revenge on whom. Feelings were stirring inside the Potions Master that had not stirred in a very long time, feelings that he thought long dead. Over the last week, Snape had spent time talking to him, getting to know Harry Potter, and focusing on what was different between James and his son, and what common ground the two of them had, rather than the opposite.
~*~*~*~*~
When Harry woke, he sensed Snape's presence immediately. He relaxed, knowing he was safe. Suddenly, without understanding where the impulse came from, Harry wanted to look as little like his father as possible He didn't want anyone to see James Potter; he wanted people to see Harry. He wanted to prove once and for all that he was not James, any more than Draco was Lucius Malfoy.
Cautiously, Harry opened his eyes just a bit and was rewarded with a sight that shocked, delighted, and frightened him all at once. He was genuinely shocked to see an expression on Snape's face other than disdain or outright loathing, and at the same time it was a bit frightening to see the always cool and composed Severus Snape in the grip of a strong emotion. For some reason, the expression on Snape's face and the knowledge that he might possibly be the cause also delighted him.
Snape sat next to him, one hand hovering over Harry's chest, tender concern and hunger warring with one another on his face. Harry groaned, and then fluttered his eyelids, finally opening his eyes to gaze directly into his Potions Master's usually unreadable ebony orbs.
"Professor?" Harry said. "He's very angry. He wants to kill someone. I . . . ." Harry stopped talking as Snape cried out and grabbed his arm where the Dark Mark was concealed.
"I have to go, Harry," Snape said quickly. "I will inform you of his temper when I return."
"NO!" Harry cried out suddenly. He grabbed Snape's robes and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around the older wizard's torso.
"He knows about you!" he pleaded desperately. "He's going to kill you this time!"
"I doubt that, Harry," Snape replied, attempting to remove Harry's arms from around him.
"You can't go!" Harry screamed, tightening his grip. "You can't leave me!" Harry illogically and incoherently sobbed into Snape's robes.
"I have to!" Snape snapped. He tore himself from Harry's grasp, clutching at his arm. He staggered from the room while Harry's crying echoed in his ears.
~*~*~*~*~
Hermione, Ron, and Draco found Harry curled up on his bed, shaking his head while tears flowed unchecked down his cheeks.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Where did Professor Snape go?"
"He's going to die!" Harry gulped between sobs. "Voldemort's called him, and he knows he's a spy!"
"You're underestimating Professor Snape," Draco said. "He'll convince the Dark Lord of his loyalties, and have a portkey handy, just in case. He'll be back, you just wait and see."
Harry eyed the Slytherin with some hope stirring in him. If any person knew Snape, it was his Draco. If Draco was that certain that Snape would return, he would believe it as well. After all, Draco had been raised by Voldemort's first lieutenant, and was probably plotting and planning before he could walk or talk properly.
"Lupin's making lunch, Harry," Ron said. "You should eat."
"Okay," Harry replied. He picked up the handkerchief, now stained with his blood. The freezing charm had dissapated.
"Sorry, Malfoy," he said. "I'll replace it."
"That's not necessary, Potter," Draco said smoothly, pocketing the now damp square of silk. "I've got dozens."
"Let's go eat, Harry," Hermione said. She waited until Harry rose from the bed to follow her.
Behind them, Ron caught Draco's sleeve as he turned to follow them.
"I want to talk to you, Malfoy," he said. "I thought you hated Harry. You don't hate him at all, do you?"
"What's it to you, Weasel?" Draco sneered.
"Harry's my best friend!" Ron snapped back. "He didn't care about my clothes, or my family being poor. He only saw me, and he accepted that! What do you want from Harry? Tell me, Malfoy! Now!"
Draco was speechless. He had no idea that Ron Weasley was capable of such depths. Still, his upbringing as a Malfoy and his years as a Slytherin came to his defense. "If you think I'm going to bare my soul to you, Weasley, you're wrong." he responded, his arrogance falling around him like a cloak. "Slytherins don't wear their hearts on their sleeves, especially around a Gryffindor."
"You like him, don't you?" Ron questioned, a sudden realization breaking through his mind. "You like Harry like I like Hermione. You're in love with him."
"What gives you that idea?" Draco mocked.
"You do!" Ron exclaimed, and then became serious. "You should tell him, Malfoy. I think he likes you, too. You don't know how much it would mean to him. If he knew someone thought as much of him as Hermione thinks of me, he'd be happier.
"I'll think about it," Draco said quietly. "It's not as simple for me as it is for you and Granger."
"You've already given up your family rights to come here," Ron said. "What have you got to lose?"
