Wordcount: 16,500

Beta(s): My deepest and most sincere thanks to murklins and fishsanwitt for their extraordinary help with this story. You would not believe how much they improved it. Mere words cannot convey my gratitude.

***

Potion Commotion



The potion was perfect - the perfect colour, the perfect smell, and the perfect solution to a problem that had vexed him for more than ten years.

"I truly wish you wouldn't do this, Severus."

Snape glanced away from the substance in the vial towards the portrait of Dumbledore on the nearby wall of his Potions lab.

"It is nothing less than what he deserves. He has never respected me. When I administer this and then invoke the spell, he will have no choice."

"It will cause Harry to fear you. Fear does not equal respect."

"It will suffice."

Turning on his heel, Snape left the room. Dumbledore eyed the potion sadly for a moment before a smile began to form.

"It needs only to be sweetened a tad."

Although as a portrait he was unable to do it on his own, he was fortunate to know a house-elf who was more than happy to help a friend of Harry Potter's.


* * *


"I hate these things," Harry muttered to himself. He would've muttered it to Ron and Hermione, but after years of breaking up, then getting back together again, they were finally married and on their honeymoon. If they'd been with him, the fourth annual "We Killed Voldemort" celebration might have been tolerable. As it was, he was surrounded by strangers who all wanted to shake his hand and congratulate him for something he'd done years earlier.

"Harry Potter," an aristocratic voice said from nearby. "May I say that you look quite alluring in those robes?"

Harry stiffened. Strangers were sometimes much better than the alternative. He turned to face the new arrival, who was using a glare to send everyone else scurrying away.

"Looking nice is good advertisement for my business, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said solemnly, holding out his hand to shake.

Lucius smiled and it made the hair on the back of Harry's neck prickle. His hand was engulfed by Lucius' larger one.

"Your clothes only gild the lily. And, Harry, must I ask you again to call me Lucius?" He pulled Harry forward by the hand he'd captured until they were only a few inches apart. "There is no need for such formality between us."

Harry's breath hitched as one of Lucius' fingers stroked his palm. This was not the first time that Lucius had made his interest known, but he was getting bolder in his pursuit.

"I like formality," Harry managed to say. "Formality is good."

"Not for those who know each other as well as we do," Lucius purred. He bent over Harry's hand and placed a kiss where he'd just stroked. When he felt Lucius' tongue touch his skin, Harry tugged his hand out of the other man's grasp.

"We don't know each other that well. Of course I'm not counting all that time you were trying to kill me."

"For which I have apologised and have offered to make amends." Lucius lowered his voice to a husky whisper. "Would it help if I went down on my knees in front of you and..." he paused and his gaze swept down Harry's body before fixating on Harry's crotch, "begged your forgiveness?"

Harry was a terrifyingly powerful wizard. With the help of his friends (and the Order) he'd tracked down the horcruxes and defeated Voldemort. He could make the earth tremble with his magic.

Unfortunately, he was also twenty-one, bisexual, and unable to stop himself from becoming aroused by a proposition from an extremely inappropriate source.

Nor was he able to hide that reaction from a now smug Lucius.

Frantically, Harry glanced around the room, searching for an escape. He was not not not going to have sex with Lucius, despite what his dick wanted. Lucius was evil and dangerous and sexy and... damn, he really needed help. Scanning the room, his eyes lit upon salvation in an unlikely form.

"Neville!" he yelped.

Neville, who'd been trying to juggle a plate filled with various hors d'oeuvres, along with a glass of champagne, glanced at Harry, his confusion evident since they'd already talked together earlier.

When Harry motioned for him to come closer, Neville did so, sloshing champagne over the edge of the glass as he walked.

"Neville, have you met Lucius Malfoy?"

Shaking his head, Neville stammered, "N-not formally."

"Then please allow me to introduce you to Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and right-hand man of Voldemort, reinstated Member of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts, and... and..." Harry had run out of descriptors that were socially acceptable. However, Neville and Lucius were standing and waiting impatiently for him to finish. "And a natural blond."

Lucius' eyebrows shot up while Neville stared at Harry.

Harry ignored his blunder and proceeded to blunder on further. "Lucius, this is Neville Longbottom, member of Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix, Cauldron Exploder Extraordinaire and... and..."

"Pleased to meet you," Neville said quickly, cutting Harry off before he could add anything else. However, when Neville went to shake Lucius' hand, he realized that was impossible, so instead he extended his plate.

"Hors d'oeuvre?"

Lucius looked as if Neville had just offered to let him hold his toad, Trevor. "No, thank you," Lucius answered tightly. He tilted his head to size Neville up better. "Cauldron Exploder Extraordinaire?"

"Next to the Weasley twins, Neville was our top explosion expert," Harry explained. "He's the one the came up with the device that got Rabastan Lestrange."

Lucius nodded. "I remember that incident. None of the house elves could get the stain out and I was forced to dispose of the robe I'd been wearing."

"That's right," Harry exclaimed. "You were next to him when it happened. It could've easily have been you."

An awkward moment descended on the group before Neville stuttered, "Though I-I'm sure everyone's glad it wasn't."

"Of course," Harry said quickly, deciding that he had to get out of there before the conversation died as bloody a death as Rabastan's. From the corner of his eye, he saw the perfect excuse. "Snape!" he exclaimed.

"Where?" Neville asked fearfully, spinning around to see if Snape was nearby.

"Over there," Harry pointed and Neville let out a small sigh of relief, but still sidled around Lucius, as if to use him as a shield.

"I have to go say 'hi' to Snape," Harry burbled to Neville and Lucius. "Because... you know... he's Snape."

It wasn't as if he hadn't seen Snape recently. He'd spoken to him only a week earlier while avoiding Rita Skeeter, who'd been attempting to interview Harry about how tragically broken-hearted he was due to Ron and Hermione's marriage. The diatribe the reporter had received from Snape, when she'd interrupted their conversation, had set her quick-quote quill on fire.

