Written for SNARRY-A-THON10 on the snape_potter community on ij/lj/dw
Title: In the Blink of a Purple Eye
Author: Ari aka kayakaari aka CarlisleAliceJazzCullen!
Rating: T
Word count: 5,789
Prompt: 197 - Severus Snape is an Incubus but is trying to deny his inheritance by casting ugly glamours on himself so no one will find him attractive. Unfortunately for him, his destined mate can see through it once they reach sexual maturity. Harry doesn't understand why in his sixth year, Severus Snape looks like the epitome of every wet dream he's ever had. Snape is sex on legs and Harry is determined to get his man.
Summary: The new professor at Hogwarts is tall, dark and handsome. Who is this mysterious man with the purple eyes? (eighth year fic)

In the Blink of a Purple Eye

Severus Snape stood in his bathroom staring at his reflection in the mirror. His thick luxurious shoulder length hair contrasted beautifully with clear, flawlessly even pale skin which gave him a youthful appearance. Not that he was old but the thirty-eight year old looked closer to seventeen and would most likely keep looking that age for the next decade. He frowned thin supple cherry red lips and leaned closer to the mirror, examining the hairless chiselled jaw. They say the grass is always greener on the other side and he supposed it was true. He longed to shave or show other signs of ageing; in his mind it reflected a certain wisdom and maturity. Instead he continued to look like the dunderheads he taught- no, worse, many of them now sported facial hair- even Potter. He scowled at his reflection and a sensuous looking pout stared back. He scowled even further- he couldn't even scowl properly with this face. Instead of looking fearsome and daunting, he looked flirtatious; instead of scaring the viewer with a 'stay-away' sneer, he sent out a 'come-hither' vibe.

Looking into the inhuman eyes, a shade of violet so dark they sometimes appeared black, he narrowed his eyes in focus. Not a single long eyelash was out of line, not a hair in need of plucking in the strong sculpted eyebrows. Beginning to bemoan this additional human feature he did not possess, he paused. Did he really want eyebrows as bushy as Albus'? No, perhaps not. He'd accept the eyebrows.

Sighing, his eyes crossed as he stared down the elegant aquiline nose. On this face it was more flattering and complementary, perhaps because this face was wider, its jaw stronger and, ok, fine, this nose wasn't hooked or beak-like.

"Stop staring at yourself, Severus," he chided as he restored his glamour with a wave of his hand. The healthy hair looked lank and greasy, the aquiline nose flared and looked hooked, milky white skin looked sallow, even white teeth became crooked and yellowing and inhuman violet eyes looked unnaturally black and fathomless. Trying again as he'd done at least once a year for two decades, he attempted to create a hint of facial hair but nothing appeared. He could fool the eye into seeing ugly versions of the features that existed but he couldn't create features that were not there. Scowling in frustration and only slightly appeased that this scowl, at least, was unattractive, he added some bags under his eyes and made the teeth a shade yellower.

He took a step back and admired his handiwork from the sides. He cocked one eyebrow and lowered it, he cocked the other eyebrow and lowered it too. He grimaced and scowled, bared his teeth and pursed his lips.

"Oh for crying out loud! Enough already, man. You're hideous and scary and unapproachable. Go! Go and scare the world. Deny mankind your beauty, see if I care!" the mirror groused.

"Ah, still there then, Millie?" Severus smirked as he left his chambers, the genuine amusement making even this ugly face attractive. Mildred was a spirit of the mirror who resided in Hogwarts Castle. She had been brought there by the first Prince to attend the school and had remained there ever since serving the heirs to the illustrious family.

The Prince family descended from an Incubus princess from the Never-Never Land. Princess Mairin had escaped from the Never-Never Land at eight years old because she didn't want to be a minor wife to her old uncle, the king. Fleeing to the mortal realm, she used her seductive powers to convince an aristocratic Muggle family called the Princes to adopt her. The transfer to this reality had given her magical abilities similar to those of wizards and witches and eventually her Hogwarts letter had arrived. Her adoptive family had been only too happy to send her away because, while they had to adore her while under her spell, they were in fact afraid of the little girl who made strange things happen. She married a wizard and manipulated him into taking her name.