Draco shrugged, and then headed downstairs.
~*~*~*~*~
When Snape returned, somewhat the worse for wear, he found the rest of them in the parlor. Harry was prone on the sofa, Draco's handkerchief, the same one that had been pressed into service before, on his forehead. Draco was off to one side, his pale face anxious. Ron and Hermione were sitting nearby, their arms around one another, paler than Draco, if that was possible. Lupin was rapidly pacing along the carpet in front of the sofa.
"Professor!" Harry cried, leaping to his feet. The handkerchief fell to the floor while Harry crossed the room and threw his arms around Snape. Snape saw Draco twitch his wand and summon the square of silk to his hand. It was uncharacteristic for the young Malfoy to care so much about a ruined handkerchief that Snape made a mental note to talk to him later.
Awkwardly, Snape put his arms around Harry. The warmth of Harry's body was pleasant, and Snape felt his body respond in a completely inappropriate fashion, even after being subjected to the Cruciatus curse
"I am perfectly fine, Harry," he murmured. "I convinced the Dark Lord that I was pretending to spy for Albus. I was even able to hand him information that he was glad to have, even though it does him no good."
"What information?" Lupin asked, his eyes wide.
"I told him where Harry Potter is," Snape replied evenly.
"You WHAT?!" the exclamation came from Lupin and Ron at the same time.
"Why doesn't it do him any good?" Hermione asked. Snape attempted to disengage himself from Harry's grip, only partially succeeding. The partial success and the distraction of the question allowed him to regain control of himself, even though a part of his mind insisted on fantasizing on acting on it. . . .
"Because. . . Miss Granger," Snape responded stiffly. "Even knowing where he is, neither the Dark Lord nor any of his Death Eaters can get in. The Dark Lord has decided, on the advice of Lucius Malfoy, that I should in no way compromise the trust that the Order places in me."
"You were right, Malfoy," Harry said over his shoulder.
"I always am, Potter," Draco drawled. "I should have bet you."
"I'll start dinner," Lupin said, heading out of the room.
"Gods help us," Snape said. "We would not survive your cooking. I will cook dinner."
~*~*~*~*~
Late that night, when all four young people had fallen into a sated sleep after stuffing themselves on Beef Wellington and Yorkshire Pudding, Snape left his room quietly and slipped across the hall to Harry's room.
Once inside, he stood in the room, his eyes locked on the sleeping boy. He still remembered the feel of Harry's body, pressed into his own. He remembered how well Harry fit against him, just as well as Draco did. . . almost as if that were where he belonged.
Harry sensed a presence in the room and tightened his grip on his wand, hidden under the blanket. He opened his eyes just a bit, and was rewarded with the sight of Snape, shirtless, wearing that same look as earlier, his face set in a rictus of painful longing. Harry found that he now trusted Snape more than he ever thought possible. That conviction, coupled with the feelings he had been experiencing since last year, combined to remind Harry of how he had felt with Snape's arms around him. Ever since the loss of Sirius, he had felt bereft, and wanted noting more than someone to cling to . . . but now things seemed to be taking a far different path.
Harry watched the play of muscles on Snape's chest for a few moments. Like himself, Snape was not in possession of the large muscles that Ron was developing, but was slender and well-defined.
"Professor?" he said suddenly, breaking the silence. Snape jumped, and then had the good grace to look embarrassed.
"What do you want?" Harry asked, sitting up. He did not miss the way Snape's breath caught as the blanket dropped to his waist. He also most definitely noticed the bulge that made its appearance in the front of Snape's trousers.
Cautiously, Harry reached out and took Snape's hand in his. He was rewarded with a sound that was part gasp and part moan. Harry pulled gently, and Snape moved forward as if unable to resist. When his shins hit the bed, his knees buckled of their own accord and he ended up on one hand and knees, hovering over Harry, who had reclined backwards somewhat.
With a deep-throated groan, Snape lowered his lips to Harry's, stealing the young man's breath as he plundered the hot, sweet cavern thoroughly.
Harry allowed himself to be eased farther backwards into the bed as Snape's weight gently settled onto him. One of Snape's knees ended up between his thighs, snug against his rapidly rising erection. After a few moments, he began inexpertly to reciprocate the kiss. He sucked on the older man's tongue, slid his own past the other man's lips, and reached up to wrap his free arm around him, since the other was still firmly entwined in the older man's grasp.