Snape seemed to be at all the functions Harry attended, usually criticising the food and hosts. The hosts never seemed to mind, concerned only with the cachet of having a former Death Eater spy as their guest.

Harry pushed past Lucius and made his way through the crowd, breathing a sigh of relief. From behind him he heard Neville ask, "So – you're a natural blond?"

He wasn't stupid enough to believe that Neville's company would delay Lucius for very long. Avoiding Lucius' attentions would be much easier if Harry was involved with someone. Even then, he could see Lucius intimidating that person until they gave up and abandoned Harry. What Harry needed was someone who could make Lucius back off.

The crowd parted and Harry saw Snape illuminated by a glow of light.

"Mr. Creevey," Snape snarled seconds later, still blinking from the camera flash, "if you do not wish for that device to take only photographs of your digestive tract in the future, I would suggest you remove yourself from my vicinity."

As Colin scurried away, Harry got a brilliant idea. A crazy, but brilliant idea.

If Lucius thought that he and Snape were involved, Snape was strong enough magically and downright mean enough to quell even Lucius' ardor. No one in their right mind would challenge Snape.

But no one in their right mind would get involved with Snape, either.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw that Lucius was still eyeing him with intent. Well, that cinched it. Crazy or not, Harry needed Snape to save him again. The main problem was that if Harry asked for Snape's help, the man was likely to laugh in his face. But if Snape didn't know he was helping...

Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, Harry approached Snape.

"Professor," he said in greeting.

"Mr. Potter," Snape replied.

Surprisingly, Snape looked relatively pleased to see him, Harry noted. There was a glint of anticipation in his eyes. This might actually work.

Harry held out his hand to shake Snape's hand and was a little puzzled by the dampness he felt against his palm. Was Snape nervous?

"How are you, Professor?" Harry asked.

Instead of replying, Snape said something that Harry didn't quite catch, though it sounded like a spell. Nothing, however, seemed to occur.

"I'm quite well, Mr. Potter," Snape said. He leaned forward. "And you?"

Harry wondered about the malicious smile on Snape's face, but figured it was probably his version of a socially acceptable expression. A quick glance around showed that Lucius had left Neville and was crossing the room towards them. Harry would have to work fast.

"I've missed you," Harry murmured. He removed his hand from Snape's and placed it on the professor's chest. "I've missed you a lot."

Snape's mouth dropped open and he took a step back. Harry followed, closing the distance between them. Harry's fingers began to toy with one of the buttons on Snape's robes.

"Perhaps we could go somewhere and catch up?" Harry looked up at Snape through his lashes. "Somewhere private?"

"This-this is the wrong reaction!"

"I don't care if it's wrong," Harry declared, "when it feels so right."

Snape took another step back. "This wasn't supposed to happen!"

Harry faked a sigh. "Who can predict the ways of the heart?"

For a moment, it appeared as though Snape might be ill. However, he swallowed hard and a determined expression settled on his face. "I must discover where I erred. Immediately." He grabbed Harry's hand, which was currently caressing his chest. "Come with me."

Harry smiled lasciviously. "I plan to."

Harry saw Lucius standing a few feet away, looking surprised at their precipitous exit, as Snape apparated them away from the gala.


* * *


In his lab at Hogwarts, Snape stared at the vial of potion from which he'd dabbed a small portion onto his palm before leaving for the celebration. The colour, which had been the perfect shade of mauve, was much lighter than it should've been. He leaned over and sniffed, then sniffed again, trying to distinguish what was different about the odor.

Picking up the vial, he began to swirl it when he heard a minor rattle. Lifting it higher, he examined the contents. There were several items now resting at the bottom, only one of which he could identify. It was a lemon drop.

"Albus!" he roared, swinging around to face Dumbledore's portrait.

"He isn't there."

Snape spun towards Potter, who had plopped down on one of the nearby chairs and was watching Snape closely.

"I saw the Headmaster when we arrived and was planning to talk to him, but he just winked and waved good-bye. He may have gone to visit his portrait in McGonagall's office."

"That interfering, meddling madman," Snape growled.

"What did he do now?"

"He," Snape said, practically quivering with anger, "is responsible for our current predicament."

"How so?"

"You, Mr. Potter, have been a constant thorn in my side since your arrival at Hogwarts. Even though it's been years since we were forced to work together to rid the world of Voldemort, I am still plagued by your presence every time I venture into society. That potion," Snape pointed to the vial, "was supposed to end our association, once and for all."

Harry's spine straightened and his eyes narrowed. "Are you saying that you used a potion on me?"

"Yes! One that would keep you away from me. That fool of a Headmaster altered it somehow, turning it into a love potion."

"It's not a love potion."

"Of course it is, you imbecile!"

Snape stomped around the room, gathering supplies. It was only when he returned to where Harry sat that he realized Harry had been uncharacteristically quiet. At a glance, it seemed to Snape that the boy was deep in thought.

Snape quickly banished that notion. The boy rarely thought at all.

"I will need a sample of your blood," Snape announced, readying a flask and picking up a small knife.

Harry blinked and then stared at Snape. For a split-second, Snape felt as if it were the Dark Lord himself staring at him. With a shake of his head, he dismissed the feeling. There was nothing to fear – this was Potter.

"A blood sample will enable me to diagnose how best to counteract the potion," Snape said hurriedly, still slightly unnerved and wanting to get past the moment.

"You want a blood sample?" Harry snapped. "The only way you'll get a blood sample from me is if you..." His voice trailed off. He looked at Snape again and this time, he smiled in a way that reminded Snape of how insanely Bellatrix smiled just before using Cruciatus. Harry's voice changed from sharp to sugary sweet. "I'd be happy to give you a blood sample. If you ask nicely that is."

"I don't do nice."

"Good." Harry rose to his feet and began to advance towards him. "Because I'm not nice and I really want you to do me."

Snape took a hasty step back and bumped into his desk. "That's the potion talking."

"It's not the potion," Harry murmured, moving closer. "It's my true feelings for you, finally making themselves known, Snapie. You don't mind being called Snapie, do you?"

