First Comes Demon

Part II

By Kat Reitz and Tzigane


Blaise sat almost stoically between Pansy and Millicent as the two women whispered back and forth.

"And then," Millicent whispered, "I heard the professor moaning! And Draco was laughing!"

"Laughing? What sort of laughter?" Pansy looked curious -- they had all seen Draco and the professor leave, but...

"Giggling," Millicent declared with a firm nod. "I can't believe the two of you didn't hear them! I'm sure that if we'd gotten in any earlier last night instead of staying out so late..."

"I think I heard them -- but, well, I just put it down to Peeves making noise," Pansy nodded. "Do you really think they were...?"

"Do we have to talk about this?" Blaise sighed.

"Yes," they both told him simultaneously.

"We want to know!" Pansy insisted.

"Hell," Millicent muttered under her breath, "I want to watch..."

"I'm not sure I would," Blaise sighed, stabbing a fork idly into his breakfast. "But I think you're both hallucinating. It was probably just the baby making noises in his sleep."

"TRUST me," Millicent informed him dryly, "NONE of those were baby noises."

"Making baby noises, maybe," Pansy muttered, face flushed. "If they could, I mean."

"Now I'm very sure I don't want to think about it. Draco's fine, but the professor...? That way...? I'd rather not, Pansy." Making baby noises indeed!

"You'll see," Pansy told him primly as a fair number of Gryffindors came in, the lot of them blurry-eyed and not quite awake. "Just you wait."

"What're you Slytherins waiting on?" Ron huffed, as he and his fellow Gryffindors moved towards a table. "Us to pass out from lack of sleep? Very funny joke..."

"What?" Blaise asked, his brows rising. "What sort of joke are you whining about, Weasel?"

"You know what sort of joke," Seamus yawned, smirking. "All of that racket. Couldn't keep Pansy quiet after dark, could you? Well," he admitted, "it didn't SOUND much like Pansy, but it couldn't have been what it did sound like, so obviously it must've been a spell or a joke," he seemed to decide.

Pansy scowled at Seamus sharply. "I don't know what you're talking about -- all three of us went into Hogsmeade last night -- in fact, you saw us leave!"

"You didn't just set up a spell beforehand?" Ron blurted out, paling. "Oh, ew. Then it really was..."

The doors to the Great Hall opened again and Draco walked in, squealing babe in arms, with Professor Snape right behind him. He paused, raising one pale brow and looking at all of the Gryffindors gathered about the Slytherin table. "Hmmm...?"

"You make a damn lot of racket!" Dean blurted out right away. It gained a barely raised brow from Snape, who veered just a little to be the first person to sit at the teacher's table.

For a moment, Draco seemed startled, and then he laughed. LAUGHED! "My GOD! I wonder how he managed it?" he asked himself, grinning down at Damon. "It seems, sweet demon, that the Gryffindors have been kept up most of the night..."

"Most of the night would be no exaggeration," Ron pouted, glaring at the bruises on Draco's throat. "Slimy git."

"Poor pitiful bastard," Draco returned with easy amusement.

"I am not!" Ron growled, even as Harry wrapped a hand around his upper arm, and pulled him backwards.

"Ron, come on..."

"YOU saw," Draco drawled to Blaise as he seated himself, Damon balanced upon his lap and staring up at the head table. "He started it. Bad habit, that, as he can rarely finish it."

"I'm half as confused as they are," Blaise admitted, looking at the baby for a moment, and then following the child's gaze -- right up to Snape, who was talking almost silently with Minerva, who seemed quite displeased.

"How so?" Draco asked, looking at him with honest curiosity even as he began to delve into the bowl of scrambled eggs set out before his plate, serving himself easily even with his arms full.

"Well, the noises from your room last night, Draco," Millicient hedged.

"OH," Draco said, unable to resist a smirk. "THOSE."

"Yes," Pansy agreed. "Those! What was that all about, Draco?"

"What do you think it was all about, Pansy-love?" came the sardonic reply.

"I think you and the Professor were--" Pansy ended up cut off by a cruel nudge in the ribs by Blaise, who went back to stoically eating his bacon.

Unable to help himself, Draco grinned, biting into a crisp piece of bacon while trying not to laugh. "You were saying, before Blaise's elbow seems to have bruised you?" he asked teasingly, shaking his head. "Really, Pansy. Yes. All right?"

"Oh, my," Millicent said, fanning her face. "I told you so."

"That simple?" Pansy asked. "Just... just like that?"

Slim shoulders shrugged the answer as Draco delved into his eggs.

"It's really quite none of our business," Blaise sighed to the two women at the table, not, he realized, that they were likely to pay him any attention.

"Don't spoil things for us," Millicent scowled, firmly kicking him beneath the table. "Or I'll make that bacon of yours into a pig!"

"You should both be nicer to poor Blaise," Draco informed them. "He's really quite right. It's no one's business but mine and the Professor's and perhaps Damon's..."

For a moment, the baby bobbled atop his lap, and then simply went back to peering over at the head table.

"And everyone else who heard you last night," Blaise drawled.

"Well, there's that, too," Draco agreed with a smirk. "I didn't think we were THAT noisy. Damon didn't even roll over 'til six this morning, did you, sweet demon?"

Damon cooed up at his father, little hands waving in the air to grasp a hold of him after a moment.

"Well, the Gryffindors heard you," Millicent murmured, "As did I."

"And I thought that was just an idle threat!" Draco muttered under his breath. "Well, I'm sure it irritated the lot of them. Good for me," he decided with a vicious smirk that he cast in the general direction of the Gryffindor table. It looked as though most of them were about to fall over in their oatmeal!

Funny. After all, he felt refreshed and wonderful, not so groggy as they looked -- and he'd been the one making at least half the noises all night. Then again, that might have had something to do with the potion Severus had retrieved from his room on the way up.

Might have.

It also might have a great deal to do with the fact that he'd gotten what he'd wanted for at least half of his life, now -- namely, one Professor Severus Snape, if not wildly in love with him, then at least in his bed for the time being. The rest could come later, he decided.

"So," Draco began, "what does that fluffy headed Mudblood have on the agenda for today?"

"Probably a nap during lunch," Blaise risked, before he pulled out his copy of the schedule. "A water-balloon fight, this morning, more socializing, a Quidditch game, more socializing, there are rumblings about a swim, and a dance this evening."

Draco made a face. "I suppose, as few of us as there are, they plan to fairly stomp us into the mud at Quidditch... ESPECIALLY with Potter-the-Seeker over there," he drawled. "With just the four of us, they're likely right."

"Are you up to sitting on a broom today?" Blaise drawled at him. "We might be only three, if you're not..."

The two women laughed as color suffused Draco's face despite the smirk. "I assure you," he drawled, "I'm more than up to it." Well, he was sore, and he was fairly certain he might be walking a bit funny after what they'd done this morning, but he could still sit a broom!

If he was careful about it, that is.

"Perhaps we could ask the professor...?" Pansy asked. "Would he even..."

"We could ask," Draco agreed, "though I'm not sure what he would say. And there's always Professor Sinestra, as well..." She had also been a member of House Slytherin, so it would be acceptable. "Pansy, have you ever played?" Millicent had been a beater their last year at Hogwarts and Blaise had been keeper for the last three, but he didn't believe Pansy had ever done anything more than cheer from the sidelines. In point of fact, he wasn't even certain about her flying skills!

"No..." She looked a bit sheepish, "which was why I was wondering if the professor would play -- so it wouldn't just be three."

"That's just what I was afraid of," Draco sighed. "Sweet demon, I'm only sorry you aren't old enough to play as yet..."

His son, who seemed to be a bit fidgety that morning, snugged against his shoulder and chest, burbling softly.

"Well, at least we know that in twelve years or so our house will have one good player," Blaise shrugged. "Your father was good, too, wasn't he...?" But Draco was probably out of practice -- the idea of a Quidditch game was absurd, given that most the people, with the exception of Potter, hadn't played in years.

It must've been his idea, the little show-off.

"Won the cup all seven of his years at Hogwarts," Draco answered dryly, shaking his head. Lucius had rubbed it in, too, and they'd had quite the fight over whether or not he'd get a Firebolt after Potter had gotten his. Draco had gotten one, of course, and after that, the odds had been evened out once again. It wasn't that Draco wasn't every bit as good as Potter -- it was just that the damned Gryffindor seemed to lead a charmed life. It was frustrating, but Slytherin had still won the Cup his last year at Hogwarts, and Lucius had been unbearably proud.

"Well, we should put on a good fight today, just to show them that we still can," Millicent decided.

"I hope we drown Weasel during the water-fight," Blaise nodded sharply.

"Let's make a point of it," Draco agreed. "Him and Potter. Shame he's not as nice as Fred and George..." He'd actually been rather fond of the twins, but they'd been much nicer than Ron had been when they were children. "And I'll ask the Professor about the game later..." He grinned. "He wasn't on the team when he was in school, though."

"We're doomed," Blaise decided, giving up on finishing his breakfast. "He refereed, didn't he...? So he has to be a pretty good flyer..."

"He can stay on a broom, if that's what you're asking, but Father said that he couldn't get the Quaffle..." He paused, snickered at the sudden allusion, shook his head. "Um, get the Quaffle to the goal for trying."

"I'd say he hasn't got any problems getting it there now," Pansy told him dryly. She got another elbow for her trouble, from her husband again, but laughed it off.

"Pansy can't even stay on broom, so it's one or the other..."

Their comments rose up and died just in time for Hermione Potter to approach the table. "Good morning, Blaise, Draco, Pansy, Millicent -- how're you?"

"Just magnificent," Draco assured her with a smug little smile. "And what might we do for you this brilliant Saturday morning, Mrs. Potter?"

"I just wanted to see if you're all enjoying yourselves," she asked quite innocently.