No one knew whether there was a curse on the family or not but his mother told him that she believed that there had been one. For ten generations, Mairin's descendants had been girls and each woman had only one child. Each girl grew increasingly unattractive and sullen and lost a bit more of their seductive powers. As a child, Eileen had been obsessed with her family history. She came to the conclusion that there was a curse that could only be broken by marrying only if she was asked. She took 'sullen and unapproachable' to a new level and even invented a potion which dulled her magnetism. When Tobias Snape asked her to marry him, she felt compelled to accept, believing that her sacrifice would break the curse. And it clearly worked.

When Severus Snape was born a boy, Eileen was extremely grateful and would put up with her husband's abuse. As her son grew, eyebrows were raised everywhere they went. The child was as beautiful as his parents were ugly, as cheerful as they were gloomy and as charismatic as they were forgettable. Tobias was suspicious of his paternity and Eileen felt pressured to brew her potion once more. She also gradually added glamours to make the child look more like his father which she eventually taught him when his Hogwarts letter arrived. To her dying day she would mourn the fact that her son had grown to despise his beauty, considering it an abomination that needed to be hidden.

Professor Snape, world renown Potions Master, Head of Slytherin, Deputy Headmaster, Order of Merlin first class, celebrated war hero and star of his students nightmares stood at the Headmistress' side on the first day of school. As Headmistress McGonagall made her speech, the ugly git looked imperiously down his hooked nose at the returning students, in particular the surviving 7th year students. A more mature but still narcissistic Draco Malfoy sat at the sparsely populated Slytherin table, his chest puffed to show off the Head Boy badge he sported. The Golden Trio were also time worn, Head Girl Granger sat primly with her boy friend Prefect Weasley while The Saviour, Harry Potter appeared to be trying to crawl under the table, away from the fawning eyes. Snape still didn't like the brat but after working with the boy and Albus' ghost so closely last term to rid the world of the Dark Lord in one final anti-climatic battle, not even he could continue to delude himself that this hero enjoyed the praise.

Feeling the intense stare boring through his floppy wild hair, Harry looked up. Standing near to McGonagall must be the new DADA professor. The man was tall and handsome with finely chiselled features, luscious lips and a serene countenance. Harry offered a weak smile to the gorgeous man who was clearly staring at THE Harry Potter. He only hoped the man was neither a sycophant nor an incompetent twit like Lockhart. He had been offered a free N.E.W.T. in DADA as a result of his work in destroying Voldemort and had been ignoring Hermione's insistence that he still take the course but now he was reconsidering. Even if the man was incompetent, he'd be a sight for sore eyes and provide wanking material for sleepless nights.

"Neville," he whispered to his friend not taking his eyes off the handsome man. "Who's that standing next to McGonagall?"

Neville looked up at Snape and back at Harry before looking up at Snape and back at Harry again. "S-Snape?"

"Snape?" Harry asked incredulously. "Why would I ask you who Snape is, Nev? I mean the other guy."

Neville looked at the empty space beside McGonagall and frowned. He didn't see anyone other than the greasy git. "Um..."

He didn't get a chance to ask someone else as the sexy man left the room. He was a little disappointed when the only other person to enter the room that night was Snape leading some very terrified looking first years. He snorted. He didn't know whose idea it was to let the overgrown bat greet the poor students. He wouldn't be surprised if this group had a slower rate of adjusting to life at Hogwarts than previous generations. If Snape had been his introduction to the school, he wasn't too sure that returning to the Dursleys might have seemed quite as bad. OK, OK, so perhaps Snape wasn't quite so bad. When Albus had died during the first term of last year making them vow on his deathbed that they would continue to work together, he hadn't expected to grow to respect the dour man. By the time the headmaster's spectre had shown up to assist them by spying on old Voldie, the two men had already worked out their issues and had the scars to prove it. Although through the wonders of magic those scars had long since faded, as had the former headmaster once his job had been done, Harry and Snape had remained friends... no, friendly acquaintances... indifferently polite?