"As long as you have no objection to me pulling your tongue out of your mouth and using it to strangle you every time you do."

"You want my tongue? I'd be happy to give it to you." Harry waggled his tongue obscenely.

"No!" Snape said hurriedly. "I want a blood sample. Simply a blood sample."

"And I want a kiss," Harry replied. "That's not too much to ask for in return for letting you open a vein."

Snape closed his eyes and contemplated ways to murder Harry Potter. After thinking of eight methods that were especially vicious and painful, he was finally relaxed enough to open his eyes again. To resist the temptation to use it, he slowly placed the knife, along with the flask he'd been holding, onto the desk behind him.

"I agree to your repugnant terms."

Closing the distance between them, Harry smiled. "Good."

Snape let out a yelp. "And keep your hands to yourself!" he added.

Harry's smile widened as he removed his hands from Snape's ass. The smile drew Snape's gaze to lips that seemed especially inviting. Drawn to them, Snape leaned down and brushed his mouth over Harry's. Breaking the rules, as always, Harry's hands fastened themselves to Snape's robes and held him still while his mouth latched onto Snape's.

As Snape struggled to free himself, it occurred to him that Potter was stronger than he appeared.

At last, breathing heavily, Snape pushed Harry away. "Satisfied?" he sneered.

"Not nearly," Harry said, then shrugged. "But a deal is a deal."


* * *


Less than twenty minutes later, Harry was home and pouring himself a large firewhiskey, which he swished in his mouth before swallowing. He sank onto his couch and wished Snape was there so that he could curse him.

How dare that git use a potion on him! It wasn't Harry's fault that he and Snape kept running into one another. If Snape didn't like it, the bastard could always stay home.

Harry took another gulp of his firewhiskey. Then another and another, hoping to wash away the taste of Snape in his mouth.

Not that Snape had tasted particularly bad, Harry considered. If he'd ever really thought of it, he would've thought that Snape would taste as vile as one of his potions. He hadn't. In fact, he'd tasted fairly—

At that moment, Harry realised that he was thinking of the way Snape tasted and blanched. He quickly poured himself another glass of firewhiskey. Instead of thinking of Snape's taste, he'd concentrate on how freaked Snape had been when Harry had come on to him.

Snape's reaction had been priceless. To fool Voldemort, he'd had nerves of steel, but when faced with Harry's fake ardour, he'd practically run.

Harry snickered at the memory of Snape's shock at the celebration, when he'd suggested they go somewhere private. Then there was the horrified look on his face when Harry had demanded a kiss. Even better was his outraged expression when Harry had put his hands on that nice backside of his, which hadn't felt nearly as scrawny as it looked.

Wait a minute... nice backside?

Deciding that this was a clear sign to stop drinking, Harry sat his glass down and headed for the bedroom.


* * *


Harry was working on the account books, at his men's clothing shop, two days later when his assistant, Gideon, approached him.

"Would you mind if I left a little early, Harry? I'm feeling a mite under the weather."

Glancing at Gideon, Harry saw that he appeared quite flushed. "Of course. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Gideon stared at the floor. "I've... I've only one appointment. A client wishes to be measured for a new set of dress robes, the new style - with trousers." He raised his eyes to Harry's before shifting them back to the floor. "You wouldn't mind handling that, would you?"

"Not at all."

It was only after Gideon had hurried out the door that Harry realized he hadn't asked the client's name. When he saw a flash of blond hair pass by the front window, followed by the bell above the door jingling, Harry knew he'd been set up.

"Harry," Lucius said as he entered. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here."

"It's my shop," Harry said through thinned lips. "Your presence in it is much more unusual. I thought you used Twillfit and Tattings."

"I do, but I found myself contemplating your shop and decided to avail myself of your services." Lucius glanced around. "I believe I have an appointment with Gideon."

"Gideon no longer works here."

Lucius arched an eyebrow.

"I want employees that can't be bought."

Walking further into the shop, Lucius smiled cynically. "Everyone can be bought."

"I can't."

Lucius studied him, then nodded. "Perhaps not," he conceded. He moved closer and his voice lowered. "You would have to be seduced."

Feeling a rush of blood flood his face, Harry quickly grabbed the magical measuring tape and headed for the platform. "You're here to be measured, right?"

"Correct. However I must insist that you do the measuring yourself versus using magical means." Lucius followed Harry to the platform and stepped up on it. "I find that the 'personal touch' is usually far more accurate."

Stifling a groan, Harry raised a privacy shield around them, which was similar to one-way glass, so that while it kept him and Lucius from being seen, he could view the rest of the store in case other customers entered. Facing Lucius, he said as calmly as he could, "I'm going to need you to remove your robes."

"Certainly."

As Lucius' robes were discarded, Harry's eyes widened in shock.

"Y-y-you're naked!" he yelped.

"I find that underclothes ruin the lines of my robes." Lucius smirked. "Is that going to be a problem?"

It took a great effort on his part, but Harry managed to drag his eyes away from Lucius' groin up to his face.

"No," Harry said shakily. "Not a problem."

For most of the measurements, Harry tried his best to avoid looking at Lucius, which was impossible. It didn't help that Lucius kept shifting as Harry measured. All the while, Harry wondered if he should cast cooling charms for the room had grown uncomfortably hot.

At last, the only thing he had left to measure was the inseam.

"Would you mind...." Harry said, making vague hand motions towards Lucius' crotch.

Without saying a word, Lucius cupped his testicles and moved them to the side.

He was a professional, Harry kept repeating to himself. He could do this. He'd be careful and touch Lucius as little as possible. Then Harry made the mistake of looking up.

Lucius was staring down at him, his eyes heated with lust. His gaze speared Harry and Harry felt his entire body warm. The crotch of his trousers twitched and he bit his lip in an effort to maintain control.

"Harry," Lucius said, his voice like warm honey sliding down Harry's throat.

"Harry?" A voice called out.

Tearing his eyes away from Lucius, Harry looked through the privacy shield and saw that Neville had entered the store.

