Resort

Warnings: Rated adult for slash topics. Harry/Severus sexual situations. And a few bad words.

May seem confusing at first, bare with me. Setting in Seventh Year, after the war is over.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters or the Harry Potter world.

Harry resisted the urge to groan out loud, just barely. “No, thank you. The first seven were quite filling.”

“Ah, yes.” Albus Dumbledore acknowledged, puttering around the office. “I, myself, could never turn down a candy. So sweet and tasty. Why are you groaning, Harry? Are you in pain?”

Yes, pure mental anguish from having to sitting and listening to you prattle. “No Sir, simply clearing my throat.” Harry loved Dumbledore, as a mentor and in a way he probably would have loved his grandfather, had he known either one… But that didn’t mean he couldn’t find the bearded wizard wearing upon occasion. And this was one of those occasions.

Pre-graduation conferences. Dumbledore had set aside a full week to schedule talks with each student graduating from Hogwarts. Because of good fortune, otherwise known as Dumbledore’s meddling, Harry had been the last on the list.

Which was how he found himself sitting in Dumbledore’s office, just three weeks before the end of his final term at Hogwarts. Uncomfortably trying to get through this with some shred hope for the future. Which didn’t look likely.

Harry slid back in the chair, slouching, long, jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him. He leaned his head back, brushing his hair away from his face. A short while ago his hair had become long enough to be bothersome, reaching down around his chin. So he had taken muggle scissors to it himself, leaving him looking, as Hermione quaintly put it, as if the hair had been hacked off in a lawn mower accident. A phrase Ron couldn’t begin to comprehend. But it kept it just out of his eyes and off the back of his neck, so Harry was satisfied.

“You really have no plans.” Dumbledore began again.

Besides finding some nice, quiet place to hide? “No, no plans.”

“Well, goodness, what are you going to do with the rest of your life?”

Eat lemon drops? “I think that’s the principal problem. No one really anticipated I’d live long to have a rest of my life.”

“Nonsense. No one thought that.”

“Well, I certainly did.”

“Well, no one else did.”

Harry arched a dark eyebrow, and answered with complete confidence. “Everyone else did.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth, then closed it, taking a deep breath. “You are not here so we can argue. You are here so we can decide upon your next course of action.”

Harry slumped lower in his chair. Goody.

“Now, what do you want to do with the rest of your life?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nonsense you must know something.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You must.”

“I don’t.”

“You must!”

Harry’s pink lips twisted into a pleasant smirk. “I can do this all day.”

“Fine. What skills do you have? Experience?”

“Well, I’m pretty good at catching a snitch… And fighting off the Dark Arts.”

“Very well, I’m positive there are many things you can do with those skills.”

“I don’t want to do anything with those particular skills.”

“Excuse me?”

“I lost interest in Quidditch around third year. And I’ve had more than enough Dark Arts to last me a life time.”

“You’ve never had any sort of part-time or summer job.” It wasn’t a question, because both of them knew that between training and being locked up at Privet Drive, he hadn’t exactly had a lot of free time for jobs.

“Nope.”

Dumbledore eyed Harry sharply. “Are you not the less bit concerned about your future?”

Harry leaned forward with another groan, running his hand over his face. “You think I’m not concerned? I’m 17, almost 18, leaving school, with no where to go and nothing to do. I have no family, no workable skills, and all my friends and peers are moving on with their lives. Yes, I’m a touch concerned. But!” Harry continued on as Dumbledore opened his mouth to cut in. “I have a fair deal of my parents’ money left. And I’m very resourceful. I just need time to figure something out, experiment.”

“Harry, I don’t often say this to students,” Dumbledore began, moving back to his desk to stand in front of Harry. “But your life is a mess.”

“If had know that was the sort of thing one says in these conference I would have gladly volunteered to host them. For some reason I thought that they would nauseatingly supportive and encouraging. Glad to see I was wrong.”

Just when Harry thought this couldn’t possibly get any worse. Professor Snape.

“Severus.” Dumbledore nodded his head briefly.

“I do apologize for intruding Albus, but I’d thought I’d drop off those ingredient lists you’ve been asking for. I thought your conferences would be over by now.”

“That’s all right Severus. Harry is the last student I have to see. I will get back to you on those lists soon after I finish here, if you would place then on the table over there.” Dumbledore waved his hand to the far end of the room. “Now where were we Harry?”

