I promised I would write a baby!Draco story for my next Drarry after I finished Ingenious Devices, and I will, but as a breather, I've decided to work on a five-chapter Snarry first as a break of sorts. Please enjoy!

Harry James Potter, age fifteen, was ninety-nine point nine percent sure Severus Tobias Snape (officially dubbed the most sadistic teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and that was impressive considering they also had Argus Filch on staff) was in a bad mood.

Maybe it was the sneer on his face, or the sheer force he was using as he attacked the feeble shield between his consciousness and Harry's memories. Either way, it didn't matter. Harry was exhausted, and his angry teacher happened to be the reason. Fighting back against Snape's attacks was a difficult thing and it took all of his willpower not to give in to the fatigue and just let him in. It wasn't like there was anything particularly exciting for him to find, anyway- a few beatings here and there, a single pathetic kiss with a fourth year girl (which wasn't his idea anyway; she had jumped him), an accidentalsnog that Snape already knew about, and a few tender moments with his friends. It wasn't like he was trying to hide anything from his teacher, anyway; it was the sheer annoyance at being the punching bag Snape was using to get his frustrations out that spurred him to keep pushing back.

Snape threw attack after attack at his mental wall with fire in his dark eyes. He looked tired, just as tired as Harry was, and he watched a bead of sweat slide down his pallid face, but more than that, he looked seriously pissed and he wouldn't stop until he'd won once more. Harry could only imagine what sort of horrible mood Snape would be put in when Harry finally succeeded in keeping him out for good. He almost looked forward to it, in a way.

Finally, his wall broke and he felt that irrationally infuriatedprobing, rummaging through his consciousness not from interest but just from the knowledge that Harry hated having him in his head. He didn't react, just retracted what little bit of the wall that still remained and slumped in the chair he sat in, feeling more than watching as his professor went through a few more recent memories- chess with Ron, studying with Hermione, that accidental kiss with Malfoy that had oddly enough turned into a snogging session that had left him somewhat confused yet overly pleased with the fact he had left the blonde in disarray, pulled away (coincidentally) by the same teacher who now looked upon the memory with a grimace.

"That was not something I wanted to see again, Mr. Potter," he said calmly, but Harry could see the effort he was using to resist growling.

"It wasn't something I wanted to do," he retorted, but he couldn't help thinking fondly on the memory anyway. "I'm not gay, as stereotypical as that sounds. It just sort of happened, and who would pass up the chance to mess with Malfoy?" He saw his professor's mouth shut into a tight line and he winced as the fateful words came, thought it didn't surprise him.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek and for harassing another student," Snape said smoothly and seemed far too pleased by the opportunity to deduct points. "As for your Occlumency, I will be honest. You're improving... slowly." His eyes bored into Harry's. "We are finished here, but as a parting thought- keep the wall up. Even a patheticattempt such as yours is still better than nothing, and the more used to it you get, the easier it will become to keep it in effect all the time."

Harry rolled his eyes in return, shakily pushing himself to his feet. He swayed and automatically Snape's arm came out to steady him. He looked up into his teacher's face with something that wasn't quite disgust and mumbled a quiet 'thank you' before he left. Snape merely nodded in return, moving to sit behind his desk, but Harry didn't stick around.

When he thought about it, Snape really wasn't thatbad looking. He was almost half-attractive, in a strange, hawk-like sort of way. The grease wasn't really that bad anymore, for example; as it turned out, it was actually a side effect of constant brewing and lately, he had been far too busy to keep up his usually near-constant array of potions in his back room. He would never be particularly attractive, either, but when it came down to it, he had an almost aristocratic aura-the way he walked, the way he spoke, and the way he dressed even was always rather high-class. He was pale, but aging well besides; little to no wrinkles and what looked like smooth skin. His eyes were sharp, intelligent, and Harry had seen him when he wasn't being cruel. He had potential, Harry admitted, though he couldn't think of any girls that would be interested.

No matter how strangely attractive Snape was, though, it didn't change the fact that he was a huge git, the big black bat of the Slytherin dungeons and besides which, Harry was straight, despite what his professor probably thought.