"Indubitably," Millicent drawled, looking at her suspiciously as Draco went back to eating his breakfast. "Getting a few good laughs in while we're at it. I assume Perfect Potter will be playing Seeker later today?"

"Goalkeeper," she smiled. "Just to even things up a bit -- it's not really supposed to be house against house since there aren't enough to do it properly. Will you be playing in the game, Draco? I'm sure someone would watch over your son for you..."

"I have Dobby with me," he said, shifting Damon carefully, the little boy squealing with delight. "I'm sure he'll do quite well for the time we'll be playing. If it isn't house against house, how will it be set up?"

"Mixed houses -- we should probably figure out the exact teams once the post breakfast game is over."

"Water balloons, Gr... Potter?" Draco asked, looking at her with a bit of a sneer. "We aren't children..."

"I think, that deep inside of you, Draco... You still are." And with that, she brought the water balloon she'd had behind her back down upon his head, bursting it in a shower of wet that made Damon squeal.

Unable to help himself, he stared at her, mouth open for a moment before sputtering out, "You.. You... YOU BITCH!"

"Language!" And with that, she was off -- along with the rest of the Gryffindors, who seemed to have been the only people expecting it.

Well, they and Dumbledore, who gave a delighted chuckle, and announced, "You'll find a supply under your table, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, Slytherin! Points will be kept track of!"

"I'm going to get that woman," Draco snarled, standing up and stomping towards the head table. He deposited Damon with Severus without another word, the damp baby chortling with glee, and headed to get as many of the balloons as he could carry -- and with a fair use of his wand, even more.

Severus blinked for a few moments, then withdrew his own wand to dry Damon off, while Albus laughed. At him!

"It's not at all amusing, Albus..." A water-balloon sang past his head, and he barely twisted away. "I saw that, Evans!!"

"Oh, no," Dumbledore disagreed, holding his belly as he laughed again. "I think it very funny indeed!"

The war was on, and while there were more Gryffindors than any of the other houses thanks to the morning's late addition of Lavender and Parvati, it didn't seem to help them very much. A quick request to the Bloody Baron gained Slytherin Peeves, and Draco, it seemed, had decided that magic was best for aerial attacks upon the frizzy head of Hermione, who just kept giggling despite his best efforts.

Water balloon fights were often dirty, underhanded things -- and though there may have only been four of them, the attending Slytherins prided themselves in being very dirty and underhanded when it suited them.

Disguising water balloons as part of a footpath, for example, proved to be Neville's undoing. The useful application of a little needle-sharp magic every time Lavender and Parvati went to pick up a balloon was also an excellent way of staying ahead.

Severus and the other professors, unable to participate, along with Dumbledore, watched from the astronomy tower as most of the fight made its way outside. Damon was burbling, and surveying the other professors calmly, Minerva among them. She didn't make him scream, nor did any of the other women, but he frowned at them a little, and kept hiding his face against Snape's collar.

It was all in all strange for Severus -- it was going to take time to become accustomed.

"Babysitting now, Severus?" Minerva was obviously quite put out that her Gryffindors weren't doing as well as they might have. Potter had taken to flying around to use the same tactics the Slytherins were achieving with Peeves and Draco's magic, but it wasn't doing much good, as Blaise managed to keep most of those balloons from bursting upon them by sending them hurting towards the Hufflepuffs.

Those poor, besotted Hufflepuffs...

"Haven't you ever done it, Minerva?" he asked her blandly. Damon was 'hiding' again, except for one tiny hand that had wrapped itself tightly into his hair.

"Rarely," she drawled even as Trelawney sighed from behind her. Minerva detested Sybill.

"Oh, what a very bleak outcome I see before me!" she declared almost tearfully.

"Yes," Minerva sniped. "You see four Slytherins managing to defeat no less than eight Gryffindors! How they're managing it, I can't tell!"

"Wit," he drawled, looking coldly over to her, eyebrow cocked. It was less threatening with a babe in his arms, though he had no idea that was so. "You should teach your house that. It works wonders in reality."

"Huh," she said, trying not to snicker at him. She failed miserably, unable to help herself. "Oh, dear."

"Precisely." Albus was still chuckling.

"Do tell me what's so entertaining?" he drawled calmly, turning his attention back to the window for a moment to watch Harry fly right into a hovering water balloon.

"The great and cranky Severus Snape holding a baby who happens to adore him," Flitwick giggled. "Oh, look! There goes another one, right in poor Harry's face!"

The potions master snorted, watching Harry's broom plummet for too short a time, before he hauled it back up and zipped off to catch whoever had done it to him.

"Your house is down, Minerva." And his was up, up, up... And Flitwick's comment wasn't going to get a reply.

"Oh, that's not fair! Millicent has stolen half of their remaining balloons!" Minerva cried.

"All's fair in love, war, Quidditch and water balloons," Madame Hooch disagreed wryly as Draco's bloom flew wildly from inside the castle to come into his hand so that he could hurtle up to keep pace with Potter.

"We should be playing Quidditch by house," Minerva muttered under her breath. "It would be just as fair..."

"To your house, perhaps. You've a star seeker, after all," Snape was quick to point out.

"And enough players to make up a team," Sinestra added.

"But Malfoy's here, and he was good competition for Harry before," Flitwick pointed out.

"And Harry is a professional player -- Draco writes potions articles. Let us think for a moment who's more practiced..."

"In other words, Slytherin might be winning the water balloon fight, but they couldn't possibly win at Quidditch," Minerva announced smugly. "Particularly if we did play with our own houses!"

Flitwick simply smiled. His own Ravenclaws weren't doing so badly; they'd actually gotten more hits against the Slytherins than the Gryffindors had, and Padma had just managed to drench young Draco -- again. "Goodness, this is fun!"

"Certainly the best reunion we've had to suffer through in years," Sprout agreed, waving at Damon during the moment where he peeked up from Severus's shoulder. "Severus, are we going to be seeing a great deal of this young child around the school...?"

"I haven't any idea what you're talking about," he denied rather calmly, watching Draco cast a drying spell on himself before returning the favor.

"Oh, no," Minerva said, unable to keep a straight face. "Of course you don't know anything about the racket that kept the vast majority of Gryffindor Tower up all night, much less the noise that woke me just after six this morning. That certainly wasn't you, was it, Severus?"

"That noise?" he asked blandly, looking over his shoulder at her, with a perfectly deadpan expression on his face. "Why, no -- that noise was Mr. Malfoy."

Minerva nearly choked on that.

"Goodness, Severus," Dumbledore said with great amusement, thumping McGonagall on the back. "Do be more careful when you say such things. I do believe Minerva had just been about to swallow."

"Only one balloon left!" Hooch announced excitedly. "Malfoy has got it!"

Severus looked back to the grounds again, to see Draco, on his broom, zipping right over the head of Ron Weasley -- and landing it perfectly atop the red head's skull.

Malfoy had *definitely* got it.

"All wet, Weasel?" he yelled, laughing to himself as he rose up above Ron's shaking fist and growled threats. "My. I do believe we must have won."

"Cheaters!" Ron howled. "You bloody bastard snake-hearted cheaters!!!"

"How you play the game isn't important, Weasel!" Blaise yelled. "It's whether you win or lose!" There were only four Slytherins, it was true, but they were making a hell of a lot of noise -- there was no way they could have lost, and they knew it!

"Merlin, you still all piss the living hell out of me!" he snarled, tapping himself with his wand to dry himself, before he stormed off to find his fellow house members.

"Sore loser, still," Draco remarked, shaking his head as he settled down beside his House members. "Shame, that."

"That was fun," Pansy admitted, leaning into Blaise a little. "ARE we 'scheduled' to do anything else until the game later...?"

"More 'socializing'. I don't know that any of the Gryffindors are up to being social, however," Blaise replied with a visible smirk.

"Not right now, they aren't," Millicent grinned. "We should probably talk to some of the Hufflepuffs about joining for a team."

"Erm..." Considering that Blaise had spent a fair bit of time rerouting Potter's balloons to hit the Hufflepuffs...

"Better to try the Ravenclaws, then," Draco suggested as they headed back into the Great Hall, which was now dry -- magically, he was sure, as Filch would probably have had them all in detention otherwise, despite the fact that they were grown.

The Gryffindors seemed to have retreated completely, which was all right, since they certainly didn't miss them. The teachers filtered in, too, and Severus headed for the Slytherin table with Sinestra beside him. Damon started to wriggle when he saw Draco.

From the head table, Dumbledore cleared his throat and announced, "It seems that the Slytherins are the overall winners for the day!" It brought on a fair amount of cheers from the handful of students who were Slytherin, but very little from anyone else.

"Thank you," Draco told Severus with a brilliant smile as Damon passed from his arms and into those of his father, squealing with delight.

"He was quite good," Severus told him, though it didn't need to be said -- because they both knew that Damon was a good child, calm and happy very often. "It's refreshing to see the spirit of the house carried out properly."

Unable to resist it any longer, Draco leaned up and kissed Snape full on the mouth, lingering a moment over it before the yelps and laughter of his fellow Slytherins (and no few disconcerted gasps and cries from the other Houses) caught his attention again. "Um..."

Severus Snape simply licked his bottom lip, and murmured, "Apparently I taught you wit, but not tact, Draco."

"Oh, well," Professor Sinestra stammered.

"Or you just defy anything I have resembling self-control," Draco said by way of agreement.

"God knows THAT'S true!" Minerva yelled from the head table.

"Tea, Mr. Malfoy, and not a moment sooner," Severus half-way admonished, though he licked his lip again as he turned back towards the head-table, leaving Damon mournfully watching him go.

"Wow," was all Draco had to say for himself, grinning almost besottedly after the man.

"He's got it bad," Millicent sighed.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "He's had it bad for years, just hasn't gotten anywhere with it until now."

"How do you know that?" Pansy asked, once Sinestra decided to trail Snape up to the table.