His mind still distracted, Harry went to his private room in the tower. The accommodation for eighth years had individual bedrooms sharing jack and jill bathrooms and shared common areas – a small sitting room and eat-in kitchenette while Hermione as Head Girl had an entire flat to herself. It was only as the mystery man brought him to a climax in his dreams that he realized that he still didn't know the man's name.

"So Harry," Hermione smiled benevolently at him. Nothing good could come from that look. "It's our last year here."

He raised an eyebrow in a look Snape would be envious of.

"The war's over now, thank goodness," her smile seemed even scarier.

"Yes. It is. So?" he asked hesitantly.

"So mate," Ron chipped in, his wince suggesting he'd been given some motivation to do so under the table. "It means that you can feel free to date now, yeah?"

Harry tensed, sparing Ginny a quick glance. "Ron, please, not this again. I'm gay and Ginny loves Dean."

"How do you know you're gay when you've never even snogged a bloke," Ron hissed. "You'd be better for, ow! Mione!"

"What Ron meant," her voice dared his pouting boyfriend to contradict her, "is that now that the war is over, you can date. Is there anyone who catches your fancy?"

"Oh," Harry blushed. "Um..." As he weighed his options, trying to find someone, preferably someone unattainable, to appoint as his love interest, he was distracted by the god at the head table who was looking at him. Holy smoking Merlin, it was Professor Sexy himself. Harry felt himself harden as he watched the man bite into a banana. His eyes latched on to the fruit as it was surrounded by cherry red lips. He almost came on the spot when the man licked his lips. He heard himself whimper.

"Harry! Harry, are you okay?" Hermione was whispering urgently, waving a hand in front of his eyes. He blinked and turned to her. "You were moaning and panting," she blushed.

"While looking at the teachers," Ron looked green.

"It's that new DADA teacher," Harry gushed. "I didn't get his name yesterday but cor, isn't he a looker!"

Hermione and Ron exchanged worried looks. It wasn't that they didn't agree that Professor Lupin was a handsome man but only yesterday on the train Harry had been saying just how happy he was that once the married man had officially offered to be his honorary godfather, he'd been allowed to spend the summer in the Lupin household. Harry hadn't come to the Burrow at all this summer, insisting that he wanted to stay and babysit his godson and help his family renovate No 12 Grimmauld Place which was Harry's inheritance and Tonks' ancestral home. Now they were wondering what really happened this summer. Had Harry developed an unhealthy crush?

"Um, Harry," Hermione looked at him sympathetically. "I'm happy that you and Professor Lupin-"

"Remus is the new DADA professor!" Harry exclaimed, shocked that he could have forgotten that when he'd been there with the Headmistress when she warned Snape and again when she asked Lupin to come back to the school. How could he have forgotten when he'd argued with Snape on the topic, even going so far as to demand that the man teach him how to make the Wolfsbane if he wouldn't do it himself.

He looked up at the head table to the mystery man but he was gone. The greasy git himself now sullied the area. Not noticing that Neville had now joined Ron and Hermione with the worried look sharing, he continued, "So then, who's the hot new guy?"

"You see?" Longbottom shook his head sadly.

"Mate, erm, what new guy?" Ron tried for neutral but ended up looking constipated.

"He's gone now," Harry sighed. Why hadn't anyone else noticed this guy? How could they not? "It's that new professor, tall, dark and handsome," he winked at Neville. Chuckling as the no longer quite so shy boy blushed, he whined, "I guess he isn't teaching me at all this year."