"I'll be right with you," Harry called out, relieved. Neville's presence would prevent anything untoward from occurring.

"That's fine," Neville replied. "I only came in to... crap! Snape's headed this way!"

Neville hurried towards Harry and ducked behind the privacy shield. He started a little upon discover Lucius Malfoy standing there completely naked, but didn't let that stop him from using the spot as a hiding place.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Neville, you do realize that Snape was on our side, right?"

"He told me if he ever laid eyes on me again, after I accidentally set fire to his hair, that he would curse me so that the Longbottom line came to an immediate and irrevocable end. I don't want to lose my bits," Neville pleaded, one hand covering protectively the parts in question.

The door to Harry's shop opened and Snape stormed inside. "Potter!"

Harry stepped away from the privacy shield and plastered a bright smile on his face.

"Snapie!"

"Call me Snapie again and I'll invent a curse that will cause any brains that remain in that useless head of yours to liquefy and ooze from your nostrils!"

Harry's grin became even more obnoxiously brilliant. "You'd invent a special spell just for me?"

Snape closed his eyes for a moment. His hands clenched into fists. A moment later he opened his eyes to mere slits. "I need you to come to Hogwarts," he said through gritted teeth.

Easing nearer to where Snape stood, Harry made a show of licking his lips. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me."

Snape's eyes followed the path Harry's tongue, then shook his head as if shaking off the Imperius curse. "I'll expect you in my office in ten minutes," he snapped before turning on his heel and exiting.

"Ten minutes?" Before Harry could say anything else, it was too late. Snape was already gone.

The way Harry saw it, he had two choices. He could stay at the shop and measure Lucius Malfoy, which could lead to things that were really, really wrong. Or, he could continue pretending to be in love with Snape and annoy the heck out of him. Additionally, if Snape ever discovered Harry's deception, Harry would be lucky if he escaped with his life.

Irritating Snape and putting his own life at risk? Was there ever any question as to what he'd choose?

"Neville, I have to go," Harry said as he grabbed his outer cloak. "Do me a favour and finish measuring Mr. Malfoy for me."

"What? I don't know how."

"It's easy. Just take his measurements and write them down."

"But—"

"Must go!" Harry said, ignoring Neville's protests.

Harry was closing the door behind him when he heard Neville say, "You really are a natural blond."


* * *

Snape perused the items on the table to see if he had everything prepared for Potter's arrival. His vials with various agents were ready for a drop of Potter's blood. His potion knife lay next to them.

It occurred to him that Potter might once again be reluctant to give up his blood for the project and would likely try to strike a bargain. It would be much easier if he could Stupefy the idiot, but Snape was positive the Ministry would frown on such an act against their hero. Binding him would be out for the same reason.

An image of Harry, bound and beneath him, pleas spilling from those lovely lips, flitted through Snape's mind. He ruthlessly and efficiently eradicated it from his mind.

He didn't want to think about Potter at all. Not his mouth or his body that was now shown off by clothes that fit. From talking to Minerva, Snape had learned that Potter had hated the large, oversized clothes he perpetually wore, seeing them as a remnant of his time spent with his Muggle relatives. Upon learning spells to alter his clothing, then more spells to create clothing that suited him, the boy had found he had a talent for such things.

Many had expected him to become an Auror or play professional Quidditich. Only his closest friends hadn't been surprised when he'd opened a shop off of Diagon Alley. The only thing he'd done more shocking had been that fiasco of a relationship with Draco Malfoy, which had ended so badly that it was still, years later, almost always referred to in any article concerning Potter.

There was a knock on his door and Snape drew himself up to his full height before answering it.

"Hey," Harry said, before sauntering into the room.

"You shall address me as either Professor or sir," Snape said stiffly.

Harry shrugged and his gaze wandered over Snape's body, getting lost around the groin area. "Whatever you say, Snapiekins."

Snape forced himself to keep his wand lowered.

"So – what's up?" Harry asked and then grinned. "Besides me, that is."

"I need more blood."

"You need more? I always thought you were a hot-shot Potions Master. Are you telling me you haven't figured out this love potion yet?"

"No," Snape bit out.

"Fine, you can have some blood, but it's going to cost you."

"Of that I am well-aware. I'm quite used to it costing me when attempting to aid you. This is no different."

The grin dropped from Harry's face as he digested Snape's comment and he took a step back. When Harry spoke again, his tone was conciliatory.

"Professor, I need to tell you something. I--"

"I haven't the time to listen to your proclamations of love. There are matters we must attend to."

"Look, you don't understand. I'm—"

"Must you persist in blathering on? You love me, want me, need me – I am quite familiar with the usual effects of love potions and the feelings they engender."

Harry stepped closer, his tone becoming harder. "If you'd just shut up for one minute, I'd tell you that—"

"Enough!" Snape demanded. "Cease your babbling at once. I do not wish to hear whatever you have to say."

Harry folded his arms across his chest and glared at Snape. "Fine! I won't tell you then."

"Good! Now, shall we negotiate a price for a sample of your blood? I am quite willing to allow you to kiss me once more."

"Maybe I don't want a kiss," Harry said sulkily, refusing to look at Snape.

"You want more than one kiss? You are determined to cause me the maximum amount of revulsion possible, aren't you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed in calculation. "You're right. I do want more than a simple kiss. I want ten full minutes of enthusiastic snogging."

Snape looked down his nose at the shorter Harry. "Impossible. Bending over to kiss you for that long would do irreparable harm to my back."

"Who said anything about you bending over?"

With a wave of his hand, Harry transformed a nearby chair into a comfortable-looking couch.

Snape blinked to see such casual use of wandless magic, but said nothing. However, when Harry lay down, he snapped out, "Idiot. I will have to bend even more to reach you now."

"No you won't," Harry replied. "I expect for you to lie on top of me."

His mouth already open to refuse, Snape stopped when he saw Harry's tongue flick out to wet his lips.