In all honesty, Harry wasn't quite sure what had possessed him to snog Malfoy after he had tripped. The blonde had literally fallen into his arms in the potions room just before class the day before and though the "kiss" was completely accidental, it had (after the embarrassed, nervous initial movement of Malfoy's lips) turned into a full-blown make out session that was interrupted only when Snape walked in, pulled Malfoy back by his collar and nearly threw him into his seat, giving them both dirty looks without a comment, thought the glare Draco had gotten seemed much fiercer.

Harry knew he found men attractive, but he still preferred women and when it came down to it, he really didn't want to deal with the publicity of being into men. Firmly, he locked that part of him down, no matter how attractive Snape was (even if he were willing to come out as bisexual or even bi-curious, the fact remained that Snape wanted him mauled at best and dead at worse) or how nice Malfoy's ass was.

Everyone was giving Malfoy crap about the whole incident and Harry was fighting over whether he found it funny or cruel. It had been himwho had turned it from an accidental brush of the lips to a snog (accidentally), and though he couldn't be faulted for how enthusiastically the blonde had responded, part of the blame was still his even if he'd practically been assaulted by slender, pale hands and plump pink lips. Everyone acted like had pulled some great prank on Malfoy, but he hadn't and thatwas the part he felt guilty over.

He shook his head, not wanting to think about it anymore, and turned into another dark, cold dungeon corridor. He was nearing the stairs that led up to his far more open tower when a shadow stepped into his path. He kept walking, assuming the shadow would move if he did. It did not and wearily, he peered into a dark face, sighing when the person turned his head just slightly to glare at him and a glint of blonde caught his eye.

"Enjoying yourself, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair because ofcoursethis was exactly what he needed, a run in with the (very good looking) bane of his existence. He waved cheekily and gestured for the blonde to move to the side and let him pass.

"What are you doing in my dungeons?"

Harry let out a long-suffering breath and gave the blonde Slytherin the evil eye. "I'm not in the mood, Malfoy, and they're not yourdungeons. I had a... detention, with Professor Snape."

"What, buggering him now?" Malfoy sneered, his voice tainted with what sounded almost like jealousy and Harry growled half-heartedly, unable to work up the right amount of frustration due to his exhaustion. "I wouldn't have thought you were into that sort of thing- now, I love my Uncle Severus dearly, but isn't he a bit old for you? You go from me, to him?" Harry locked his jaw to prevent himself from hurling a curse at the blonde and took a deep breath, pushing past him with the intent to ignore his presence. He had no interest in Snape and Malfoy probably knew that. Being able to admit that Snape wasn't a completely disgusting bloke didn't mean he was interested, and he wasn't. He was still hoping to take Cho on a date, and though it appeared that there was no luck there it didn't mean he wouldn't continue to try.

"I wasn't 'with' you in the first place, and I'm pretty sure you're smart enough to figure out I'm not interested in buggering Snape, either, you foul little wanker," he snapped and Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked in an odd voice, a nasty little smirk curling his lips upward. Harry didn't like the sound of that, looking up at Draco in dread. "You know, you shouldn't say things like that if you're not sure."

"I'm sure."

But that little smirk didn't go away or fade, only grew. "You know what, Potter? I think you're lying." Harry rolled his eyes and made to move away, back upstairs so he could go to sleepbut Malfoy grabbed his arm, pulling him down and he fell, hitting the floor hard. He glared up at the blonde, drawing his wand, but Malfoy was faster and hissed a curse at him faster than he was able to catch exactly what was said.

He stared up at Malfoy in bewilderment, feeling nothing, until a sharp pain shot up his spine and the blonde smirked in satisfaction, kneeling down next to him as he curled in pain, breathing harshly and almost whimpering as spike after spike of what felt like fire shot through him. He heard, distantly, the blonde drop a bag next to him.

"That'll have everything you need for the first while," Malfoy cooed at him, his eyes cold, his smile vindictive. "Enjoy being dominated, little Harry."

He was left on the cold stone floor of the corridor.

*(An hour later)*

When Harry woke, it was to the concerned voices of several teachers and Hermione as well, though he couldn't hear Ron. He knew he was in the hospital wing, but he couldn't for the life of him remember why.