Snape sat at the table looking down at the students. His mate was here. Two decades ago when he'd met the Dark Lord and the man had been able to see through his glamour, he'd imagined that he was his mate. He was quickly disabused of that opinion though when he realized that the man was more interested in using him than in being seduced by him. Years before that he'd imagined that the little red-headed girl he'd befriended back in Spinner's End was his mate but Lily made him realize that he was definitely gay. He had all but given up expecting to find his mate until last night.

He hadn't felt it at first but as he walked the first years through the Great Hall to be sorted, he'd sensed the presence of his mate. Although he hadn't sensed anything from the returning students before he went to the first years nor when he met the new students, this time he knew instinctively that his mate was around. There was an indefinable scent in the air which tantalized his nose, a ripple of magical aura which titillated his skin and, every once in a while, he heard a voice which mesmerized him. Mairin had appeared to him in a dream when on his 11th birthday and told him that he'd meet his mate at Hogwarts but he never felt any extra attraction to his peers. Years later when he joined the staff she had invaded his dreams again to repeat her prediction. Every year since then he spent the Sorting Ceremony trying to identify the person. He felt confident that if he didn't like his mate he could choose to ignore him or her and they would be none the wiser. He faithfully maintained his glamour for just such a reason. He had improved on his mother's potion so well that it not only suppressed others attraction to him but also his sexual appetite so he wasn't worried about sexually attacking some eleven year old. Still, even if he chose to not to accept his mate, he felt it was his duty to make sure that whoever he, or, Merlin forbid, she, did not end up as useless as the rest of the students. It was bad enough his mate wasn't a Slytherin- he'd invented a new tradition of speaking to them each individually this year but their voices sounded ordinary and they smelled of fear.

Hearing the alluring voice again, he looked around the room in irritation. How was he to find his man when they were all talking! Focus, Severus! Focus and discipline. You must go about this in a precise and systematic manner.

He began at the Hufflepuff table. Best to get them out of the way. There were fourteen of them this year, the most of any house. He snorted. It was a good thing the war was over because clearly the wizarding world was not being populated by warriors. He went through the nine girls first. He wasn't sure what he was hoping to see but he didn't see it. None of these were his mate. Close review of the boys led him to conclude the same.

Gryffindors next. If his mate wasn't Slytherin, then hopefully at least he... or she, would be Ravenclaw. There were nine new lions. He looked at the five girls and four boys and still didn't see whatever it was that he hoped to find. Continuing the search with the Ravenclaws, he turned up nil. Frustrated he finished his breakfast and gathered the scrolls with students' timetables. As always he handed his head prefect the schedules for the first through fourth year students. The seventh and eighth years approached him first. He smiled. His snakes may be diminished in number but they still remembered the rules. He spoke to them about their N.E.W.T.s course load and assigned them into study groups. Instead of the usual strongest seventh year in each subject leading the study group for that subject, he merely created two groups of four.

Unexpectedly the scent and magical aura of his mate brushed closely behind him. Turning swiftly, he saw only the Golden Trio, Longbottom, Lovegood, the Weasley girl and her boyfriend and the hapless Irish lad. Severus stared, bewildered. Please, no, it couldn't be. None of those eight would be forgivable. Signalling to his fifth years to follow him, he set out after the group which had already gone through the doors. As he hoped, they stood outside the Great Hall comparing schedules and chatting. He was relieved to see two first year boys standing near to them. While it was true that he hadn't noticed the younger students inside, he hoped it was only because they were so small that they'd been hidden. As he approached the two boys, the Golden Trio and Longbottom turned to him warily. He sneered at them.

"What are your names?" he asked his two potential mates. He couldn't tell which one it was but his senses were on high alert.

"David Howard, sir," the chubby blond boy simpered.

"Edward Bridges," drooled his handsome brunette peer.

Severus blinked. He looked around. All around, students and staff alike were staring at him. He racked his brain trying to remember whether he'd taken his potion but he knew he had. Yet it was only too obvious that the Incubus within him was sending out its allure.