“You were about to tell me just how messed up my life was, Sir.” Was it just him or did Snape just snicker? It didn’t appear Dumbledore heard anything…

“Yes well, perhaps I phrased that rather harshly. Harry you are one of the most talented, powerful wizards to come through this school in a long time. I just don’t see how we came to this point.”

“Might have something to do with the fact he was treated more as a weapon and less like a student during his time here.”

“Severus! That’s quite enough!” Dumbledore shook his head disapprovingly.

Harry glanced at Snape in surprise. Not many people were willing to face that truth.

“I’m just saying, Albus. You… all of us… trained him to fight. Remarkably well, in fact, but nothing beyond that. The boy doesn’t have a hope for a productive future… In less the world needs saving again. In which case, he’d be more than qualified.”

“That’s just not true.” Dumbledore sputtered.

Snape stopped in the doorway, in the middle of leaving, and turned back around. “Do by chance have Potter’s file?”

“Yes of course,” Dumbledore gestured to the desk in front of him. “Would you like to see them? Nothing but glowing recommendations, I assure you.”

“I don’t need to see them, I am well aware of Harry’s standing. And although he does have several glowing endorsements, his grades are rather dim. And in some cases, non existent.”

“Well, he had to give up some classes to train. And his grades are understandable low because his achieved them while fighting a war, Severus.” Dumbledore scolded. “People will look past that.”

“His grades are low because he does not know the material, Albus. And,” Snape looked at Harry for the first time since coming in, “that isn’t because he is dim witted.” Harry couldn’t belief Snape was standing up for him, complimenting him. Maybe he had miss-judged Snape all this time. “He’s not a genius by any stretch of the imagination,” Or not. “But he could have achieved adequate marks… Had you any of you anticipated or planned for a scenario in which he actually lived through the final battle. I shall talk to you later, about the supply lists.” With that he swept out of the office.

“Perhaps we should discuss this further at a later date, Harry. Give us both some time to compile possible courses of action.”

As much as Harry dreaded having to this all again, he couldn’t turn down the chance to escape. “Yes, sir. I’ll be sure to do that.” Harry slipped out of the chair and hurried for the staircase.

“Harry.”

Harry stopped at the door, turning his head to look back over his shoulder at the headmaster. Dumbledore was leaning against his desk, usually straight as an arrow shoulders bowed under some invisible weight, the wrinkles lining his face looking decidedly deeper than they did when their discussion started.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment, turning his body to face the headmaster, then softly, “For what?”

“If we really did let you down, let your future fall through the cracks, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t.” Harry left with those words hanging in the air. Both of them wondering if that was really the truth.

Harry hurried down the staircase, each step bringing him more relief. All he wanted now was to go find Hermione and Ron, get something to eat, and not think about his looming future. Halfway down the stairs his left foot came down on the laces of his other shoe, causing him to stumble and miss a stair, cracking his head against the wall and only avoiding sliding on his arse down the rest of the stairs because a tenuous grip on the railing. Merlin! Harry shifted to sit instead of sprawl on the step and careful ran his fingers over the back of his head. His skull throbbed angrily. Stupid shoes! He bent to tie the laces… only to find they were already tied tight. Oh great, first you have no future, then you start tripping over your own feet, brilliant.

He climbed to his feet and more cautiously descended the rest of the stairs.

Soon after stepping off the curving staircase and onto solid ground, he heard someone calling his name. Right, this day was just getting better.

“Malfoy, what do you want?”

Draco frowned, approaching from across the hallway where he had obviously been lurking.

“Were you waiting for me?” Harry questioned distractedly.

Draco’s chin length blond hair bobbed as he nodded. “Wanted to be here after you told Dumbledore all your grand post-graduation plans. Be the first to hear how bloody excitedly he must have been to hear them all.”

“Yeah, thanks, Malfoy.” Leave it to the snot-nosed Slytherin to rub in his face the fact he had no future to speak of. Forced to fight together against the Darkness, they had formed a very begrudging truce. Still neither one of them would hesitate to take a dig at the other given half the chance.

“So? Was he thrilled?”

Harry tried to brush him off, heading down the hallway without answering.

He didn’t give up that easily, matching his pace, Draco hurried after him, grabbing Harry’s upper arm to twist him around. “Well, was he? And why are you in such a rush?”

Harry stared down at the finger wrapped over his arm. “Get your hand off me. And yes, for your information Dumbledore was just tickled pink, that my life is one giant mess.” Harry responded sarcastically.