Snape moved his mouth down Harry's jawline to the juncture of the younger man's neck, then licked his way up to Harry's ear, sucking the earlobe into his mouth and nibbling on it. Harry moaned his encouragement while he ran his hands over Snape's well-defined back. He could feel the Potions Master's hardness against his own thigh. Harry arched his body and pressed into the leg against his crotch, awash in feelings he had only imagined before. He wanted this more than he thought humanly possible, especially with his teacher. His body ached for something he had never experienced. Strangely, he wanted Snape to be the one to touch him and to . . . do whatever it was that would stop this longing inside him.
Harry's mind barely registered the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and knocking on his door. He paid little attention, considering the overload of sensation he was experiencing.
Both he and Snape were brought rudely back to reality by a repeat of the sharp knocking on the door, louder.
"Harry!" Lupin's voice intruded, sounding both hurried and concerned. "Dumbledore's here! Something's happened!"
"Coming!" Harry replied, clutching at the body above him as the older wizard tried to rise from the compromising position they were in.
"I'll get Professor Snape!" Harry called out finally, releasing Snape reluctantly and watching him attempt to compose himself. Lupin acknowledged Harry's statement with a low grunt and they heard his retreating footsteps.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it again when he noticed that his teacher had his 'public face' back in place. Without a word, the older wizard opened the door and crossed the hall to his own room.
~*~*~*~*~
When Harry reached the ground floor, he heard hysterical crying coming from the kitchen. He entered to find Hermione clinging to Molly Weasley while wrenching sobs wracked her body. Ron was crying quietly, and Draco looked scared, sad, and angry at the same time.
Around the kitchen were other members of the Order: Moody and Tonks occupied a corner, both tousled and soot-streaked. Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George sat at the table, all looking lost in the face of Hermione's grief. Dumbledore looked five times as old as usual and without his normally twinkling eyes. Kingsley Shacklebolt was nervously making tea. Professor McConagall was doing her best to help comfort the crying girl.
"What happened, Headmaster?" Harry asked, keeping his voice neutral. He had promised himself at the end of last school term that he would keep every person he cared about at arms length, or at least out of harm's way. Things didn't seem to be working out the way he had thought. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to reassure Hermione that whatever was wrong could be fixed.
"There has been another Death Eater attack," McConagall said. "We have just had to tell Miss Granger that her parents have been killed."
The sound of porcelain shattering drew Harry's attention to Kingsley, clutching the teapot to his chest, looking at the remains of several teacups around his feet.
"Shacklebolt!" Snape thundered from the doorway, his displeasure at such clumsiness evident in his stern face, and drawing his wand. "Stay still!" He performed several rapid incantations, which cleaned up the mess, repaired the cups, and delivered them and biscuits to the table. Another spell brought a small phial from a cupboard to Snape's outstretched hand. He dropped several drops of the contents into one cup, and then beckoned Kingsley over with the teapot. He filled the cup, added sugar, and then handed it to McConagall.
"See to it that she drinks this, Minerva," he said. McConagall nodded and turned back to Hermione.
~*~*~*~*~
An hour later, Hermione was asleep and in bed, with Molly watching over her. The others gathered in the kitchen to discuss matters.
"This is nothing more than an attempt to put you off-balance, Harry," Dumbledore said in a tired voice.
"That's not entirely true, Headmaster," Draco interjected. "The Dark Lord was a Slytherin, and Slytherins never do anything for just one reason."
"Then what do you think he wanted, Mr. Malfoy?" McConagall asked, her face serious.
"He's also looking for me," Draco replied cooly. "The last place that anyone would expect me to go is to Granger. On the other hand, she's my year-mate, and she's the best witch in school."
"Slytherin logic?" Harry inquired, a smirk on his face. Draco nodded, a matching smirk on his own lips.
"I would have to agree with Draco's assessment," Snape said. "He was, after all, raised by the Dark Lord's chief lieutenant."
"What's being done about where Hermione's going to live now?" Harry queried, concerned for his friend.
"I have taken the liberty of contacting her nearest relatives," McConagall replied. "They were willing, but not eager, to take responsibility for her, but they were more than happy to cede custody of her to me, once they truly understood the situation. They agreed that in these dark times, another witch would be far more able to protect her, and, by extension, them as well."
"Good," Harry said, glaring at Dumbledore in a fashion that would have terrified most wizards. He would never forget or forgive his mistreatment at the hands of the Dursleys, which would not have happened if he had been raised in a wizarding family. "Wizarding children do not belong with Muggles."
"I heartily agree," the older witch said. "Just so you know, Harry, I never thought you should be left with them. Albus had the authority, of course, but I did not agree."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. "Does this mean that Hermione stays here?"
"Yes, it does." She replied, smiling at him.
"Since everyone is awake," Snape said. "I will begin breakfast."