"Severus, may I have a word?" Professor McGonagall pursed her lips but even her eyes seemed a little glazed.

Snape fumed as he walked through the halls. Minerva and Albus' portrait had spent the better part of the last half an hour forcing him to confess that he'd found his mate and extracting promises from him that he would not do anything inappropriate with Howard or Bridges. He was insulted and hurt. It was always something. First everyone hated him because they thought he was the bad guy when he was really a spy on their side and now that he was a respected hero, he was being treated like a child molester. And this from people who made a werewolf a Professor and Head of House!

"Good morning, Professor," his first year class chorused. He made his usual speech, fully expecting it to fall on deaf ears. He had promised Albus, Minerva and Potter that he would be less hostile towards Gryffindors this year and he supposed it would be easy enough to do so if he didn't want to chase away his mate.

"Howard, you sit over there and Bridges, I want you up here," he seated them at opposite ends of the Gryffindor side of the room.

He walked around Howard and felt nothing. He spoke to the boy again and heard nothing. In fact the boy had a rather annoying voice. Relieved, he approached his mate. Smiling at the terrified looking boy, he didn't realize what a truly horrific image his attempt at seduction looked with his glamoured face.

"Mr. Bridges," he purred, "I do hope you are going to be one of my better students." The boy nodded dumbly. Struggling not to snap at the stupid child, he instead leaned over the spiky head and inhaled deeply. There was a pleasant enough aroma of peppermint and tea tree oil, ginseng root and rosemary; enticing but not correct.

Confused and disappointed, he returned the front of the class and assigned reading in order to give himself some time to think. If it wasn't these two it had to be one of the Golden Trio or Longbottom but that made absolutely no sense. His mother had suggested to him that there was a possibility that he would not recognize his mate until they were sexually mature, usually around fifteen for wizards and sixteen for witches. The eighth years had surely achieved sexual maturity long before this year and yet he'd never sensed his mate among them before. Weasley and Granger were lovers over a year now and everyone knew how promiscuous Potter was. Snape groaned. That left only Longbottom. Circe!

Harry and Neville made their way towards the library after Charms.

"Holy sex on two legs," Harry groaned. "Neville, there he is! That man has been starring in my dreams every single night since term started."

Neville's eyes widened. The only person approaching them was Snape is all his bat-like glory.

"Do you see the way his robes flutter behind him like a superhero's cape? Crikey, it makes me want to come in my pants! Quick, how do I look?" he attempted in vain to tame his hair and straighten his clothes.

"G-good, Harry," Neville looked extremely worried. He stared at and around Snape, hoping desperately to see what Harry was seeing.

Snape held his breath. Potter and his mate were walking his way. Longbottom. Merlin's balls in a cauldron. Somebody had a twisted sense of humour.

"Potter, Longbottom," he greeted, battling the Incubus in himself.

"H-hello, Professor," Neville smiled shyly, his eyes glazed over. The taller Gryffindor brushed a hand through his hair and drew up to his full height, preening like a peacock. "Congratulations on the Order of Merlin, sir." Harry stared at his friend with a mixture of shock and jealous anger. Only a moment ago the boy had been pretending not to know the man yet now here he was clearly flirting! "It was a first class, wasn't it, sir?" he purred, stepping closer and licking his lips.

Shouldering Neville aside as subtly as he could, Harry turned to the sexy man, "An Order of Merlin, sir? Very impressive. May I ask what you did to earn that?"

Snape was furious. What did Potter mean by that? Before he could tell the impertinent brat off, his mate defended him, "Really Harry, how could you not know? The man is a well respected hero!" he turned back to Snape, edging closer. "So smart, so brave, so-"


"-and hot!" two sixth year Ravenclaws gushed. Uh-oh, the Incubus' allure was on again.