"We did sleep in the same room for seven years," Blaise drawled, sitting down to breakfast, which had once again actually appeared on the table as none of them had finished before Hermione had decked Draco with that balloon. Obviously he wasn't going to give anything more than that away -- especially not the fact that they'd slept together, even if it had only been once.

"Oh, that must've been interesting," Pansy chuckled, darting a glance over to Draco and Damon. "Are you flinging, or...?"

"No, I'm not slumming," Draco replied, sitting down to his own breakfast -- again. "I'm after a great deal more than that."

"A father for your son?" Millicent suggested, at the very moment that Damon leaned forwards and put a hand down in the scrambled eggs.

"Are you implying," Draco said a little coolly, "that I am not his father, but his mum!?"

"Well, it's clear that you are," Pansy smiled. "After all, you wove him for months and months, didn't you?"

"But it's not the same!" Draco protested, looking just a tad panicky at the thought. "I mean, I didn't... I'm not...!!!"

And worse, Blaise was laughing at him. It didn't get any better when Damon settled back, squishing a fistful of eggs and trying to get Draco's attention.

Pansy was quick to point out, "But, you did, Draco. And look at the darling result."

"Yes, smearing eggs all over," Draco said grumpily, lower lip pouting. "I am your father," he informed Damon solemnly, wiping his hands clean of egg. "You can't eat that, so what do you want with it?"

Clutching fists seemed to say that he wanted to do just what he'd been doing -- making a small mess. Large grey eyes threatened to melt him entirely, before Blaise's voice broke in. "Well, at least you don't baby talk the boy."

"I actually rather think that might be what disturbs him about everyone else," Draco agreed, wiping those little hands clean with care despite the look he was getting. "Professor Snape doesn't, either, and that seems to suit Damon quite well."

"I'd wager you didn't like it, either?" Pansy almost smirked.

"I'd wager Father wouldn't allow anyone to even try it," Draco replied with a laugh. After all, Father had taught him no less than three foreign languages and all of the Hogwarts beginning spells before he was five. It seemed something that his father would do!

"It's quite a chore, though, to raise a child by oneself..." Millicent smirked. "Which might be why..."

"Why...?" Draco prompted.

She flicked eyes up to the head table, from which Snape was half-watching Draco. "Why..."

"Oh, no," he said, eyes gleaming. "That's purely selfish."

The words brought a hoot of laughter from Blaise, and Pansy shook her head at him. "Damon," she addressed the baby, "your father is quite mad. Charming, of course. He's always been charming. But utterly insane."

Damon just wrinkled his tiny nose at her discouragingly.

"I think you're going to break your own heart, Draco Malfoy," Millicent chided. "You've set yourself up to fall."

"We'll see," Draco said firmly, moving to stand up from the table. "And on that note, I suspect Damon will want a morning's nap..." And he might as well have one, too, all things considered. It was much better than 'socializing'. "Quidditch is after lunch, is it not?"

"Don't miss it." Blaise seemed all right with letting him get up, pick Damon up, and leave, while the two girls wanted to talk and talk and talk...

"Wouldn't dream of it," Draco drawled over the voices of Pansy and Millicent. "Five galleons says Potter ends up Seeker after all this afternoon. They'll be itching to beat us, now."

"Sore losers," Blaise agreed, giving a dismissive wave to his fellow Slytherin. "You'll have to be ours. I'll find a couple of Ravenclaws."

"We'll see if I don't fuck it up too badly," Draco agreed, and headed off to lay Damon down for his morning's nap.


"You've got to be seeker, Harry," Ron wheedled, pacing the floor of the commons room. "Have to! We can't let those slimy, cheating Slytherins win!"

"Well, but it's not really fair. Winning's only good if you do it fairly," Harry disagreed, biting his lip.

"They didn't win fairly," Ron muttered.

"Well, nothing was off limits, so they did, Ron," Hermione pointed out a bit quietly. Not that she was happy Draco had drenched her the entire time.

"Still. We'd be much more likely to win if Harry would agree to be Seeker," Ron said again, shaking his head.

"He's right, y'know," Seamus agreed. "We would. We can't just sit back and let them beat us, can we?"

"And they'll win if Harry doesn't play Seeker," Ron said firmly. "Though we might have an advantage over Draco's team..."

"Yeah, we've got more people," Dean snickered. "Saw 'em trying to recruit Ravenclaws. The other houses have all got enough to play for themselves."

"That's kind of sad..." Neville said thoughtfully.

"There are only four of them," Harry agreed after a moment of thought. "And even if they were the best, they'd still be out of practice..."

"Oh, come on, Harry!" Ron pleaded again. "Honestly. We have extras. We can give them Lavender and Parvati or something!" Even Ron had to admit that those two would be about as useful as Pansy, which was to say not at all.

"What, we don't get a say on what team we play for?" Lavender huffed.

"Pansy might as well be an extra," Harry pointed out. "Don't worry -- Ron's just shooting the breeze. He's miffed, for some reason." The reason was, God help most of them, obvious. He'd made a play for Draco and had it rebuffed, and Severus SNAPE had actually managed what he'd tried. It didn't make for a very good day.

"At any rate," Hermione said a bit loudly, "it's better to do it fairly! It is," she insisted, nodding at them all.

"Still doesn't tell me what position I'm playing," Harry groused.

"Well, it's really up to you, isn't it, Harry?" Seamus said with a shrug. "We've got a chance at winning one way, and will definitely win the other. Pound them into the dirt, I say."

"I think I'd rather play keeper," he decided after a moment, "because it's just not fair to anyone that I play seeker."

"Then that means we need a Seeker," Ron announced glumly.

"I'd fall off my broom," Neville denied rather more quickly than was necessary.

"I can't play well at all," Hermione admitted, while the two other girls made agreeing noises. "Seamus...? Dean...?"

"Might as well draw straws amongst the lot of us," Dean said with a shrug. "One's as good as the next, I'm betting."

"Harry, you have to be seeker. Just... just, use a shitty broom!" Ron suggested quickly.

"It just wouldn't be fair," Harry excused with a shrug. "Not to Slytherin or to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw when we play them, either."

"But, but..." But he'd wanted to see Draco trounced royally, after a hurtful blow to his pride. Snape, of all people! The daft professor probably didn't even know he was being used to rub Ron's face in it, the Weasley was sure. How could anyone want that nasty, greasy bastard, after all? /I mean... IT'S SNAPE!/ he thought to himself, just a little on the wrong side of queasy at the mere notion. What on earth could possess that gorgeous damned Malfoy to offer him great head? There wasn't a single great thing about the potions master, unless one counted the size of his nose, and that wasn't anything to get worked up over... "...fine. Seamus, you should probably fly Seeker."

"All right," Seamus said with a shrug. "That'll make you a beater, then, and I reckon one of the girls or Neville...?"

"Lavender...?" Anyone, ANYONE other than Neville!

"I'll try it," Parvati said with misgivings.

"And that'd leave Neville and Dean for Chasers, then, because none of the other houses will be able to come up with more than six players, I'm sure," Hermione announced smugly. Thank GOD she wasn't going to be on a broom, though she rather thought she'd have a better chance than he would.

"No!" Neville disagreed. "Hermione, I'm MISERABLE on a broom, you know. Better that you do it!"

"He's got a point," Harry murmured to his wife. "You could play a chaser better than Neville -- no offense meant."

"None taken!" Neville hurried to say, relieved that he might not have to play at all.

"But Harry..." Hermione began. "I don't know anything at all about Quidditch, really, I've never played..."

"You've read, and watched enough games," Ron broke in. "And I'm sure Harry's taught you some tricks..." As long as Neville wasn't playing, then the man couldn't endanger them by being up on a broom.

"Oh, well..." She was obviously weakening.

"If I can pretend to be a beater, you're brave enough to pretend at being a Chaser, Hermione," Parvati told her with an unaccustomed frankness.

"And, it's not like the other team has more than one person who isn't pretending," Neville added.

"So we're still ahead, likely," Ron said with a firm nod. "I want to grind them into the dirt!"

"You're vicious today, Ron," Harry murmured, moving towards his friend. "How about -- Ron, how about you and I go for a walk, hmn?"

With a sigh, Ron pushed up from his chair, glancing over at Harry wryly. He was almost certain what Harry was going to say, and after so many years of being friends, he was getting better at just giving in to things. "All right," he agreed, heading for the portrait hole.

Harry was quiet until they were in the empty hallway. "So, why the sudden intense hatred of one Draco Malfoy, Ron?"

Ron sighed, leaning back against the wall and tilting his head to the side. "He still riles me," he admitted. "And it's probably still for the same reason..." Even though he didn't want to admit that, and he grimaced at the thought.

"What reason's that?" Harry probed carefully. He didn't want to set Ron off, but his vindictiveness was fit to rival a Slytherin that day.

"Other than the fact that I humiliated myself coming on to him last night? Though," he sighed, "I can't see how anyone ELSE resisted on the basis of the shirt alone..."

"Well, the idea of having Draco Malfoy's lips wrap around me is... far from appealing," Harry smirked a little. "Maybe you just had the bad luck of crossing whatever signals he was trying to send... ugh, Snape."

Unable to help himself, Ron did laugh, even if he was flushed a little. "Maybe so... But that's what I don't get. I mean... SNAPE??"

"Who knows why? I'd suppose... that they can stand each other when no one else could or would." And Draco's child -- which even he could admit was adorable -- looked to Snape with a gaze that his own children gave him.

Ron groaned. "All right, so I'll quit being such a venomous git about it, I suppose. Must be sounding like one of them if you'd take me aside for it."

"You've been sounding like Malfoy on a bad day, Ron," his best friend pointed out.

"Thanks," the redhead said sarcastically. "I feel better about it now. I still want to kick the lot of them in the ass, though."

"Same reason as two minutes ago, or a new one...?" Harry drawled at him, pausing for the moment to lean against the wall.