"I'll help, Professor," Draco said. "Just let me wash up and dress."
"Thank you, Draco," Snape said. "Harry, if you would care to assist as well, things should move smoothly."
"What about me?" Ron asked, his face tear-stained and pale.
Snape turned to and stared at him for a long time. "Perhaps making tea and setting the table will not be too much," he said in his best 'stern teacher' voice. "Since your potions skills are less than adequate, I will not count on your cooking abilities."
"Yes, Professor," Ron sighed, eyes downcast. Nonetheless, he followed Harry upstairs to dress for the day.
~*~*~*~*~
By afternoon, Hermione had awakened, eaten a small bit, and had been given more of the sleeping potion. She had been told about her new living arrangements and burst into tears when Draco gave her some flowers and told her he was sorry about her parents.
Harry was exhausted. The events of the day had taken their toll on everyone, and it showed. Draco had disappeared upstairs to take a nap. Ron had dozed off in the parlor before he had followed Draco. Even Snape had given notice that he intended to get a little sleep.
Heaving a huge sigh, the raven-haired youth climbed the stairs with every intention of sleeping a bit himself. A drawn-out groan from Snape's room stopped him in his tracks.
Suddenly concerned for the Potions Master's wellbeing, Harry cautiously opened the door a crack and stopped, staring.
Snape had thrown the bedcovers off and was steadily and unhurriedly stroking his erection. His breath hissed through his teeth as his hand moved, and his hips bucked in perfect timing with each stroke.
"Harry," he murmured brokenly, his eyes closed tightly. "Do you know how long I've wanted this? Do you know how I want you? Now I have you."
His hand increased its pace as he approached orgasm, and before Harry could move, Snape's eyes fluttered and opened. Green and ebony eyes met as the older wizard gave an even deeper groan and suddenly erupted, spurting semen all over his chest and stomach.
Nearly mesmerized by what he had just witnessed, Harry walked forward until he was beside the bed, within arms-reach of Snape. He cautiously reached out to touch the older man's softening shaft. His own erection was painfully hard within his clothing, and weeping enough to leave a noticeable wet spot.
Without a word, Snape reached for a cloth to clean himself, and then reached for the younger man. Both of them were so intent on each other that neither was aware that the door was left open. All that mattered was what they felt at that moment.
For his part, Harry offered no resistance as he was pulled over the other man's body and into the embrace of the large featherbed. He helped as much as he could while his professor made short work of buttons, buckles, laces, and zippers. In less time than he thought possible, Harry was completely nude, on his back, with his teacher above him, and hot, wet lips had wrapped around his painful hardness, drawing a sharp gasp, and then a moan out of him.
The emerald-eyed youth ran his hands through his lover's hair, realizing that the only thing making it greasy were the fumes from the cauldrons the man was constantly tending.
The young wizard could feel himself close to orgasm when gentle but firm fingers closed around the base of his shaft and squeezed, postponing the impending explosion. It was only then that Harry realized that his backside was slick and there was more than one intruding finger moving inside him and producing the most wonderful sensations he had ever imagined. The lips left him and trailed a path of kisses up his stomach and chest as the other occupant of the bed shifted around carefully moving forward until he completely covered his young lover.
The teenager whimpered in protest as the fingers withdrew, but allowed his legs to be raised and hooked around his lover's waist.
Snape captured his lips in a thorough kiss as something else probed at Harry's slickened entrance. Emerald eyes widened as he felt himself entered by something much larger than a few fingers. He braced for pain, but it never came. Snape paused every few moments to allow the slight burning sensation to die down, and then continued forward until he was fully sheathed inside the tight opening. Then, he lay still, allowing Harry to become accustomed to his invasion. He raised his head to watch his lover's face.
When he felt Harry relax under him, Snape gently withdrew, and then thrust in again, slowly but firmly, watching closely for any signs of pain. The expression of surprise and absolute bliss on the younger man's face reassured him somewhat, and his next stroke was quicker and surer. He was rewarded by a clenching of the muscles surrounding him, the feeling of the body under him rising to meet him, and a low moan of pleasure.
The sound made him forget his careful control, the three other teenagers in the house, the werewolf, and the ethics involved in bedding his student. He lowered his lips to Harry's again and began to steadily pump in and out of the willing body writhing beneath him.
~*~*~*~*~
Unknown to either Harry or his professor, they were being watched by a pair of silver eyes.
"You two take care of each other," Draco whispered to the silent hall as he watched his favorite teacher make love to the one person he loved beyond all others, except perhaps Severus.
"I don't know who I envy more."
TBC