“A mess? Why, what’s happened?”

Malfoy sounding concerned about him? How rich.

“Like you care.”

A darker eyebrow lifted on Draco’s forehead, becoming partially obscured by his painstakingly styled-to-be-mussed platinum hair. “What’s got your knickers in a knot?”

“Why are you still talking, ferret-face?”

“Ferret what?” Draco squinted at him oddly. “Are you completely loopy?”

“Listen Malfoy,” Harry turned so they were both toe to toe. “I don’t know what game you’re playing but just get to the point, Hermione and Ron will be waiting, I’m late for dinner already.”

This seemed to miff the blond even more. “Those two? Waiting for what?”

“For me.” Clearly implied Duh.

Draco simply looked at him a moment, silver eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Right, ‘cause you three are just the best of friends.”

Harry just blinked at him, waiting for the point.

“Oh come on, Har.” Draco reached out and pushed Harry, lightly, almost playfully in the shoulder. Draco let his long, gracefully fingers rest at the edge of Harry skirt collar, tugging it lightly.

Harry swatted his hand away, “What are you doing?”

“Your collar was crooked. What do you think I was doing? Merlin, you’re wound so bloody tight tonight.” Draco hesitated, glancing up and down the empty hallway. “Everything all right, mate? I mean, you know you can tell me anything.”

Mate? Not that Harry believed the act for a second, but Draco was doing an amazing job of sounding sincere. Concerned even.

“Right, you’d be the first I’d come to.” Harry smirked. “Listen, I really have to go, they’ll be wondering where I am.”

“You’re really going to talk to the Know-It-All, and Weasely? What about Snape, weren’t you supposed to meet him at seven?”

“Snape?” How could he have forgotten something like that? Harry searched his mind for some reason the Potion’s Professor needed to see him.

“I have detention?”

A flicker of amusement crossed Draco’s face. “Sure if you want to call it that. A detention. At seven. I’d hurry if I were you. You know Snape hates to be keep waiting.”

“I don’t recall having to meet him.”

Draco huffed in frustration. “Look at your bloody watch if you don’t believe me.”

Harry slipped the small silver pocket watch from his jeans. Sure enough about half past ‘Meet with AD’ was ‘SS- Dungeons’. How could he have forgotten a detention…? He didn’t even recall getting in trouble.

“Harry, you don’t look right… Why don’t we – ”

“I’m fine Malfoy.” I’m just slowly losing my mind apparently. “Have to go.”

As he walked away from Draco a flash of silky red hair caught his attention a few meters ahead in the hall.

“Gin! Ginny wait up!”

Obviously not hearing him Ginny Weasely continued down the hall, quickening her pace.

“Hey!” Harry called after her, jogging to catch up. He reached her side and tweaked a lock of hair on one of her pigtails playfully. “ Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

The younger girl flinched and stiffened at his touch. She didn’t even bother to look up, staring at the ground and mumbling, “What do you want Harry Potter?”

Harry was a little taken aback by the frigid attitude, what was up with people today? “I was just looking for your brother, you don’t happening to know where I can find him, do you?”

The youngest Weasely glanced up at his words; lips pressed together, eyes flashing with reprehension. “Can’t you guys just leave him alone!”

“What? I just needed to tell him I have a detention with Snape, so I’ll be late for dinner. Ginny, is something wrong?” Harry lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, lowering his voicing compassionately.

Ginny shrugged him off. “Don’t touch me! Get lost, Potter!” With another heated glare the girl whipped down another passageway and out of sight.

Harry stared after her with a sigh. He would never, ever understand girls. Which was manageable because he had figured out early on that other males appealed to him much more than girls. But still, lack of sexual interest in them aside, girls could be very frustrating at times. He made a mental note to mention Ginny’s behavior to Ron when he saw him, just in case something really was bothering his sister.

From far a way the sounds of the school clock could be heard. 7 o’clock, didn’t Malfoy say that detention was for seven? Bloody hell, what luck, Snape was going to be furious. And even more furious if he realized Harry didn’t have even recall what the detention was for.

Hurrying down several passageways and just managing to catch the right flight of stairs before it shifted away, Harry made his way to the Potions lab.

Only to find it locked tight and no lights on inside.

Fuck, fuck, bloody fuck! The last thing he wanted to end this incredibly strange day with was to have Snape hex him to next Sunday and take away ever hard earned point the Gryffindors collected over the year. He had raced to get down here, can’t be more than, what, eight minutes late, ten max.