"General principle," Ron informed him, blue eyes shining with amusement.

"Of course. It wouldn't be jealousy, or an itch for revenge..." He was already turning back down the hall, to go to the commons room.

His friend just grinned at him, though. "Even if it was... I think it's a little excusable, no?" He laughed. "We'll see if they get anybody else to fill in for them. Hey, wonder if they'll manage to talk the professors onto brooms...??"

"I'd like to see them play each other," Harry grinned back, "though I've got a sneaking suspicion that Madam Hooch would be the only one who can play."

Unable to help himself, Ron snickered. "Can you imagine McGonagall...?"

"Sprout. Imagine Sprout."

And it was on that note that they slipped back into the commons room.


"Please?" It was a word that he hated to use, but he didn't see that he had any choice. "Please? I'll do ANYTHING. Anything!" Draco promised.

"Draco..." Anything, well, he'd already had a few promises for that, in pre daylight hours. Severus twisted his fingers together thoughtfully, looking over at the other Slytherin. "No. Because I haven't played in years."

"You could just sit your broom and occasionally bat at something," Draco wheedled pleadingly. "When I say anything, I mean anything, Professor...." Well. He was a Slytherin, after all...

"You want me to play a beater? I prefer to not have my nose snapped off, Mr. Malfoy." He leaned forwards in his chair, nearer to Draco, and reached a hand out to cup Draco's cheek. "I'd be as dangerous as Mr. Longbottom, I believe."

"Maybe you could try something else?" Draco asked a little hopefully, damned near MELTING. Four o'clock seemed forever away! "We couldn't talk any of the other houses into helping out. They'll stomp us."

"None of them...?" He sounded doubtful, as he leaned in a little more, fingers starting a languid caress. "I find it hard to believe."

"Couldn't... convince them," the blond man breathed, teeth lightly catching his lower lip for a moment. Oh, to be touched that way, by him... "They've all got just enough for House teams."

The hand withdrew a little, to drag sensitive fingerpads along the underside of Draco's chin. "I'll convince Professor Sinestra -- we can play a six-man team, after all."

"I owe you," Draco managed to get out, smiling almost stupidly. He was going to melt, just melt, and that was all there was to it. "Going to collect afterwards?"

"Tea-time," the potions master assured, leaning just a bit more, and halfway getting up, to press a kiss against Draco's mouth. "Exactly four o'clock."

"You know, I..." No. It wasn't time yet, and Damon's gleeful gurgle from where he lay on a pallet on the floor at least caught the words. "Really REALLY hope we at least don't let them thrash us entirely. But even if we do..." He grinned. "That's all right, too. I'll still owe you."

"It's not often that one gets a chance to lose to an international Quidditch star, is it?" Severus asked in amusement, as he got up from his chair. "I have to find my broom, and talk to Sinestra."

"I'll see you after lunch," Draco promised, and picked up Damon and his blanket to head up to the Grand Hall. It was almost time to eat, anyway, and as they'd both had naps and he'd given Damon his bottle, they were at least ready to face the trouncing they were undoubtedly going to get.

Damon was making happy sounds near his ear, as they walked to the Hall, though those noises stopped abruptly when Draco crossed near Ron.

"Have you gotten a full team yet, Malfoy...?"

"I've managed, Weasel," he said breezily, pausing for a moment to sneer. "I do hope it will at least keep Potter's attention for a moment or three before he catches the Snitch."

"He's playing Keeper," Ron told Draco. He eyed Damon, half-wondering how the little brat could take one look at a person and decide whether he liked them or not. Babies just couldn't do that, could they...? "So you've got half a chance."

/Only if Longbottom's playing,/ Draco thought, nodding before heading to the Slytherin table. God knows Severus could fly... Lucius had said as much. On the other hand, he was hopeless for scoring...

"Well?" Blaise asked. "Did you talk him into it?"

"He's going to ask Sinestra, as well," Draco said with a little smile.

"I don't think it was that he *talked* Snape into it," Pansy smirked. "But thank you, Draco -- what'd you have to wager for it...? Your soul?"

"Afternoon tea," Draco informed them all primly.

"I refuse to go back to the dungeon this afternoon," Millicent said, shaking her head.

"At least we aren't Gryffindors," Blaise answered with a grin. "Professor Snape seems to take some delight in whatever he did to make sure they heard everything last night."

"You should ask him what spell it is," Pansy murmured with a quirk of her eyebrows. "Because we've neighbors that deserve a taste of that sort of thing, haven't we, Blaise?"

"Oh, LORD, Pansy!"

"I doubt I'd get an answer," Draco replied, watching the head table. It seemed that Sinestra was going to give in more easily than he had thought, and that made him smile. "Well. That gets us six, then. Pansy, just sit your broom and let Millicent take care of the bludgers, if you can. I hope to Merlin Sinestra will be able to handle the Quaffle."

"Well, we've got two broomsitters, and maybe four who can play... at least we've got a full enough team," Blaise murmured, following Draco's gaze. Sinestra gave a slight nod to them -- she'd given in. "Do you think the Gryffindors did this on purpose, knowing that we'd barely have enough...?"

"More like do you think they wouldn't?" Draco said dryly, raising a single eyebrow. "The Weasel has it in for me for some reason or other. You'd think he'd have outgrown that..."

"Fred and George haven't outgrown their childishness," Millicent pointed out to the table.

"Yes," Pansy agreed, "but Fred and George make money off of theirs."

"And at least they're pleasant about it -- that's ambition, there," Blaise murmured, shaking his head a little. "And you know very well why Weasley has it in for you -- we all saw him trying to pick you up last night."

Helplessly, Draco shrugged, though he seemed sly about it. "It isn't my fault he picked up on the wrong signals, now is it?" he asked, smirking.

"You should've just worn a shirt that read 'Fuck me, Snape'," Millicent smirked, leaning her elbows on the table. "You weren't very subtle."

"Subtlety is overrated," Draco replied. "Occasionally, one needs a bludger bat to get one's point across. Really, I'm not sure how Weasley missed that it wasn't pointed at him," he shrugged.

"Well, he did date Parvati for a long time before she married that Ravenclaw," Pansy noted, nodding towards them. They were talking amicably -- very Gryffindor of them. "Not exactly something that's likely to provide one with the subtleties of attraction and sex, is it? I mean, they *are* Gryffindors. Bravery is all well and good, but it's often equated with stupidity for a reason. Stepping in where angels fear to tread and all that..."

"Because they haven't got the sense to not step in," Blaise agreed. "Subtlety is something that their house just doesn't stress -- it's probably viewed as underhandedness."

"We're going to have to be extra devious to keep them from stomping us flat," Draco sighed. "Professor Snape couldn't score worth a damn thirty years ago. I sincerely doubt it'll be any better now..." /Dearly as I love him,/ he thought wryly as Damon giggled and clutched tightly at his neck.

"I wouldn't expect it of a potions master," Millicent shrugged. She'd already learned well enough to give up on trying to interact with Damon at all, because the baby hated women. "It's not a very physical activity, after all..."

"Neither is writing articles about them," Draco pointed out with a shrug of his own. "We'll just do our best. D'you think if we spike their pumpkin juice, they'll all be drunk enough to fall right off of their brooms?"

"That, Draco Malfoy, is a bloody brilliant idea," Blaise smirked suddenly, darting a glance over to the Gryffindors. "Let's do it."

"They'll suspect me. Pansy-love..." Draco wheedled.




"Please?" Blaise added his own begging to the pile.

"....all right."

There was just the matter of her getting over there. And with something to spike the pumpkin juice with... "If you'll excuse me, I'll go talk to the house-elves. I think..." She looked at Draco, and winked, "I think I've just remembered an allergy that they'd best know about."

"This is going to be awfully amusing," Draco said softly, and Damon squealed with indisputable glee. "I can't wait."

Pansy stalked out of the hall, looking most unsuspicious as she went, and then disappeared to head down into the kitchens.

"Best plan we've ever had," Blaise grinned.

The heavy weight of black eyes lay upon Draco and he turned to smile innocently at Severus, tilting his head to the side. "He's not buying it," he informed Blaise, shrugging. "He knows."

"Think he'll do anything about it?" Millicent asked.

"You never know..."

Black eyes watched all three of them, but mostly Draco -- even if no one else was suspicious, Severus was. Then his eyes looked away, and he murmured something to Sinestra.

"I hope he doesn't."

Still, Draco couldn't help but consider the possible consequences. How could he not? After all, it wasn't as if he could take off points from their house for it, and it wasn't as if it was really all that dangerous -- after all, they let Hagrid fly, and the man was positively soused as often as not.

He stayed seated where he was, though, and didn't say a word to Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall. It seemed, when Pansy came back, waving slight to Damon, at the same time that Lunch appeared on the tables, that they were all right.

"Whew." It was a relieved breath that he let go, grinning wildly at Blaise, who was looking just as pleased across the table.

"Off like a charm," Pansy whispered. "I found a bottle of FireWhiskey and slipped it to the house-elves to take care of. They won't know 'til they're on their brooms."

"Now let's just pray they don't run into any of us," Millicent muttered.

"None of it's in our juice, is it?" Blaise asked, darting a look at his wife. She might very well have fouled it up...

"Do I look completely incompetent to you?" she asked him sharply. "I spoke with Dobby."

"Oh, Lord," Draco muttered. "You don't know how he is about 'Mr. Harry Potter Sir!' then, do you? I'd suggest NOT drinking. Just in case."

"Any way we can tell the Professor? Both of them...?" He glanced up to the head table, where Snape was already taking a sip from his glass. "Because if Dobby's that way, everyone's glass is probably tainted."

"I'd say it's too late," Draco sighed, grimacing slightly. "I'll go ask Dobby about it, instead. Shit..."

"Your son is going to know more curse-words than real words," Millicent pointed out.

"Who cares -- Draco, get moving!" Blaise hissed.