"—I'm not deluded, Professor! I studied this curse thoroughly, back in fourth year! There's nothing else it can be and besides, you saw the results of the wand test! You're just being stubborn." He half-smiled, a bit concerned as to what curse they were all worked up a bit, but hearing his friend argue with Professor McGonagal was just too funny.

"Stubborn or not, young lady," McGonagal responded, her voice more upset than affronted, which was odd. "It doesn't change the fact that this… is a problem. There is no counter-curse, Ms. Granger."

He looked over and noticed that the two women obviously had not yet noticed he was awake. McGonagal looked deeply troubled and Hermione's eyes were a tell-tale red. Harry was a bit alarmed; what could he possibly have gotten hit with, and how in hell did he get hit with it?

"Merlin, what did I get hit with?" he asked incredulously, unable to bite it back any longer. He had to know; he was so confused. "How long have I been in here?"

Both witches and Madam Pomfrey—who was standing by a first year down the hall of the hospital wing—all jumped nearly simultaneously, three heads whipping around to face him, clearly shocked. "Harry!" Hermione exclaimed and she was on him like Malfoy on bleach (something told him there wasn't actually any bleach involved in that hair, but he was feeling an almost odd hostility toward the blond).

"Calm down, 'Mione," he chuckled. "I'm fine. What's wrong?"

She blinked at him, pulling back just enough to check his heads for bumps or bruises. "Why are you in such a good mood?" she asked suspiciously. "I would have thought you'd be seething… we'd planned on having to hold you down so you didn't go and hurt someone." He raised an eyebrow.

She sucked in a sharp breath before forcing it out in a sort of half-laugh. "Well, I'll be damned." For once, neither woman behind her complained about language. "Harry, last night sometime—presumably after your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape, someone—we have no idea who—attacked you. We had… well, we'd hoped you would be able to tell us who it was."

Harry shrugged. "I don't even remember last night's lesson, sorry, let alone who attacked me afterwards. I don't feel any different, though—are you sure this curse hit me?"

Here, Hermione faltered, biting her lip. "I… yes, Harry, quite sure. A rather nasty curse."

"Then why don't I feel different—and weren't you saying something about there not being a counter-curse? Hermione, you look positively dreadful! What in Merlin's name was it?" Her lips pressed together into a thin line and she looked a bit paler. "Well? Hermione, are you all right? Seriously, you're worrying me." And worrying him she was; he bit his lip in anxiety, newly formed.

Hermione looked beyond nervous; as a matter of fact, she almost looked embarrassed, and Harry hadn't seen her truly embarrassed since her entrance at the Yule Ball the year before. He raised an eyebrow at her, a dark, uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach. What could possibly be so bad that she would be embarrassedto tell him? Was he suddenly a woman? A quick glance down told him that no, he wasn't, but he still felt disoriented somehow.

"Harry," she murmured, wincing slightly. "The curse that was used on you... well, it's rather infamous really... why do I have to explain it to him?" She sent the healer and Professor McGonagal desperate looks, but both women just gave her a look.

"Perhaps it's because you're such an expert on the subject, Ms. Granger," Professor McGonagal said smoothly, with an almost-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Hermione sighed dramatically, but her eyes were still troubled.

"Harry, you were hit with the Submissiveness Curse," she said all at once, and he was thankful he was used to her talking like that because otherwise he wouldn't have caught a word she had said. He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"So, what, I have to lose a fight or two? Be Ron's right-hand man for once? I don't mind. What's so bad about it?" Then he thought a bit harder when she colored and looked down. "Wait... you said there wasn't a counter-curse? I'd have to submit... does that mean I'd have to admit defeat to Voldemort?" Her face darkened in color and she didn't respond. "Hermione! Does this really mean... are we all screwed?" He asked this almost in a sigh, not liking her lack of response.

"She wasn't referring to battle, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said with a roll of the eyes as she handed him a cup of water. "And since she's obviously clammed up..." He watched curiously as her face turned the color of a ripe tomato and she buried her face in her hands, elbows propped on the side of his bed. "The Submissiveness Curse, or the Curse of Submission, is a very oldspell mostly used on slaves back when they were common- specifically, on pleasure-slaves."