“Harry.”

With a small jump Harry turned, hearing his voice spoken in low, dark tones.

At first glance Snape didn’t look too upset. But Harry knew well enough that you could never tell Snape’s mood by his appearance. He never let his expressions reveal his thoughts, just another way to keep students off guard and add to their suffering.

“Professor Snape, sir. Sorry I was late… There was this thing… and then…” Come Harry, think. Plausible excuse, plausible excuse…“And well, sir, you know I was with Dumbledore…”

Something that would have passed as a curved smirk on anyone else’s face (but was the closest thing to a smile Harry had ever seen grace Snape’s lips) appeared. “Are you almost finish babbling inanely?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted grudgingly. “Quite finished, sir.”

Snape’s sculpted eyebrow lifted pointedly at Harry’s ‘Sir’. “Third ‘sir’ in as many sentences, my, but aren’t we being formal tonight… Mr. Potter.”

There was something off about Snape’s whole attitude, something Harry couldn’t quite put a finger on. He seemed too relax. That stiff edge was... well less sharp.

“Uh, yes Sir?” Harry didn’t know to make of this almost pleasant Snape. He didn’t want to be lured into some sort of false sense of security.

Snape nodded down the hallway, “My office, come.”

Harry trailed after Snape, hoping the older man wasn’t going to make him clean his office top to bottom, or some other equally odious task.

“Hey, Har.” “Harry! Professor.” “See you tonight, Harry.”

Harry frowned as a group of Slytherin passed them in the hallway, greeting him cheerfully and nodding politely to Snape. Slytherin, that normally would have sneered at him, or laughed maliciously about him having detention. Someone must have put something into the water down here. First Draco acting half-human, then Snape, now these others.

Snape stopped in front of a large rectangular portrait of a stately elderly man standing behind an ancient-looking lab bench littered with half full beakers and vials. “Hemlock.”

At the sound of the password, the portrait swung open and the man inclined his silver-haired head politely. “Harry, Severus, good evening.”

Harry gaped at it. “He knows my name.”

“Merlin, he should after all this time.”

Harry didn’t press the issue, he had never been to Snape’s private offices, but he supposed gossip about the Boy-Who-Lives-Still is passed along through all the painted people in this place, just as it seemed to do among the living people.

The door closed after them as they entered the room. It looked exactly like what it was, a dungeon room masquerading as an office. Thick bare rock walls and floors, a line of wooden cabinets, a bench for a desk, strew with papers, and three wooden chairs, one behind the desk, two angled in front.

Snape walked straight to one of the adjoining doors.

“Let’s go into my chambers.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “Your chambers, sir?” Belatedly Harry was glad his voice didn’t crack, or in some way betray the alarm he was beginning to feel.

“Sir again, is it?” Snape inquired. “Would you prefer we stayed in here?”

“I’d prefer to get on with the detention Si… uh, Professor Snape.”

“Dentition?” Harry could have sworn that was unexpected news for the professor.

“Yes, the dentition…the reason I’m here, Professor.”

That odd smirk/smile flickered onto Snape’s thin lips once again. “Are you not beginning to out grow that game?”

“Game, Sir? I’m here for detention.”

“Right, detention.” Snape retreated a few steps and propped one hip causally against the desk edge, folding his arms over his chest. “Have you been a naughty boy?” Snape inquired, letting his eyes roam, in a decidedly unseemly way over Harry’s robes.

Good God! This was a dream. It must be dream, Harry thought madly, because he had had this exact dream on several other occasions, right down to the dark, seductive tone Snape was using. Yes, a very real, very wrong dream.

“N…naughty?” Harry barely managed even that one word. Odd, in all his other dreams he was much more eloquent.

“Yes, have you been bad?” Snape continued, almost purring. “Do you need to be punished?”

Now this was the point when he usually work up, sweating slightly, heart racing, erection straining uncomfortably into his boxers. Why wasn’t he walking up?

Snape frowned lightly at Harry’s lack of response. “Why are you pinching the back of your hand like that?”

Harry dropped his arms to his sides quickly. “Nothing. No reason… What did you want me to do, Professor? Scrub the floor? Alphabetize your papers? Ah, uh, I could go scrub out all the laboratory sinks…” That last item being the most hated detention chore of all Potion students.