"Actually...." Draco paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Hm. If we let all of them drink it, and then slip something by way of a sobering potion to just the professors before we play...." he suggested slowly.

"... Then no one would be any wiser," Pansy finished softly. "That's even better. So, we'll just have to sit and wait."

"Actually, I have to slip out and do a little work if we're going to be sure that they're sober later," Draco murmured, peeking at Damon. "Shall we have a change, then, sweet demon? That would explain a bit of time away from lunch, don't you think?" His son's little blond head bobbled gleefully, a squeal sounding most approving of that plan. "Devious brat," Draco announced with no small amount of pleasure.

That was just how he wanted his son to turn out, after all, and the babe was clearly well on the way to being just that. Damon settled back down to cooing and gurgling when his father got up from the table -- this time, Snape's eyes were on him the entire walk from table to door.

He was going to be very, very lucky if he didn't get caught, he realized, and he bit his lip as he headed towards the dungeons. What would the professor say? Better yet, what would he do? An assault of nerves was making him queasy, and it was just as well that he'd stopped eating, all things considered. "Well, sweet demon. Either we're impressive or we're in trouble," he murmured, "and I suppose we'll find out very shortly either way!"

The baby in his arms clung a little closer, cooing. It was probably to himself, that babble, but his father could draw solace from it. After all, Severus knew that Draco was a brat -- he wouldn't just... stop, and leave, because of that.

Would he?

/It's a little late to be fretting now, Draconis Lucius Malfoy,/ he thought to himself crankily as he stepped into the potions classroom. What he would need would be in the students' cabinet, he had no doubt. He just wondered how long it would be before Severus caught him at it, as was quite inevitable. "Well, sweet demon. Let's get you changed before we start, shall we?"

Damon cooed again as he was laid down on a worktable, and Draco called a new diaper to his hands, to put on his baby beneath the thin summer-weight 'robe' he wore. It didn't take long, though Draco couldn't imagine the trouble such an act gave muggles!

He was laughing and tickling lightly at Damon's belly when Severus walked in no more than two minutes later. /Caught in the act,/ he thought to himself, though he gave no sign of noticing. "There, there, sweet demon. All clean and powdered and smelling like a Malfoy had ought. Well... perhaps not. But nice, all the same."

"What, exactly, are you up to, Mr. Malfoy?" Severus asked, over the sound of Damon's soft giggles.

"Just at this particular moment or some other particular moment?" Draco asked lightly, glancing back, argent eyes meeting ebony.

"Some particular moment in the future where you were planning on using my potions classroom for something," he replied with heavy suspicion in his voice.

"Well, you see, actually, there's been a little mistake of sorts," Draco professed coolly, heart beating rapidly behind his ribs. "We were going to, er, slip a bit of something into the Gryffindor's juice. Just a little!" he protested, taking a deep breath. "Only Pansy told Dobby to do it and, well, you know how Dobby feels about Mr.-Harry-Potter-Sir, so we thought perhaps Dobby might have doused the whole school instead and I was sort of thinking that perhaps it would be best to make sure that you and Professor Sinestra, at least, were sober by the time we got to the Quidditch match, as I didn't particularly want to get caught by the lot of them..."

Confession, they claimed, was good for the soul; all it seemed to get him was a nasty glare.

"What 'something', exactly, was slipped into the juice?" Severus demanded sharply, arms crossed over his chest as he continued to glare.

"Er... FireWhiskey," Draco admitted sheepishly.

"What strength...?" Severus looked less than amused as he crossed towards a locked cabinet. Draco could hear keys jangle in a pocket of his robes, as he pulled them out. "And spelled over how...?"

"She didn't say. Knowing Pansy, the pre-bottled variety." Draco paused, shaking his head a little. "There wasn't time for anything more. Are you..." Well, it was better to ask, wasn't it? "...terribly angry?"

"Mildly angry." That sounded a bit curt, and Severus started to rifle through neatly labeled bottles in that cabinet. "Is it time delayed, or...?"

"Well, you aren't drunk yet, are you?" Draco asked, one brow rising as he jostled Damon gently into his arms. "Shall I go ask for the phial from Pansy?"

"No. I was just wondering if it was action-activated, but... that's far too complicated for a pre-bottled sort." He pulled forth three phials, and moved to his work-table to pick up a fourth, larger one.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Draco offered, looking at him hopefully. "It likely would have been if she'd given it to anyone but Dobby. There's no guarantee he even put it in anyone's juice..."

"And just as little way to guarantee that he didn't toss it into everyone's -- go get him, Draco, while I mix this." Severus sounded perfectly miffed, as he started to measure out equal amounts of the three potions.

The blond man paused, frowning for a moment as he watched the potions master. "Am I going to be forgiven?" he asked, honestly wondering. "It wasn't meant this way. Honestly."

"I'm aware." He poured a small splash of the first in with the second, swirling them slowly. "However, I do expect a bit more in the way of planning from you..."

"They'd have suspected me. I should've sent Blaise instead of Pansy, I admit..." Draco's voice trailed into silence. Nothing had been said about forgiveness, though, had it? Even though he'd asked. "I'll bring Dobby back," he said quietly, a sudden overwhelmingly guilty sort of sorrow flooding him for a moment. /That's what you get for not thinking./

"Good. I'm going to have to administer this to everyone, if he did in fact put it in all the drinks. I don't want the game to take any longer than 'til tea time." He didn't look up again, as he spoke, just kept to his work of mixing slow parts of the three potions together.

That was sort of forgiveness, wasn't it? And that made it better, definitely, as he hurried along the way to the kitchens with Damon still in his arms. He probably could have just called Dobby to him magically, but...


It was just better to go and fetch him. If anything could fudge up magic, it was Dobby.

"Master Draco, is you needing food?"

"No," he said with no small amount of irritation -- mostly at himself, he had to admit. "I need to know what you did with what Mrs. Zabini gave you."

"A bottle, Master Draco," the house-elf said easily enough. "Does Damon need a bottle? Dobby has full access to the kitchen..."

"No," Draco said, gently jostling Damon, who was beginning to get a bit upset -- probably because he was. "I need to know what you did after Pansy spoke with you and left you the FireWhiskey, Dobby."

"Dobby threw it out," the house-elf said proudly. "Dobby tossed FireWhiskey into the bin."

"Dobby, you MARVEL!" Draco declared, dropping down and kissing the house elf atop his bald pate. Lucius would have had a fit. "You magnificent house elf, you! For that, I swear, I'll give you a raise! Two galleons and three sickles a month!"

"Ohhh, Dobby is so happy!" The house-elf bounced a little, hands clapping together for a moment. "Thank you, Master Malfoy! Dobby just is trying to keep Master Draco from getting in trouble!"

With a laugh, Draco turned to head back to the dungeons, hurrying along the way. He'd never been so pleased to have not gotten into a mess before, and it felt a bit odd. Perhaps even more than a bit odd, he decided, hurrying into the potions classroom, a little breathless. "Dobby didn't do it!" he cried out, smiling brilliantly at the professor.

"He didn't? Thank Merlin." The man looked cross, still, as he started to re stopper the potions bottles.

"He didn't want to get me in trouble," Draco said, relief still in him. "Does that make you less angry? Perhaps?"

"You've made me waste this bit of potion, but..." He brushed past Draco to get to the locked cabinet, and brushed fingers over Damon's hair. "No harm has been done."

"We could always use it later..." Draco suggested, following him, Damon's chubby hand reaching out and latching onto Severus.

"For what purpose...?" He didn't throw the mixture he'd made out, though -- no, it was put on the bottom most shelf, which Severus had to bend to get to.

Unable to help himself, Draco ran fingers lightly down the man's spine to caress over his bottom, eyes dropping almost closed. "Ohh... I should think we could perhaps try the FireWhiskey ourselves, later..."

"And find ourselves too soused to find where I put the antidote?" Severus closed the doors, and re-locked it. Keys were something he seldom used, preferring magic, but most of his students had a poor grasp of how to pick locks, he knew, while more of them knew how to break spells. The daring hand on his back... well, Draco had every right to, even in light of his behavior.

"Mmm, maybe if we set it out beforehand," Draco suggested, withdrawing his hand as Severus stood. "Am I forgiven?" he asked again, and it was obvious that it was worrying at him, at least a little. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared, but it wasn't. "I only wanted to win. Maybe a little too much," he admitted, "but I didn't think it would hurt any of them..."

"I can think of two Gryffindors that are allergic to FireWhiskey, Draco." Severus turned a little. "So, you just didn't think. But no harm was done, which makes you a very lucky man."

All right, still not forgiven, then. "Can I make up for it?" He was getting desperate.

"Play a game where you don't kill any of the Gryffindors...?" he suggested, moving his magically cleaned fingers to stroke Damon's cheek. He was obviously as fond of Draco's son as he was of Draco.

"I think I can manage that," the elder Malfoy told him with no small amount of relief. "Unless the Weasel deliberately kills himself just to spite me."

"The only possible way to do that, and have it be your fault, would be to stick himself on your broom. And I very much doubt that you'd let him impale himself on your broom." Severus's fingers drifted a little, from atop Damon's head, to Draco's cheek. "We've probably missed most of lunch, you know."

"We could stay a little while longer..." Draco suggested, tongue darting out to touch lower lip just as echoes invaded the hallways.

"Well, he should have been back by now..."

"I know, but the professor went after him..."

"Well, I don't hear any moaning, do you?"

"There's a side door we can use, or we can stay," Severus whispered, leaning nearer. That dart of pink tongue just drew him closer to the younger wizard.

As if there was any sort of question! It was rather unfortunately too late, for the classroom door was already opening. "Oh, there you are!"

"Where else would we be?" the professor drawled. He didn't flinch or twitch at all at the sound of intruding voices, simply stayed near to Draco, still mostly tempted by that mouth. And Damon was making noises again, a little hand darting out to cling onto his robes.