Feeling as if he were on his way to discuss with Voldemort the failure of a plot, Snape moved closer. That infernal brat waited quietly, but his eyes were lit with amusement. Carefully, Snape placed one knee on the edge of the couch, then swung his other leg over Harry so that he was straddling him.

Bracing his hands on both sides of Harry's head, Snape leaned down and placed a brief kiss on Harry's lips. Silently, he congratulated himself on the fact that he'd assumed a position that involved the least amount of contact with Potter as possible.

Again, he leant down, but this time Harry grabbed his shoulders and yanked him forward so that Snape's body fell onto his. Snape broke the kiss and attempted to pull back, but Harry murmured a quiet, "Ten full minutes".

They kissed again, awkwardly. Their noses bumped and Harry's glasses got in the way. Frustrated, Snape broke the kiss again, this time reaching up to remove Harry's glasses and drop them to the floor. His gaze swept over Harry's face to settle again upon his mouth. Harry's lips were shiny and slightly puffy. Snape wondered what they would look like after ten minutes and he became determined to find out.

As they kissed, their bodies, previously unyielding and still, started to relax, shifting, as each sought a more comfortable position.

Snape found himself with his left side bearing most of his weight and his right leg sprawled across Harry's thighs. One hand had sifted through Harry's hair to cup the back of his head – all the better to tilt and angle it as they kissed.

He allowed Harry's tongue into his mouth when it sought entrance, but punished it thoroughly by sucking on it ruthlessly. When Harry's tongue retreated, Snape's tongue followed.

Time sped as Snape ravished Harry's mouth. He wasn't sure when his hand slipped down to briefly cup a shoulder, nor when it slid further, to settle on a spot over where Harry's heart beat furiously.

Harry tore his mouth away to gasp when a hardness pressed against his hip. Giving him a moment to breathe, Snape attacked the line of his jaw then ventured to the soft flesh of his neck.

"Snape..."

"What?" Snape lifted his head from where he'd been nibbling a delectable spot, not happy about being interrupted.

"It's..." Harry sucked in a breath when Snape licked a wet stripe on his skin. "It's been ten minutes."

Snape stilled. He'd completely forgotten about the terms of their agreement

"I believe it's been nine minutes and forty-two seconds," he lied, "but I am more than happy to stop this disgusting task early."

He rolled off Harry, landed on his feet, and began to walk towards his equipment, concentrating on hiding any shakiness in either his movement or his breathing. Upon reaching his equipment he picked up his potion knife, forced his hand to remain steady, then turned to Harry.

"I believe you owe me your blood."


* * *

Harry's blood had been collected and Harry was gone in record time. Once alone, Snape finally allowed the firm control he had on his reactions to ease.

Part of him wanted to retire immediately to his bedchamber and rid himself of any passion that Harry had aroused in him. Another part wanted to scream at the heavens for the unfairness of making him susceptible to Harry's charms. It was if the fates themselves had chosen to torment him by making him attracted to someone he despised.

He did neither, for years of discipline won out. Diligently, he began to place drops of Harry's blood in the various vials he'd prepared earlier.

"My word," Dumbledore's portrait exclaimed as Snape worked. "That went extremely well. I knew you boys would get along famously."

Snape hunched his shoulders and focused on his task. "We are not getting along. Potter is under the influence of a love potion, as you very well know."

"A love potion, you say? How did that occur?"

Whirling to face the portrait, Snape had to struggle to keep his temper under control. "I shall abide no more of your meddling. The changes you made to my potion have thrown my life into chaos. Fortunately, with this new sample of Potter's blood, I believe I will have all the components isolated in no time and will be able to start work on a remedy to the accursed love potion you created."

"I created?" Dumbledore asked. "I did no such thing."

"Had created," Snape corrected, "With the aid of a fellow conspirator in the castle."

"My dear Severus, I did nothing to your potion but add ingredients to make it ineffective."

Snape glared at Dumbledore. "There is no need to lie. The truth will be discovered soon enough."

"I assure you that the potion you applied to Harry's hand is not responsible for any of his actions."

"Explain to me then why Potter is acting like a love-sick fool?"

"Perhaps he has finally seen beyond the hard facade you've created to the true you, Severus."

"If that is correct, then I am surprised he is not running in fear. Too often I must disguise my emotions and pretend a modicum level of civility. The true me is even more unpleasant than my facade."

Once again, Snape bent to his work, determined to find the cause of Harry's malady and his torment.


* * *


Harry was looking through various resumes and job applications in hopes of finding someone to replace the untrustworthy Gideon the following day, when Neville arrived at his shop. Neville handed him a piece of paper.

"Eight inches long, circumference..." Harry read, then glanced up at Neville. "What's this?"

"Lucius Malfoy's measurements. You didn't say if you wanted it erect or not so I did both."

"Oh God!" Harry covered his face with his palms.

"Don't worry. Even though I'm not experienced, I must have done it right. Mr. Malfoy said from now on he'd go to your store for all of his clothing."

Harry raised his head. "Neville... um...."

Neville's expression was so hopeful, so seeking of approval, that Harry didn't have the heart to tell him that in one afternoon he'd turned Harry's clothing business into something else entirely.

"Thank you, Neville," Harry said quietly.

Neville beamed. "You're welcome. I think I got you some new clients, too. Mr. Malfoy said he'd recommend your shop to his friends."

A vision of ex-Death Eaters lined outside his store waiting for handjobs caused Harry to let out a small groan and put his face back in his hands.


* * *


After two days of painstakingly performed tests, Snape was forced to accept that Harry was not under the spell of a love potion.

"It's a trick," Severus growled. "It's a malicious, immature attempt on Potter's part to get close to me in order to obtain a laugh at my expense."

"That is quite unlike Harry," Dumbledore said from his portrait.

Snape sneered at him. "You always did defend the indefensible."

"Some saw it as my greatest failing. They even believed erroneously that it was that failing which led to my death."

As what Dumbledore said hit home, Snape's pale face turned paler.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at him. "I, however, saw it as a virtue. One that I have never regretted."