Hermione comforted Neville for the third time that week. Harry was accusing their loyal friend of ridiculous things and she wasn't sure if Neville was more upset at being accused of flirting with Snape or of betraying Harry. Something very strange was happening between her friend and Snape. He had taken to staring at the man and, to Neville's horror, Snape at taken to smiling at him, which only made Harry angrier. Yet in spite of Harry's new obsession with Snape, it was an unsettlingly inconsistent thing. He could go from staring at the man with lust filled eyes to sulking about the greasy git in the blink of an eye. She was convinced that it had something to do with the Half-Blood Prince but she couldn't be sure what.

Hermione Granger wasn't a Gryffindor, Head Girl and War Hero for nothing. Talking to Harry was useless so she would talk to Snape.

"Hello Professor," she said, entering the Potions Master's office.

"Miss Granger," he motioned to the seat across his desk. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"Sir, it's about Harry and Neville and... well, you, sir. Or maybe the Half-Blood Prince?" Snape frowned and signalled for her to continue. "Since the term has begun, Harry has been acting... weird. He sometimes looks at you and seems to see someone else. In fact, he's convinced that this you is a different professor. He thinks you look different."

"Different how?"

Hermione hesitated. She couldn't exactly tell Snape that Harry thought he looked less like a swooping bat and more like a gallant Lockhart or that he appeared handsome instead of like an ugly greasy git.

"Well, sir, um, he thinks you..."

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Eyes, sir, eyes!" she practically bounced in her chair.

"He thinks I have... eyes," Snape jeered. "Well, that's a good thing, I suppose. I can't see why this has anything to do with you or Neville."

"No sir, that's not what I meant," Hermione blushed. "He thinks you have purple ey- did you call Neville, Neville?" she gaped.

Severus employed all of his talents to keep the blush off his face but it wasn't necessary because evidently Miss Granger had decided he could not possibly have said so and shook the silly thought from her head. So Potter had seen his eyes.

"What colour does Mr. Longbottom think my eyes are? Pink? And you Miss Granger, perhaps you think they're orange?" he sneered to cover up his slip.

"No sir, Neville and I still see you as you are. Your eyes are black or," she leaned forward to peer closer, "very, very dark brown."

"So you are concerned because Mr. Potter sees the wrong colour for my eyes while Mr. Longbottom sees the right colour so you felt the need to come to me?

"No sir," the Head Girl frowned. Taking a deep breath she decided to risk it all. She'd get Harry to forgive her later. "Sir, I think perhaps that Harry either copied a potion from your old text book and has taken it by accident or perhaps he did a spell or something, sir, that's causing him to see things. Most people don't know it, sir, because Harry has been too busy with the war to date, but Harry is gay. He really admired the Half-Blood Prince, sir, and imagined him as a friend. I think that in some way he's imaging this twenty year old man with, for whatever strange reason, deep purple eyes, thick black eyelashes, a chiselled jaw and milky-white skin who struts around like Lockhart. I wouldn't have imagined that Harry would be attracted to a Lockhart to be honest with you sir, but he's developed an unnatural fixation with this imaginary person. He's been angry with Neville for talking to you during the times he thinks you're this other person."

Snape sat back, his mind racing. Potter was good looking, powerful and he'd enjoyed working with the brat to bring down the Dark Lord. He hadn't considered Potter in that way but now he could definitely consider it. Granger had a point- Potter had been so busy fighting the Dark Lord and, until Albus had figured out how to get rid of it, the boy had in fact been a horcrux. He smirked imagining the looks on everyone's faces when Harry Potter not only broke the hearts of thousands of women but, stepping out on his arm, the hearts of thousands of men. The Saviour of the Wizarding World, The Chosen One could be his mate.

"Sir?" Hermione was already regretting her brashness. The malicious looking smile on Snape's face was worrying her. "Sir, I only came to you because I'm worried about Harry and I hoped you could help. I don't think he would ever forgive me if you used it against him," she pleaded.

"I will be discreet, Miss Granger. Is there anything else?" he dismissed her.

Severus Snape took extra time in the shower that night. Putting on his best robes, he toned down his yellow teeth a couple of shades.