"Well," Blaise drawled, "I'll bet I can think of half a dozen places, most of which have either locks on the door or convenient flat surfaces, sir..."

"Why ever would we need a lock, or a flat surface?" He leaned in, and did catch Draco's mouth in a brief, soft kiss. "Get out, go back to lunch."

"See you in an hour?" Draco asked, wanting to kiss him again, Damon squealing with glee to be between them.

"On the field." The next kiss was for Damon, right atop his forehead. "Go, or else you'll never get to the field."

"Going." Even though he didn't want to, but Millicent had one arm and Blaise had the other, and Pansy was shaking her head from the doorway.

"Well," she said as they headed down the hallway, "what did he say?"

"Not much," Draco denied. "Dobby didn't do it -- he was worried I'd get into some sort of trouble for it."

"Well, the plan may have failed, but no one's any wiser to it," Blaise sighed. "Damn house-elves."

Draco simply shrugged. He was actually okay with the fact that Dobby hadn't done it -- mostly because it meant that Severus wasn't really pissed off with him. "Turns out two of the Gryffindors are allergic to FireWhiskey, so it's just as well."

"I'd bet money one of them's Potter," Pansy sighed. "Well, at least we didn't kill one of them. Wouldn't THAT have been ironic? Downed not by the You-Know-Who, but by pumpkin juice?"

The lot of them fairly giggled at the thought, and it was at that point they ran across a fair lot of Gryffindors heading out into the foyer to make their way to the Quidditch pitch.

"That," Seamus noted, "is the sound of a Slytherin PLOTTING something."

"Without a doubt. They all went streaming out after Draco left, didn't they?" Ron snorted. "I wouldn't put sabotaging the balls past any of them!"

"Oh, no," Millicent said almost innocently. "I really don't think Draco would do anything to sabotage the balls at all."

Dean gave her a glare, and then shared it with Draco, and Damon. "But you were plotting something!"

Perhaps, Blaise noticed, they could play off of a bit of paranoia. "Of course we were..."

"But I don't think we're really very likely to tell you," Draco answered with a smirk, one that was echoed on the baby's face. "Are we, sweet demon? We'll just let the nasty Gryffindors find out all on their own, won't we?" And Damon gurgled in agreement.

"That's just disturbing," Neville muttered under his breath.

"That kid's going to grow up to be the next You-Know-Who," Ron muttered darkly.

"Looks like you're raising the quintessential Slytherin," Harry observed.

"Would I raise anything else?" Draco asked. "I'm sure your ankle-biters are all as Gryffindor as they come."

"But why train a child to be evil?" Hermione pressed, frowning at both Draco and Damon.

That brought all four Slytherins to the defensive, on the angry end at that. "Slytherin does not necessarily equate with evil, you silly wench," Draco snapped out, shifting Damon so that his baby didn't have to look at the lot of them.

"Although it does usually mean one hell of a lot smarter than you lot," Millicent agreed coldly. "After all, your sort of bravery usually ends up in death!"

"Yeah, well, your sort of evil sneakiness usually ends up in Azkaban with the rest of the Malfoys," Ron sneered.

Damon, without any warning, cooed loudly, and started to try to squirm off of his father's shoulder. Turning around the corner was Severus Snape, in Slytherin quidditch robes, and a broom in hand.

"And your sort of lackluster, close-minded attitude to life in general ends up in a dead-end job with the Ministry. At least Lucius Malfoy enjoyed what he did with his life, misguided as it may have been."

The look on Draco's face was worth those words -- almost worshipful as he half-turned, ignoring the Gryffindors who were now quite off-center as a result of Snape joining the fray. "Let's go," Draco said to the others, and promptly made his way around the lot of them to head back into the Great Hall, where they'd been heading to start.

It was nice to see the Gryffindors, with their noble mouths hanging open, just a little, as they were left in the Slytherin's dust. No more than two minutes later did Professor Sinestra pass them, in Quidditch robes, a broom in hand.

Apparently, the Slytherins had simply been gathering a team. Maybe.

"Umm..." Neville said softly. "I think we might be in real trouble...."

"Are you sure you won't play Seeker, Harry?" Seamus asked.

"Why do you say that?" Ron asked, frowning at Neville.

"Well," Neville said, "I mean, they looked really serious! And I've heard Professor Sinestra was one of the best Chasers in her year. My grandmother said so," he nodded.

"Well, Sirius told me that Snape's a rotten player, so don't be too worried," Harry murmured.

The others all seemed a little worried, still, though. "Whatever they've been up to can't be good," Ron said darkly.

"They're Slytherins," Dean agreed.

"Slimy bastards," Seamus added for good measure.

"They were probably just up to putting together a team," Harry sighed. "Come on, let's get out to the pitch."


"Anyone who didn't see that coming, raise their hands," Blaise sneered as the Slytherins slumped off of the field's greens.

"We put up a good fight. It's not like they completely trounced us..." Pansy said weakly.

"Mrs. Zabini, the score was one hundred and ninety to ten," Professor Sinestra announced with dry inflection.

Draco sighed. "It's my fault. I should have caught the bloody snitch. At least then we'd have had something to rub in their faces."

"It's not your fault that Potter's got the 'magic touch'. I don't think I've ever flown upside down before," Severus added sourly. He'd twisted to avoid a bludger, and then the next thing he knew, everything was upside down. "At least you scored, Sinestra."

"I can't believe he managed to keep all of the others from going in," she groaned as they settled into the stands. "So not only is he an excellent Seeker, he's a Keeper, too. Is there anything that bloody Potter can't do??"

"Win water balloon fights?" Millicent suggested.

"Potions work?" Draco noted with a sneaky little grin trying to creep across his face.

"Snog Draco?" Pansy said, and then snickered as the lot of them looked her way, Blaise's elbow reacquainting itself with her ribs. "Ouch!"

"Would you like me to do that the next time she says such a thing, Mr. Zabani?" Snape offered, sitting down beside Draco on the stands. He really didn't feel like watching any other teams get pummeled -- because, of course, Potter's team would win.

Fate hated them that way.

"I could elbow her," Millicent offered, stilling a little as she caught sight of an ugly little house-elf crossing the edge of the field with a bundle of Damon in his arms.

"Dobby watched game! Dobby sorry Master Draco lost game..."

"Master Draco is very sorry he lost the game, too," Draco admitted, taking Damon easily as Dobby handed the child to him. The little boy was quite well-entertained, a variety of brightly-colored toys floating within reach of his hands should he want them. "Master Draco, in fact, hates to think that we'll all have to sit here and watch Mr. Potter win."

"Oh, but Dobby likes Mr. Harry Potter sir!"

"We know." Snape's muttered sneer seemed quite in character, which was soothing to the other students after seeing him act rather unexpectedly around Draco in particular.

"Mr. Harry Potter sir is good player, yes? Master Draco should practice more?"

Malfoy groaned. "Dobby. Do me a favor. Go play in the kitchens."

"Yes, Master Draco sir!" Dobby said, and with that, disappeared.

"Master Draco should practice more..." Draco muttered, eyes narrowing as he watched the Quidditch game now going on before them. "Ha."

"We were set up to lose," Sinestra complained.

"Don't whine," Severus chided. He decided to not watch the game, and instead had snatched a green stuffed dragon out of the air beside Damon's head, and was enticing the baby to chew on its wings. The child seemed quite delighted to do so, and squealed every time he managed to clutch Severus's fingers.

"Well," Draco said, "it could have been much worse. At least we beat Potter seventh year, right?"

"Right," Blaise agreed with a smile despite himself. "And considering the rest of us haven't played in almost ten years -- the professors aside, of course, as it's been even longer for them -- well. It could've been worse. Right."

"No one died, at least," Pansy agreed, eyeing Severus, who'd spent most of the game dangerously close to falling off his broom whenever he did try to catch the quaffle.

Thanks, Draco thought, to Dobby's choice of disobeying about the FireWhiskey, and thanks to Sinestra shoving Severus back upright upon his broom. "What time is it?" he asked abruptly.

"Three thirty," Millicent informed him. "Why?"

"Oh... it's almost time for Damon's nap. He'll be getting a bit cranky shortly. I think I'll skip out on seeing the rest of this," he said casually.

"I'll join you," Severus said, equally casual. "We were going to have tea, weren't we?"

"Tea," Pansy snickered. "Right."

"We were," Draco agreed, closing his eyes and shaking his head, unable to keep from smiling.

"Well, enjoy your... 'tea', Draco," Blaise drawled, watching Severus set the now slightly wet stuffed Dragon back into the air above Damon's head

"Thank you, Blaise," he said dryly as they headed down from the stands, the toys floating along in a little procession behind them. "I have no doubt that we will."

Severus rose smoothly, fell easily into pace with him. He heard Professor Sinestra mutter, "They should just be honest and say they're going to go fuck..."

"We're going to go fuck," Draco called back over his shoulder, and promptly stuck out his tongue at the lot of them before disappearing around the edge of the stands. "Sorry. I couldn't resist. I'm very glad we aren't Gryffindors..."

"I'm very glad that you're legal," Severus murmured, eyes a little wide. "Discreet you are not."

"This from the man who made sure all of Gryffindor Tower would be kept awake by us last night?" Draco drawled, amused.

"I had no idea they'd figure out it was us," Severus sneered in a very false voice of innocence.

"Of course you didn't," Draco agreed as they headed back to the castle, leaving behind the sounds of the shouting reunion members.

"No more than you knew that your shirt was advertising what we were going to do last night," Severus drawled, lifting one lean hand to rest against the small of Draco's back.

It sent a shiver down the other man's frame, grey eyes darting to the side, sly smile coming into existence. "Well, to everyone but Weasel. I suppose."

"Interesting, how someone who outwardly hated you for the entirety of school could be offended that you don't want to have sex with him." That hand pressed a little, lean fingers moving in a clear gesture of possession.