Abashed, Snape turned away from the portrait. "That was you. I am much more inclined to believe the worst of people and am rarely wrong."

"While I believed in the best of people and was also rarely wrong."

"Best or worst, it matters not. Potter will rue the day he chose to make a fool out of me."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Believe what you will. My advice to you then is to be careful that you do not do something that accomplishes his task for him."


* * *


Harry had finished fitting Lucius' new dress robes to him when he took his courage in hand and embarked on the discussion he'd already postponed for days.

"Lucius, you do realize that Neville didn't know what he was doing when he measured you, right?"

Even without looking at his face, Harry knew Lucius was smirking.

"For someone inexperienced, he was surprisingly adept."

"That's not what I meant." Harry took a deep breath before plunging on. "I'm asking you, as a personal favour, to forget it ever happened. To allow me obliviate it from your memory."

Lucius arched his brows. "Obliviate it? I believe that goes far beyond a mere favour, not that I would ever give permission for obliviation, legilimency, or any such intrusion of my mind. However, I do believe that we might be able to come to an agreement in which I never mention it to another."

"What kind of agreement?" Harry asked warily.

Pursuing his lips, Lucius studied Harry for a moment before speaking. "As you know, my lovely wife Narcissa passed away four years ago. Draco is still in South America, working his way through the Quidditch players there."

"Draco must be breaking hearts right and left," Harry said, a touch bitterly.

Lucius gave Harry a speaking look. "He claims you broke his."

"That's not..." Harry trailed off, not quite knowing what to say about his and Draco's past relationship.

"Not the point of this conversation," Lucius finished for him. "Socially, I am currently in an awkward position. I am too powerful and rich to be ignored by the Ministry and am thus invited to Ministry-sponsored events. However, few seek out my companionship. Those I once counted as friends either no longer wish to be associated with me or are dead."

Harry could have said something about choosing friends that weren't Death Eater scum, but decided that since he wanted a favour from Lucius, that probably wouldn't go over too well. He nodded and said nothing.

"Additionally, I am living alone in Malfoy Manor," Lucius continued. "It is rather large and currently devoid of all company but that of house elves. It is, at times, quite lonely. I am hoping that you might help me rectify those circumstances."

Was Lucius going to use Neville's indiscretion to blackmail Harry into sleeping with him? Despite it having been quite some time since he'd had a lover, Harry wasn't going to go along with it. He couldn't picture Lucius on top of him. The only one he could currently imagine in that position was... Snape?

"Oh, fuck me," Harry blurted out in shock. How'd he get from pretending to want that git to actually doing so?

"That's an idea, but not quite what I was thinking of." Lucius said, eyeing him curiously. "I've recently begun a new relationship."

He was going nuts, Harry decided. He was completely barmy if he wanted Snape. Hermione had worried that, with the Dursleys being the only family Harry knew, his relationships would be warped.

"Deep down, it must only feel right when I'm being abused," Harry said aloud.

Lucius frowned. "Abuse isn't my style. I don't know what you've heard about Death Eater meetings, but believe me, the goings-on are greatly exaggerated."

But a deep-seated need to be abused couldn't be right, could it, Harry wondered. His relationship with Ginny had been great. She'd always treated him wonderfully and they'd got along awfully well until the time when he'd found himself dreaming about Draco's ass. As for the relationship with Draco, that was still a source of pain and the less Harry thought about it, the better.

"For instance," Lucius was saying, not noticing that Harry was paying no attention, "everyone thinks we had huge orgies, which is utterly ridiculous. Did they ever see the Dark Lord? It is entirely possible that a nose was not the only thing missing in his reincarnation."

That last sentence broke through Harry's reverie. He stared at Lucius, mouth dropping open. "What?"

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Surely you don't need me to make my meaning any clearer."

Harry continued to stare at Lucius for a few more seconds, before shaking off his confusion. It wasn't bad enough that he'd just discovered he had the hots for Snape. Now Lucius had to be talking about Voldemort's private parts. Or lack of same.

"Can we get back to the conversation we were having?" Harry asked, his voice cracking.

"Gladly," Lucius said, sounding relieved. "I'm not going to lie and say that the thought of you in my bed has never crossed my mind. At the moment, though, I think I'd prefer something else. My agreement, to your request to keep my silence, would be that you and I meet at least once a week and talk as friends."

"As friends?"

"Nothing more. Perhaps a dinner out each week."

"And would this dinner be in some secluded corner or in a hotel room?"

"As I said earlier, my interest is currently occupied by someone else. Our meetings, therefore, would be exceedingly public."

Harry thought for a moment about what Lucius was asking. "Exceedingly public?" he repeated. "As in, showing the rest of the Wizarding World that you and The Boy Who Lived have put aside your differences and are friends?"

Lucius gave Harry a slight nod of admission. "Perhaps."

"And possibly easing your way back into society?"

"That might be a natural consequence of our meetings."

Harry let out a sigh and nodded his head. "Fine. I agree. But remember, you can't tell anyone about Neville's indiscretion."

Lucius held out his hand for Harry to shake and seal the deal. "I give you my word as your friend."

Lucius Malfoy was going to be his friend. Additionally, Harry had just discovered that he wanted Snape. Harry glanced around at their surroundings. Everything still seemed to be fine despite these signs of an impending apocalypse.


* * *


Harry had decided that the only way to fight his attraction to Snape was to hole up in his shop and never go outside again for the rest of his life. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable response to the situation.

However, Snape was having none of it.

"Potter!" he roared from the floo one day when the shop was fairly busy.

Most of the shop patrons quickly stopped chatting and spun to face the floo. Some dropped their purchases onto the floor and looked around in terror. Two appeared to be about to wet their pants.

Snape had definitely made an impression on everyone that had attended Hogwarts for the past twenty years.

Striving for calm, Harry approached the floo.

"Yes, Professor Snape?"

"Be at my dungeon door in exactly one hour," Snape ordered.

"But my shop doesn't close for another two."

"One hour!" Snape's face disappeared from the floo.