“Now, I think we can come up with a better punishment than those. After all this isn’t the first time you’ve been called in here…for detention.” Snape settled into his chair, his robes falling away to reveal a neatly pressed white shirt and black wool pants. Harry watched, paralyzed, as the professor deftly hooked his long fingers into his belt, slowly pulling it free of the belts loops. “Merlin, you look beautiful, brat.” Snape breathed, never taking his liquid coal eyes off the younger man, stroking his fingers up and down the length of the belt methodically. “You almost look as if you’re truly scared. You play the part of distressed school boy so well, wide-eyed and breathless."

Harry was indeed wide-eyed and breathless. He had never needed to remind himself to do simple things like inhale and blink his eyes before. And now faced with this situation apparently his body had decided there were more important matters to attend to; primarily pumping blood as fast and furiously as possible away from his brain.

“Come lie over my lap. It’s time for your punishment.” Snape curled one end of the belt around his hand, the other end slipping against his side.

“This isn’t right.” Harry whispered to himself, then louder. “Something’s very wrong here.” Fumbling under his robes, Harry slid his hand into one of his jeans’ back pockets, curling his fingers over the solid weight of his wand.

Snape blinked, frown lines marring his forehead. “What’s wrong? You don’t want the belt? I suppose I could use my hand. But I know how much you like the feel of leather against your skin.”

Harry took a few steps back. “You’re not yourself, Professor. I should go.”

“Go?” Snape questioned sharply. “You just got here. If you didn’t want to play, what was all that stuff about detention? You look upset, come here… I’ll make you feel better.”

With lightening quick reflexes honed by the prior need to defend his life on several occasions, Harry positioned his wand in front of him, between him and the other, powerful, wizard.

Harry cursed himself viciously when tremors in his hand forced him to shift his grip and hold the wand harder. He had grown strong enough to face Voldermort with out flinching, but Snape could make his wand quiver uncontrollably like an inexperienced boy (A.N.: Hee. Sorry I couldn’t resist).

“Harry?” Snape questioned, in soft, shocked tones. He began to slowly lift out of the chair.

“Don’t move.” Harry barked.

“Harry,” Snape started again, a touch of frustration in his voice. He stood from the chair to his full height, several inches taller than Harry. “Enough of these games. Now.”

Harry held his wand steady, pointed straight at the center of Snape’s chest. “I’m not playing games, Professor. Don’t make another move.”

“Harry stop it, this instant! You’re hurting your hand.”

Feeling a slight burn in his hand Harry spared a glance down at it. His fingers were wrapped so tightly over the thin stick that his nails cut into his palms. Small beads of blood rolled down the heel of his hand and dripped to the floor.

Snape made a movement, reaching rapidly for his own wand. Without needing to think, Harry’s body reacted. “Exasillis.”

A steady spark of power flew the distance between Harry’s wand and Snape’s hand. Sending Snape’s wand clattering to the floor and scorning a line of skin over the top of the older man’s hand.

“I told you not to move.” Harry gritted between his teeth. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

Snape flexed his hand; the only sign of his pain was in the tightening of his jaw and the first initial flare in his eyes, quickly masked. “I was only reaching my wand so I could heal your hand. What has gotten into you?”

“It’s not me. It’s you…and Malfoy, I think.”

Snape’s eyes gleamed with something dark and violent. “What, pray tell, does Draco have to do with this?”

Was that jealousy? Did the potion professor just sound jealous? Of him and Malfoy? Harry tried to get used to the idea that he just wasn’t going to be able to understand any of this. He needed back up. He needed his friends. People he could trust.

With one last look into Snape’s turbulent eyes, Harry disappeared from the room.

He reapparated outside the dinning hall, still shaken. Curious eyes watching him the whole time, he hurried over the Gryffindor tables. Ron was sitting with Neville and Hermione was all the way at the other end of the room, eating alone.

Harry came up behind Ron and grabbed him by the shoulder. “I need to talk to you, now, follow me.”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything!” Ron exclaimed, exchanging panicked looks with Neville. “If you’re angry about the grease on the broom closet, that was Dean and Seamus, not me.”

“Grease on the what? Never mind. This is important, Ron.” Harry dragged a very reluctant Ron after him towards Hermione.

“Hermione!”

She jumped at the sound of her voice. Hunched over with her hair dangling in her face she looked around, sinking lower in her seat seeing the two boys approaching.

“Hermione, come on. We need to talk.”

“Me? You want to talk to me?” She squeaked.

Harry frowned at her. Not Hermione, too? “Yes, come quick.”