Harry felt his face drain of blood, turning white quicker than a snitch could move. "And what does that mean?" he asked slowly, wrapping his brain around what she was ninety-nine point nine percent sure to mean.

Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow and he gulped. "The curse was used to force the slaves of pureblood families to need what was happening to them, which I'm sure I don't have to explain. Most slaves forced themselves to endure it lest it be cast on them, because the curse- as you've mentioned- has no counter-curse and if consummated, is permanent. It was literally a need, which became downright painful and lasted nearly twenty-four seven."

"In what situation is it not permanent?" Harry squeaked. She answered calmly, giving him a bit of hope.

"When the victim can resist the need to be dominated," she said, cleaning the area around him up a bit. "The slaves in question had no options, as they were forced nearly daily, but nowadays the curse sometimes pops up as torture, or in this case, revenge for something." She explained all of this in an even tone, emotionless despite her usually irritated personality. "Mr. Potter, there is no way around this and there is nothing I can give you that will help. All I can say is to keep yourself in check and if you feel yourself losing control, you need to come straight here. We can put you in restraints now, if you'd like."

"What do you mean, dominated?" he forced out, his voice edging up an octave or two. "What does that mean? Use plain language, what does that mean?"

"You'll want to be dominated, sexually, by another man," Professor McGonagal said quietly. "It is a matter of being submissive, entirely, to another person."

"I could just find a reallydominant woman, couldn't I?" he tried, a futile attempt as all three women rolled their eyes at him. "Millicent Bulstrode or something, couldn't I?"

"I don't think even Millicentis dominant enough for that," Hermione snorted. "What she's saying, in terms you'll understand, is that you will submit completely, and that means with your body, too. The main focus of the curse is sexual, Harry—you will feel a needto be… topped…" She struggled in telling him this, her voice sounding somewhat strangled. "It'll get worse. It starts slowly—doing as more dominant people tell you to, and then your body will feel the effects… really, Harry, it's horrible." He blanched and guilt flooded her eyes. "I mean, it's not thatbad—it's not permanent, really, so—"

"Only if I can resist the urge to—" He almost gagged on the words. "—be dominated… I don't want to be fucking dominated!" Hermione looked a bit shocked at his outburst. "Things have been balancing just a little bit, things getting a tiny bit better, and now—ugh! I have to, what? Turn gay because of a stupid curse?"

"Don't think of it as 'turning gay'," she tried meekly, chuckling though the sound was weak. "Think of it as… giving in to your body's… desires…"

He stared at her flatly. "That made it sound five times worse."

She nodded, wincing again. "I know."

He ran his hand through his hair, wilder than usual from sleep, and bit his lower lip, his free hand curling into a fist. His nails bit into his palm and he forced himself to let out the breath he was holding before he suffocated himself.


Professor McGonagal rolled her eyes at his language and Madam Pomfrey swatted him on the shoulder. "Make a decision, Mr. Potter," the healer said with an eye roll of her own. "Are you staying here, to be absolutely certain there is no chance of you losing control, or do you want to brave it?"

"I think I'll brave it," he said with a grimace, fisting his hair as if they would help him relieve any of the stress. "Thanks, though."

"You can leave now if you want, but keep in mind, Mr. Potter," she said in reminder. "Control will be harder to keep around other more dominant males."

"I'll keep it in mind," he answered as good-naturedly as he could as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, grabbing his bag—which now contained a suspicious Slytherin green drawstring bag inside—and taking Hermione's hand, edging toward the door and away from the two witches. "Look, I'll be careful, so don't worry about me." He didn't sound too sure of himself, but McGonagal sighed and shooed him off. He took the opportunity, rushing out to escape anymore awkward explanations. "This sucks," he muttered to her as they walked quickly down the hallway. It was early, before class and he only hoped to be able to get back to the common room, shower, and get to class on time.

"I know," she said and squeezed his hand. "Sorry about all of this." She really did sound sorry for him and he shrugged, recognizing her feelings as concern instead of pity.

"It's all part of the job description," he joked weakly, but he was far more worried about the whole situation than he was eager to let on.

He had a reason to be.

Not much Snarry (yet), but bear with me, it's coming. Cute Sub!Harry action next chapter!