Harry turned around and faced his customers who were watching him avidly.

"I guess we're closing early today."


* * *


Precisely one hour later, Harry knocked on the door to Professor Snape's rooms. He'd arrived a few minutes earlier and stuck his head into the Potions lab, where they'd met on the two previous occasions, but it had been empty. Not wanting to be late, he'd run at full speed to Snape's private rooms and was still panting slightly when he'd knocked.

The door was flung open and Snape nodded his head in greeting. "Potter," he said gravely, and ushered him inside.

The only other time Harry had ever been in Snape's rooms had been after Dumbledore's death and Snape and Draco had escaped. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks, as Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix, had decided to investigate Snape's living quarters to see if he'd left any clues to where he'd gone. Harry had donned his invisibility cloak and followed them inside.

On the whole, the furnishings had reminded him of what he'd seen of the Slytherin common room and he'd figured they must have come with the appointment as Head of Slytherin. The clothing had been sparse, mostly of the sort Snape had worn every day. What had struck him, however, were the walls and walls of books that had been categorized within an inch of their life.

Kingsley and Tonks had rifled through the trunks and chest of drawers and found nothing of interest. The desk had also revealed little of a personal nature. The two Aurors had left to report their lack of findings while Harry had remained behind.

Remembering the marked-up pages of the Half-Blood Prince's book, Harry began randomly pulling books off of the shelves to flip through the pages, checking specifically for notes in the margin. Hours upon hours later, after reading tons of scathing commentary on the authors' lack of perception and inability to convey simple ideas, Harry had a growing pile of books that contained possible remedies for cursed limbs.

Snape had spent an inordinate amount of time seeking ways to cure Dumbledore.

The margin scribbles on the subject were extensive – some sounded frustrated, some analytical, but a majority carried an air of desperation. If Snape had been searching for a way to save Dumbledore, why had he killed him?

It was at that moment that Harry had begun to doubt that Snape was on Voldemort's side.

Now, years later, walking into Snape's rooms, Harry's gaze moved to the walls of bookcases. He hoped that Snape had never discovered that he was the one who'd gone through his books and messed up their order. Even at this late date, he could envision Snape giving him detention for it.

"You wanted to see me?" Harry asked. He wasn't going to try to pretend an excessive attraction anymore. It felt much too close for comfort to his true feelings.

"Yes. I have narrowed down the love potion to a mere handful, but I must perform more tests to determine which one it is."

"You'll be wanting my blood, I suppose."

Snape shook his head. "Using blood was an error in judgment. It is the reason I have not made further progress. I need your semen."

"My what?"

"Your semen," Snape repeated. "Your ejaculate. Your come. Your--"

"I know what semen is!"

Harry ran a hand through his hair and wondered how he'd managed to get in this mess. "Fine," he acceded. "Give me a container and I'll go fill it in the bathroom."

"I'm afraid that's impossible." At Harry's puzzled look, Snape continued. "Your semen must be added directly into the vial with the reacting agent."

"Then give me the vial."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Do you truly expect me to trust you with a potion? I well remember your general ineptitude."

"Hey, I wasn't so bad in sixth year."

"When you had my old Potions text to guide you. No. I will be in charge of the vial." Snape pointed to the black leather couch. "I suggest you open your robes, lower your trousers, and make yourself comfortable."

Harry looked at the couch, looked at Snape, then looked at the couch again. Snape expected him to wank in front of him?

"Are you sure we have to do this?"

"It is imperative if we are to remove the love potion from your system." Snape stared hard at Harry. "Unless you know something about the love potion that I don't?"

If he confessed the truth, Snape was going to be so angry that Harry would never have a chance with him. There was only one thing to do.

Harry shook his head. "No. I don't know anything about the love potion."

Snape's lips thinned. "Then, again, I suggest that you seat yourself."

Doing his best not to let his nervousness show, Harry crossed to the couch. With his back to Snape, he lifted his robes up and fumbled his trousers open. Bunching his robes in front of him, he sat down.

In the meantime, Snape had retrieved a vial with a mound of mustard yellow powder at the bottom. He carefully lowered himself to the cushion next to Harry. Looking pointedly at the mass of fabric over Harry's groin, he said archly. "Do get on with it."

When Harry snuck a hand under the cloth, Snape shook his head.

"You must expose it. Otherwise, it will be impossible for me to collect your ejaculate."

Harry wet his lips and Snape's eyes darted to his mouth.

"Are you sure I can't—"

"Remove your robes at once, Mr. Potter!"

Taking a deep breath, Harry tugged his robes over his head and dropped them over the arm of the couch.

He was embarrassingly hard.

And Snape was staring at him. Staring at that part of him.

Harry grew harder.

Reluctantly, Snape shifted his gaze to Harry's face and Harry winced in anticipation of Snape's scorn. Instead he heard a slightly amused "This won't take nearly as long as I anticipated."

Giving a jerky nod in reply, Harry reached for his erection, then paused. "Usually, I... I use some lotion. I don't have any with me."

"Accio lubricant!" A few seconds later, a jar flew in from the direction of Snape's bedroom. Wordlessly, he handed it over.

Opening the jar, Harry scooped some out with a finger. As he began to spread it down his shaft, the thought that this was what Snape used on himself caused Harry to let out a soft moan.

"I see you appreciate my special concoction," Snape purred close to Harry's ear.

Harry nodded. His hand encircled his cock and began to slowly stroke up and down. It wouldn't impress Snape a bit if he came too quickly.

"Notice, if you will," Snape continued, "how it warms immediately when it touches the skin. It will remain warm until washed off."

Harry had noticed, but certainly hadn't planned to comment on it. Snape's breath caressed his ear whenever he spoke, making his entire body flush with heat. Harry's hand on his cock stroked harder and faster.

"The slickness is magical. Many lubricants evaporate or may be partially absorbed, while others grow tacky. The slickness of my creation actually increases the longer one agitates it."

Harry's head dropped back onto the top of the couch and he closed his eyes. He spread his legs wider to give his hand easier access to occasionally cup his balls between strokes.