She shook her head quickly, “No, I shouldn’t…”

“Mione, please! Something is wrong.”

“It’s not something we could get in trouble for is it?”

“What? No! This is serious.”

Hermione looked up at him, her brown eyes searching his silently. “O…Okay.” Collecting a large pile of books from the table Hermione got up. “This better not take long, I have to study.”

Harry led them out the door and into one of the many alcoves between the dinning hall and the main entrance.

Ron stopped in his tracks, digging in his heels. “Now, what’s all this about?”

Harry lowered his voice conspiratorially. “It all started after I left Dumbledore’s office. Which, by the way, was an utter disaster. Malfoy was waiting for me, and he acted all interested in my life, asking questions and pretending to be concerned.”

“Well, he is your best friend.” Hermione pointed out slowly after a short silence, brown eyebrows pulled together with a frown.

Harry laughed out loud, shaking his head lightly. “Right, we’re real close.”

Hermione and Ron simply looked at him in silence.

Harry’s laughter faded, “Come on guys, don’t you think it’s the less bit strange? I mean Malfoy...”

Ron cut him off, dull flags of red coloured his cheeks. “Listen Potter, I don’t what you are trying to do,” Ron lifted his hands in a irritated gesture, “But I’m not going to a part of it.”

“Crazy. Everyone has gone stark, raving mad!” Harry breathed, then out loud, “Wait! There’s more. I went down to the dungeons, because I had a detention with Snape. But he was different too. Snape tried to come on to me… That is he…he seemed to think I went down there to... He took off his belt…”

“Professor Snape?” Hermione’s obvious shock and worry clashed with embarrassment as she lowered her voice softly, flushing. “Did he - ? I mean, are you - ? Okay?”

Harry matched her flush, looking away to wring his hands together. “No, he didn’t do anything, I’m fine. Just stunned, you know?”

“How do we know he’s telling the truth?” Ron broke in, looking only at Hermione.

She gasped in disapproval, “Ron!”

“What? You can’t be so bloody naïve you didn’t think of that.” Ron accused.

“Why would I lie about something like that?” Harry asked in exasperation.

“Because you’re trying to make the two of us look like idiots.” Ron spat righteously.

“Well I’m not! I would never do that!”

“Then why are you telling us about this thing with Snape? The two of us out of everyone in the school?”

“I can’t believe you’re asking me that question!” Harry was practically yelling now, frustration and confusion growing twofold, “Who else would a tell this to? Ginny? Neville? Oh I know, frigging Draco Malfoy!”

“What about Dumbledore, Harry?” Hermione spoke quietly, “I mean if what you said really did happening, the Headmaster should know about it.”

“He already knows.”

The low unexpected voice made all three of them jump.

“Malfoy!” Harry cried. “What are you doing here?”

Draco took few steps out of the shadows by the entranceway, eyeing the trio skeptically. “What am I doing here? You go running through the dinning hall, drag these two out with you, and you were acting weird earlier, of course I followed you here.”

“See, I told you this was all some draft Slytherin joke.” Ron accused.

Harry dragged a hand through his hair, “This isn’t a joke, something really wrong is going on here. And it’s not just Snape, you guys have been affected too, you’re all acting freakish.”

Hermione looked unconvinced and more than a little lost. “What did you mean when you said Dumbledore already knows, Draco? Has Snape done this to other students?”

“What? No. NO!” Draco sputtered at that absurd thought. “Only Harry.”

“He’s done this before? How long has this been going on?”

“It hasn’t!” Harry burst out desperately, “this was the first time.”

Draco looked at him is disbelief, scoffing. “Yeah, right.”

Harry’s head was really beginning to hurt, a dull, frustrating throb. He turned to he friends beseechingly. “Why would I lie to you?”

Hermione didn’t answer that question, instead going back to Draco’s words. “If Dumbledore knew, why didn’t he do anything?”

“You high and mighty Gryffindors may not acknowledge it, but Severus Snape is a blood great professor not to mention an exceptional head of house. Dumbledore wasn’t about to let him for no good reason.”

“Dumbledore was willing to look the other way while a student was… was molested?” Hermione gasped with suspicion.

“Molested?” Draco cried out, his silver eyes blazing. “Harry was never molested.”

All eyes shifted to the boy in question.

“Well, he never really touched me… I mean I…” Harry fumbled over the awkward explanation. “But he was clearly coming on to me, I mean the things he said! About leather…and stuff.” He finished lamely.