Malfoy was absolutely melting, and his son reacted by cooing with delight at the man responsible for it. "Well. He's an odd one, isn't he? Not at all like his brothers. Much more fiery. Not my type."

"And your 'type' would happen to be...?" the man beside him baited, lips curling slyly.

"Cool, calm under pressure. Sarky black-haired gits are my favorites," Draco answered with a smirk.

"Bratty, pale beauties with brilliant minds are mine. What luck we seem to have." He leaned near to press a kiss behind Draco's ear, and murmured, "We both need showers."

He couldn't help the shiver that rocked down his spine with those words, or the pictures it conjured up in his mind. "That sounds just perfect," he agreed, keeping a tight rein on himself. It was hard not to just jump the man right at the moment! Though, the baby cooing in his ear smothered down the urge a little. After all, he and Severus couldn't very well hop into the shower and have sex with Damon there. It just wouldn't work that way. "Yes, sweet demon, I know. You and I will just have to figure something out until you go to sleep, won't we?" It was only another half hour...

"You usually feed him, don't you...?" Severus half-reminded. While he fed Damon, they could talk... perhaps make sense of what they were doing.

"Right about now," Draco agreed. "He usually falls asleep with the bottle in his mouth. He's a very good boy, aren't you, sweet demon?" he asked, and kissed the top of that cottony head with a little laugh.

Damon tried to tilt his slightly bobbling head up into that kiss, as if to see what it was that Draco had done atop his head. Severus watched with a smile, as they turned down the stairs of the dungeons. "He is certainly a sweet boy."

"He's a perfect boy," Draco agreed. "And he'll be a perfectly spoiled little brat by the time he's old enough to go to school. I hope Potter's children all find him annoyingly and magnificently smug."

"Imagine the horror for Potter's children if I'm still teaching here when they come through," the potions master drawled in amusement.

"Pain," Draco agreed. "Suffering. Agony. I delight in that thought." Silvery eyes snuck to the side, gleaming at him. "I'd rather think that by then you might have moved on to something more like research...?"

"I never can be entirely sure," Severus shrugged. "Private research is rewarding, but harder to have your accomplishments recognized, without clear backing."

"Hmmm." No, now wasn't the time to offer. The time to offer was later, after other things had been worked out, Draco decided. "That's very true, but with your recent accomplishments, I don't think that would be so very hard to find."

"How many ministry employees end up anywhere other than pigeonholed?" he asked, pausing in front of his office door, and taking a moment to unlock it.

"Well, think about it, at any rate," Draco suggested as they walked inside the room. "At least.."

"Working at Hogwarts does, of course, limit my social life," the professor murmured as he closed the door behind them.

"And the noise you can make in the middle of the night?" came the teasing reply.

"During the school year? Merlin, yes." Snape moved to a tea-set in the corner, heating the pot. "You, of course, would probably have no interest at all in lingering around the school while I teach."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Draco answered almost casually. "I mean, there are benefits, aren't there? Not only being close to you," and the mere suggestion of his lingering made his heart beat faster, after all, "but also being able to encourage young Slytherins and aggravate equally young Gryffindors. It wouldn't hurt to show Damon the proper way of being Slytherin, either..."

"In another year or so, I'll be able to leave the school safely, and with enough wealth to be able to work on my research without worry." He knew why he was telling Draco that, almost warning him, as he poured hot water into two cups, and added leaves to let steep.

"Ahhh. So you wouldn't be interested, beyond that...?" In him. In anything.


"I'm afraid that didn't make any sense at all, Draco, though if you're trying to take my words the wrong way, you're really wasting your time." Severus was infinitely calm as he turned back to Draco, setting a cup of tea down in front of him. "I can't leave immediately. Albus would need time to find another Potions master who would have the strength of personality to serve as Head of House." Because Sinestra simply didn't. "I hope you could stand a year or perhaps more at this school, with me, before I could leave... that is, if you'd be willing."

"So it's by way of an offer, then," Draco said, lips curling upward in a genuine smile, the sudden weight that had descended upon him flying away just as easily. "Yes. I could stand ten years or twenty or seventy if I had to. I waited fourteen to get this close, Severus Snape. Don't think I'll be likely to give up easily."

"I was hoping you wouldn't," was the softly granted confidence. "Do you need to fetch a bottle for Damon, or would a conjured one do?" Because the baby was squirming, and looked hungry.

"Conjured will be fine," Draco replied, and simply smiled at him and waited.

It took a few moments, and he even pressed a warming spell over it before he handed the tidy-looking bottle over to Draco. "There."

"There, sweet demon," Draco agreed, and Damon clamped onto the bottle with all the starving manner of a man who hadn't been fed in a month. "So...." He looked across the way. "You..." He paused, bit his lip, smiled. "You're interested in this being long term, then. Instead of just a weekend. I admit, I was rather thinking the next hundred and fifty years or so, myself..."

"The next hundred and fifty years sounds... quite pleasurable to me," Severus decided, watching Draco bite his lip. The younger Wizard had no idea, surely, how coy and tempting he looked when he did that. "I'd like to see Damon here grow up to piss off little Gryffindors."

"And maybe match him?" came the tentative offer. "As I said. It would be a shame to let the lot of them off from another Snape to aggravate them..."

"That... I'm as yet unsure of," the older wizard admitted after a moment of quiet, though he leaned nearer to Draco. "It would be a shame, yet..."

"We can think about that later," Draco offered a little hurriedly. Just because he loved having Damon and just because Damon loved Snape was no reason to think that Severus was particularly fond of children. "Do you... I mean, well, you don't object to Damon?" That would be so incredibly awful that he wasn't even certain there were words for it. It wasn't as though he could give the child back, and not as though he would even if he could.

Black on black eyes softened slightly, as if that would reassure Draco. "Whatever would give you the idea that I don't like Damon?"

"Oh, nothing," Draco assured. "He adores you, and you seem to adore him in return. The idea of others seems to bother you, though, so I thought it pertinent to ask."

"I'm wary of passing on my genetics to anything," Severus said rather simply, reaching forwards to languid fingers to stroke Damon's soft hair as he drank. "And it's something I haven't ever given much decision to, before now."

Deep grey eyes peered at him, closing only slowly, sleepily, and Draco smiled. On the whole, he was rather fond of the genetics that made up Severus Snape, but so long as that was the issue, there was time to convince him otherwise. "That's all right, then," he said, looking at Severus quietly. "He's almost asleep."

"Sweet boy," Severus murmured, still stroking fingers lightly over his scalp, even as he leaned completely out of his chair to kiss Draco just as light as the touch of his fingers. "You, too."

"I've never been called sweet before," Draco whispered, eyes darkening slightly.

"Shall I call you it again...?" He leaned in to kiss him again, lightly as the time before it. "Sweet brat might be more appropriate, since you're very much not a boy."

"Maybe I can show you that again in a bit?" he whispered, closing his eyes and brushing his lips so carefully against Severus's. So tender... "Damon is almost asleep."

"And when he's asleep, perhaps we can lay him down, and spend an hour doing whatever we can -- slowly, this time." The play of lips against lips was an enjoyable one that Severus hadn't indulged himself so thoroughly in for years.

"That would be wonderful..." He had originally thought that the afternoon might be spent in the potions classroom, likely bent over the worktable he'd sat at for seven years, but right at the moment... right at the moment, slow was better, he thought. There would be time for the other later.

Plenty of time. An entire summer, in the very least. "To clarify, my offer has received a 'yes'?"

"A resounding yes. A yes meant to last, oh, I'd say, until the day I die," Draco agreed, Damon growing heavy in his arms as he nodded off, bottle nearly finished. "An utterly positively completely heartfelt YES!"

"Ten years ago, you would have had to put that down to boyish fancy," Severus confided in a low, smooth drawl. "Now, however, I can accept it gratefully."

"Thank you," Draco told him primly. "I'd have meant it fourteen ago."

"I'm aware." The kiss deepened, and one-handed, Severus took the bottle from Damon's slack lips, and set it aside. "But now we can act on it."

"Let me lay him down..." Draco said, shifting to stand and smiling, glancing at a door nearby. "Your bedroom?"

"Most conveniently placed," the potions master agreed, moving back a step, and cleaning up remnants of a mostly ignored tea with his wand. Usually his bedroom door couldn't even be seen, but he'd removed that seal, too, when he'd unlocked the first door. "We can lay him down in there..."

Quietly, Draco moved in that direction, pushing open the door and peeking inside. The room seemed surprisingly comfortable -- half of Hogwarts swore the man was an ascetic. From the size of that bed, Draco thought with a grin, he was anything but. "Have you a drawer I can transfigure?"

"An empty one, yes." He moved to a large, formidable dresser, and pulled out the smallest bottom-most drawer. "This will do?"

"Yes, thank you," Draco replied most politely, tugging his wand from a pocket. With a wave, it became a cradle, instead, and he laid Damon down in it, casting a silencing spell tenderly around him. "There."

"He's a good child." Down for at least an hour of napping, something that was very good. Severus slipped behind Draco, hands on his shoulders. "Bed...?"

"Yes," Draco agreed, turning and lifting his face the scant inches between them, lashes dropping to his cheeks as he pressed his mouth to Severus's.

One hand lifted to clutch at his chin, steering the kiss as Severus parted Draco's lips with a seeking tongue. Half of the fun was to see if they'd get to the bed at all -- and the other half was to see where they would end up if they didn't.

The mouth beneath his own parted willingly, giving him access to tongue and teeth and the moist inner recesses that seemed to sing with want of him on return of that kiss. Fingers were working at his Quidditch robes already, lightly fumbling down the front, releasing hook-and-eye latches to get at what was underneath, simple pull over shirt and pants. Draco's hands were greedy, seeking flesh almost desperately, and when they found it, he sighed, a wonderful feeling against Severus's lips.