"R-r-right," Harry stuttered through panted breaths. "'s good."

There was a shift of the cushion as Snape moved closer.

"The piece de resistance, however, is what happens after it has been applied to the skin for a small matter of time."

Harry wondered what Snape was talking about when suddenly it felt as if his cock was surrounded, like something other than his hand had tightened around it and was rhythmically applying pressure.

"God! Oh, fuck!" Harry's words shattered apart, turning into incoherent pleas and raggedly groaned entreaties.

"Look at me, Harry," Snape ordered.

His hand rapidly moving on his cock, Harry forced his eyelids to open. Snape was staring at him intently,

"This lubricant is designed to replicate the feelings created by a certain something. Can you figure out what that is?"

Numbly, Harry shook his head. He was so close. So bloody close. Almost... almost...

Snape's voice dropped to a husky whisper.

"It's an eager mouth."

Harry arched and stopped breathing for a moment before shuddering hard. He was dimly aware that Snape was holding the vial and using it to catch his come as it spurted out.

For several minutes, Harry did nothing but let his overworked lungs finally gulp in the necessary oxygen, allow the muscles in his body to relax and loosen, and give his heart rate the chance to slow down to a point approaching normal.

"Quite satisfactory," Snape deemed.

Harry knew he was wearing a goofy grin, but couldn't find it in him to care. He'd just come in front of Snape and Snape had judged it as "quite satisfactory". Mentally, he wondered how many points he would've earned if he were still in Gryffindor.

Lazily, he blinked up to look at where Snape was now standing in front of him.

Standing in front of him holding a second vial.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"You didn't suppose there was only one reactionary agent, did you? You have three more vials to fill."

Harry's mouth dropped open.

"But do not be alarmed," Snape continued. "I also have a variety of lubricants available."


* * *


Harry crawled into bed at one o'clock in the morning, tired, wrists and other parts sore from overuse, but feeling happy and accomplished.

It had been the best night of his life.


* * *


It had been the worst night of Snape's life.

Snape had spent decades teaching all manner of brats. He'd spent years as a spy, hiding even his thoughts. He'd spent days being questioned by angry Aurors. Hours being tortured by Voldemort.

Having Harry Potter exposed in front of him for the duration of an evening, watching him bite his lower lip until it was bruised and swollen, studying the way Harry stroked himself until Snape could see it with his eyes closed – all without touching him, not even once - had been worse than all the torment he'd ever experienced.

After Harry had left, Snape had vowed that he wouldn't give in to the temptation. It would be beneath him.

His strength of will had last mere minutes. He soon had his pensieve out and was storing the memory of the evening in it.

Then he stuck his head in and began to relive it.


* * *


Consequently, Snape didn't get nearly enough sleep and was grumpier than usual. Idly, he wondered how many Hufflepuffs he'd make cry that day.

As he drank his morning tea while readying his Potions lab for the daily onslaught of brats, his irritation with the previous night grew. He'd thought the prospect of wanking in front of him would cause Potter to relent and tell the truth. He hadn't counted on the Gryffindor's propensity to bravely bumble onward in the face of all obstacles.

Or, perhaps, he hadn't made the obstacles quite high enough. After all, Potter was a lone participant in the evening's enterprise. It wasn't as if he'd had to do anything he didn't normally do, albeit in front of an audience. Having an audience most likely appealed to Potter's innate desire for attention.

Grimly, Snape determined that he would see Potter fold, see Potter stumble all over himself to confess the truth.

"Severus," Dumbledore said from his space on the wall, "I have seen that expression before and I do not care for it in the least. It signals that you are about to embark on a course that you are certain to regret."

Snape took another sip of tea and carefully set it down. "In this case, I will regret nothing."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, but didn't say a word.


* * *


Harry shifted in his seat as Lucius eyed him from across the table at the Leaky Cauldron. He suspected that Lucius despised the place and thought it common, but Harry felt comfortable there and it was a place where their presence together was sure to be noted.

"You look quite," Lucius paused for a moment, choosing his words meticulously, "satiated."

Harry practically jumped in his seat. He swallowed several times before speaking. "I-I-I... you can tell?"

Lucius patted his arm. "Do not be alarmed. Although obvious to the discerning observer, it is unlikely to be noticed by anyone else.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Harry slumped back into his chair.

"I am must confess that I am most curious as to the cause of your condition. The only candidate I can come up with seems unlikely at best."

"I'm not telling you who it is. You and I aren't that good of friends yet. Besides, you haven't told me about who you're seeing."

"Your relationship is still a secret so it must be relatively new. Otherwise, the press would've already discovered it and spread it across the front page."

"I thought they'd lose interest when I jettisoned my plans on becoming an Auror and opened a shop," Harry said, a touch weary. "Instead it seems to have only whetted their appetite, since bits about my life are sparser than ever."

Lucius cleared his throat. "I am not without some influence on the members of the press. If you wish, I could request that they give you some breathing space."

Harry stared at Lucius for a moment, before smiling in a way that wasn't quite admiring. "Oh, you're good. First time out together and you offer up something I want badly, knowing I'll owe you a favour in return."

"Nonsense," Lucius replied. "I am only doing what a good friend would."

"No wonder you always had the Ministry and the Hogwarts Board of Governors eating out of your hand," Harry continued.

Lucius opened his mouth to deny it once more before closing it and smirking. "I am very talented at it, aren't I?"

"Scarily so," Harry agreed.

Picking up a menu, Lucius opened it up. "Tell me, what's good to eat here?"

"Everything."

"Let me rephrase that. What, at this poor excuse for a restaurant, might I consider tolerable?"

Harry thought for a moment, before grinning. "The company?"

A smile lit Lucius' eyes. "I believe that we will get on extremely well, Mr. Potter."


* * *

Harry knocked on the door to Snape's personal rooms at precisely nine o'clock the following night.

A note had arrived by owl that morning that was short and to the point, offering no details or explanations. It had read:

(Leave a comment)