“Harry!” Draco snapped in warning. “You don’t want to be saying this stuff in front of them.” He gave a quick flick of his hand towards Hermione and Ron, then lowered his voice. “Why don’t we go back to the dormitories… Or to the dungeons…?”

“What? No!” Harry exclaimed. “Why don’t you just get lost, Malfoy?”

Hermione looked between the two boys. “Maybe we should leave, Ron?”

Ron, who had been staring at Harry and Draco too, nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay, let’s go.”

“Wait!” Harry cried. “Where are you guys going?”

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, “Back to dinner?”

“Back to dinner? I’m telling you something is horribly wrong here, and you’re going back to dinner?” Harry answered frantically.

Hermione frowned slightly. “Maybe he is telling the truth…”

Ron seemed to consider this for a moment, then answered reluctantly, “Maybe.”

Draco stepped up, moving behind Harry, looking over his head at Hermione and Ron. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it, I’ll take him to see Snape.”

“What?” Harry repeated, for what must have been the millionth time this night. “I’m not going down there again… Not after what just happened. And certainly not with you.”

Draco reacted as if he had been slapped. “You don’t trust me? Me?”

“When have I ever, ever trusted you?”

“How about the last seven years of your life for a start.”

Harry backed up a few steps. “Why are you telling such ludicrous lies!”

“Lies? You’re the one telling lies.”

“I am not!” Harry persisted.

“No? What was all that about Professor Snape molesting you?” Draco countered, angrily.

“That was the truth! He said this stuff about being with me… and practically through himself at me…”

“Which is understandable because you two have been together since the start of the year!”

“Been together?” Harry burst out.

“Had a relationship, shagged, been lovers? What shall I call it, Harry? Only last night you were talking about marriage!” Draco questioned with hostility.

“Snape and I? Ridiculous.” Harry defended.

Draco tossed his hands into the air, fed up. “Rubbish! You wear his bloody family ring.”

“His ring? Snape’s ring?” Harry forced an incredulous laugh, holding his bare hands out. “Do you see any ring! Of course not.”

Draco batted Harry hands down. Tearing at the top of Harry’s robe with such force that the top button sailed across the room, Draco parted the material then used his other hand to pull down on the dark green sweater vest covering Harry’s chest. “His fucking ring.”

Under his vest, on a short gold chain, heavy around his throat, hung a thick gold ring. It was a plain, smooth band, with no gems in it but the front was stamped with two snakes curled against each other forming two clear S’s.

Harry looked up at his friends wildly. “I swear I don’t know where that came from. It’s not mine!” Harry fumbled with the chain unfastening it, and flinging it away from himself as if it burned. The ring and chain hit the far wall with a soft metallic click and dropped into a heap on the ground.

The three others watched his actions wide-eyed.

Ron broke the silence. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but I don’t what any part of it.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth, speechless. “Ron, we have to figure out what’s going on here. What if something dangerous is happening?”

“If it has to do with you, Malfoy, and Snape, I don’t see how it’s any of my concern.”

“No, that’s right,” Harry accused sarcastically, “you’re only my best friend.”

“Uhh?” Ron questioned. “We aren’t even acquaintances, let alone best friends.”

“We’ve been best friends for seven years now,” Harry yelled. “Ever since we shared a coach compartment on the Express.” He looked pleadingly at Hermione. “All three of us.”

There was a stunned silence.

“Harry?” Hermione finally spoke up, slow and steady, stressing each word. “We did share a train car, out first time to Hogwarts… But we didn’t talk much after that. Not after you were sorted into Slytherin and we became a part of Gryffindor.”

“Slytherin! I was sorted in Gryffindor, with you and Ron. What are you talking about?”

“He’s bonkers.” Ron whispered, more than loud enough for all of them to hear.

“Weasley, shut up.” Draco snapped. “Harry, maybe I’d better take you to the hospital wing?”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital, there’s nothing wrong with me.” The argument sounded weak even to his own ears. There was something wrong. Something horribly wrong and he was beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t just them.

Author’s Note: As some of you may have noticed, and some of you have kindly pointed my grammar could benefit greatly from someone else checking it over. I’ve never had an editor (beta) before, but if someone was willing to offer to be a second set of eyes on my stories, including the Gifts series, which is sadly still only half finished, I’d be grateful. It’s not a big job just reading over my new chapters and maybe giving me an occasional kick in the behind, or just to sound off new ideas with. E-mail me.