"Honey, if you want to impress him, why don't you just forget the glamour altogether?" Millie the mirror was amused.

"My mate," he stressed the word, imagining he could see her jaw drop, "can see through this glamour."

As he made his way through Hogwarts' halls, Snape couldn't keep the smile from his face. If he knew Potter, and he felt certain he knew the younger man, he would be somewhere outside of the Gryffindor Tower.

"Goodnight Professor," that melodious voice purred from the dark corner.

"Potter... Harry," Snape replied, turning up his charms.

"You know my name?" Harry seemed surprised but pleased. Snape struggled not to roll his eyes. Who didn't know Harry Potter? "I suppose someone told you, of course."

"So, Mr. Potter," he began.

"Please, sir, call me Harry."

"So, Harry, what are you doing out here after curfew?" The besotted young man stood closer.

"Couldn't sleep," he whispered into Snape's ear, his lips brushing the ear and his body pressing indecently close. "You?"

Snape stepped back but turned up the lure a bit more. "Same. Thought I'd take a walk. Join me on a stroll around the lake?"

Harry's cauldron almost exploded. "Potter!" Snape banished the potion with an angry wave of his wand. "Detention, tonight!"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped and her boyfriend looked apologetically at Harry before leaving. "Harry we have to stay and talk to Professor Snape."

"I don't see why, 'Mione," Harry whined. "There's nothing wrong with me. I don't know why you went to the git."

"Is there a reason why the two of you are still here?" Snape sneered. "Mr. Potter's detention isn't for another four hours."

"Sir, please. He's getting worse! He thinks he met this 'man' for a midnight stroll last night. He thinks-"


"-they kissed!" Hermione ignored him.

"Not that it's anyone's business," Harry snapped, "but I did meet him and we did kiss. In fact," he pulled his collar aside revealed a large bruise, "we did more than just kiss."

"You- I- Harry!" Hermione was scandalized.

Snape stood behind her and removed his glamour with a wave of his hand. Harry gaped and he quickly returned the glamour. Hermione turned and stared at Snape suspiciously, wondering what he'd been doing behind her to cause Harry's face to turn first so pale and now so red.

"You," Harry whispered, staring at Snape. Hermione turned back to her friend and Snape waved his glamour back off and on again. "It was you."

"What was- Harry? Harry!" Hermione was scandalized. No, worse, she was rendered momentarily immobile and speechless. Harry had jumped Snape and Snape was letting him. Coming to her senses, she tugged on the Gryffindor robes. "I'm sorry Professor, I'm so sorry. He's not in his right mind."

"Take it off!"

"Harry!" Hermione was beginning to feel unwell. What did Harry mean, 'take it off'? She figured she'd better apologize before Snape's unusual good humour failed.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll get him out of him right now. Harry, come, now!" she demanded. Snape's jaw ground. Who gave this girl the right to order his mate around?

"Take it off so she can see! Please!" Harry begged.

"Harry, I said let's go!" Hermione stomped her feet and Snape developed a tic above his left eye.

"Oh, but you must show her how you look underneath."

"Harry!" Hermione was exasperated. Taking her wand out, she tried to stun her friend but she was stunned before she knew what hit her.

"What have you done?" Harry looked appalled.

"You're my mate. She has no right to order you around or try to harm you," Snape wrapped his arm around the younger man's waist. "You're mine. MINE."

Harry knew he was supposed to be doing something. He really meant to do it... something about someone... He couldn't think. Kissing this man was divine and hypnotic. He pressed closer to the man and tried create friction against his throbbing dick.

"Professor Snape, what is going on here?" Headmistress McGonagall released Hermione from the hex.

"I'm his m-mate," Harry said dreamily through well-kissed lips, leaning against Snape.

But it wasn't that that held Hermione's interest. Wearing Snape's clothes and standing where Snape should be and answering to Professor McGonagall was the most handsome man she'd even seen- and he had purple eyes.