"I think... that you and I are still in need of a shower, actually," Severus corrected, only when he broke the kiss. Draco's own robes were a lost cause, as nimble fingers plucked at the catches while Severus walked backwards towards another closed door.

"Yes," Draco agreed between kisses, following him obediently. The notion, naked wet skin pressed together, was brilliant. Actually, right at the moment, anything that amounted in the two of them being naked would probably seem so to him.

Draco was soon as much shed of his robes as Severus was, and he walked backwards for another few steps. Severus pressed the bathroom door open with his back, twisting a little to light the candles. "One hour, no more..."

"Yes..." Damon would wake up laughing, Draco knew, and that was as good as any alarm might be. They were naked, together, and that was really all he needed at the moment. "Yes..."

Snape didn't light the torches, preferring the candle's warmer-seeming light as he coaxed Draco backwards into the shower's stall. "Yes...?"

"Yes," Draco whispered, fingers fumbling momentarily behind Severus to turn on the water. "Yes, I'm naked with you. Yes, I want you. Yes, I'll do anything you want. Yes."

"And if what I want is something simple...?" He pulled a chain, starting a spray of magically heated water.

"Then yes. That, too," was the response.

"I want you with me, until I'm so old that I can't lift a wand by myself. And past it." He left his hands creep over Draco's body, one shifting to grab a bar of soap. "Though I imagine I'd like my own wand to still lift a little, and yours..."

"Yes." It was a promise, it was romance, it was everything he'd ever wanted and then some. He'd thought that perhaps they'd start with sex and, given enough time, he'd be able to convince the black-haired man that what Draco wanted was what he wanted, too, but this... "Yes, yes, yes."

"Now, stop 'yes'-ing, and wash," Severus instructed, smiled against his lips as they kissed again. the hot spray of the shower fell a bit harder, but not uncomfortable.

For a few moments, all remained quiet, the two of them washing. The soap smelled like Severus, citrus and clove, and that alone was quite enough to make Draco hard even if he hadn't been already. /God.../ Was it really so possible to be as happy as he was?

He was kissed again when Severus deemed the both of them clean enough, and somewhere, Draco dropped the soap. It didn't matter, because he was very shortly being pressed against the wall, hands touching slick stone as he moaned and arched, pressing the entirety of himself against Severus.

"Please...." he whispered. "Oh, please..."

"You want me to fuck you in the shower, Mr. Malfoy...?" Severus whispered in his ear, a bit louder than he would've liked to, but the spray's burble was unforgiving.

"I want to feel you so deep in me I can taste you in my throat," Draco managed to answer, tongue darting out to moisten his lower lip as he looked over his shoulder at Severus with a desperate want gleaming in his eyes.

And then he couldn't clearly see Severus's face anymore, because the man had bent his head, to bite at the side of Draco's neck. Hot, firm body pressed against his backside, a prominent erection jutting against him. "As you wish..."

He bit down on the inside of his mouth, a flood of heat washing through him as he moaned and pushed back, wanting, wanting so desperately for Severus to push into him. He got it, that cock covered in slippery cool something, soap maybe, to make it easy. It stung, the whole of him still a little sore from the night before and the early morning, but he couldn't help giving a frantic sound of pure need when the man did it, demanding more as his hands curled into fists pressed to the wall. "Fuck... YES..."

Skillful fingers crept around him when Severus rocked back slowly, both hands clasping around Draco's cock as Severus pressed back into that half-slicked clench. It was perfect, every time, and Draco's cries and moans, squirming arches, made his wood-hard cock turn steely. He could do that, every day, for the rest of his life, and never, never get tired of that voice crying out because of him.

"Please... Please..." He wasn't sure what he was begging for, exactly. The only thing Draco was certain of was that he'd never felt anything like this, nothing like this moment, and he shook, pushing back to meet every thrust of Severus's hips. He gave little sounds of pleasure, barely heard over the sound of the water, and finally pressed his face to the wall, little pants puffing from his lips to the stone and back again, reflected.

"Beautiful, Draco... just..." Severus didn't even bother with full sentences, as he kissed against the back of his lover's neck, his shoulder-blades, and shoulders themselves for a moment, before he pressed his face into wet silken hair, and started his hips into a fierce pummeling, hands matched in motion.

The sounds that gained him increased sharply, Draco shoving back to meet him with every push, and after only a handful of seconds, it seemed, he cried out. Semen spattered out against the wall and he shuddered, tightening inexorably around the cock still pushing into him, forehead pressed to the wall. He whimpered quietly, pleasure making his knees so weak that it was a miracle he could remain standing, just as it was a miracle that Severus's cock hadn't been peeled off by that clutch. A few hard thrusts after that whimper in Draco's voice, and a heat spilled into him, searing the weak-kneed sensation that was already in him. "Draco..."

"Yes," he managed to whisper tiredly some few seconds later. "Yes..." It was the only thing that he could think to say. Yes.

One hand slipped to turn the heated water up a bit harder, to wash away what they'd just done. Languidly, Severus eased himself out of Draco, letting his arms wrap around the younger Wizard. It had to be, at long last, some sort of retribution/reward for all the good he'd tried to do in his life.

"I think..." Draco murmured sleepily. "I think we ought to have a nap, too. For at least a little while. We could sleep through the next bout of 'socializing'...." Damon wouldn't mind, so long as the little colored magical mobile played above his bed.

"Fine by me." He didn't have to be there, and Dumbledore wouldn't see a need to drag him out of the dungeons, because with Draco there, he certainly wasn't working. A flick of motion, and the shower turned off, and then Draco was being dragged out to stand on a warm rug while Severus pulled out towels.

"I love you awfully." It was a strange, very un-Slytherin sort of thing to say, but it was true, and he shrugged helplessly as he looked at the dark-haired man, shaking his own head.

Pale skin soon found itself enfolded in a large dark-green towel. "You sound as if that should disappoint me -- it doesn't."

"It's not very Slytherin of me to say it, though, is it? Or very Malfoy," Draco said with a helpless little shrug, hands reaching to grasp the edges of the material. "Father would be yelling down the castle over our heads." He paused, shook his head. "I'm not going to do that to Damon. Even if it means not raising him to be a proper Malfoy."

Severus started to towel himself off, too, contemplative for a moment. "Being Slytherin, Draco, does not mean one has to be a heartless, cold bastard. I've seen perfectly affectionate Slytherins."

"Yes, and most of them suffer for seven years, too," Draco informed him with a nod, "as I'm sure you know. They cannot refrain from being publicly affectionate, and that, I suppose, is their downfall. Hm. I don't know."

"You managed," Severus pointed out, toweling his hair off, "somehow without being publicly affectionate -- yet you're very much so now."

"That's different, though, isn't it?" Draco pointed out, finished drying and discarding the towel, now. "It doesn't make me vulnerable now." To humiliation, to possible rejection, to half a dozen things.

Severus grasped Draco's wrist, and pulled open the bathroom door to enter the bedroom once more. "Not in any manner that I'd consider bad."

"I don't think I'd have ever minded being vulnerable to you," Draco agreed, chuckling as they neared the bed. Somehow, napping didn't seem at all like what he wanted just at the moment. He'd much rather wrap himself up tightly in Severus and just stay that way.

Severus paused long enough to set Damon's mobile above the bed, sending it into motion with a flick of his wand. It would stay silent at least until the boy woke up. "Then don't feel a need to start now."

"I don't think I will," Draco agreed quietly, and kissed him, tender motion of tongue and lips that teased lightly instead of demanding.

He gained himself a wordless murmur, and Severus pushed Draco down onto the bed to blanket him shortly. "I believe that you'll need some sort of healing spell, or simple respite, before we do that again, Draco." At least, with him on top.

"Just keep kissing me," he whispered, fingers moving up to tangle in damp locks. "Please."

"Entirely my pleasure," Severus whispered. Hands on Draco's back tugged him closer, until they were in a comfortable tangle atop the bedding.

It was a wonderful way to pass time, really; pressed together, a knot of limbs, lips brushing tenderly across mouth, jaw, nose, cheek. Draco was almost drowsy, and his mouth was chapping, and he didn't care, really, so long as they didn't have to move. So long as it went on forever.

Finally, fingers lifted to brush his lips, over damp skin. "I've a potion that will fix this." Then a kiss to the edge of that reddened mouth, laid there with Severus's own pressure-colored lips.

"I'd rather let them all see," Draco whispered. "I want to flaunt you. I want them to know I got the best one. I want to absolutely preen over it." He laughed quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose against Severus's jawline. "I'm smug about it."

"And not -- even slightly -- affectionate?" he was teased, as Severus rapped lean fingers against the line of Draco's spine, tickling over the slight ridges.

"My affection goes without saying," Draco whispered back, chuckling and squirming just a bit. That touch made his skin shiver, and he enjoyed it greatly.

"Smug I believe I can readily accept," Severus purred, head lolling back for a moment, as a glimpse of motion caught his eyes. Damon's feet kicking in the air at the mobile, little hands reaching. "Merlin, I feel disgustingly pleased with myself."

"Good," Draco laughed, nipping sharply just under his jaw. "I shouldn't be the only one feeling horribly smarmy about everything."

"I rather think this has got Potter et al sick to their upright and do-good little stomachs," the older wizard drawled, tilting his head a little to let Draco do that nip again.

"Even better," Draco whispered, laughing softly as he did it once more before rolling loose and picking up Damon, bringing him back to the bed and crawling into it. The baby slid easily between them, gleeful to be there, fist waving faintly at Severus. "Damon seems to do the same, actually. Hello, little demon. Awake again, I see, and very happy. Would you like to meet your new daddy? Yes? You're very fond of him already. I think we shall keep him for a very long time."

"Kept, hmnn? Well, one can keep a Snape, but you cannot have a kept Snape unless they wish to be that way." Severus resettled, one hand on Draco's side, the other lightly touching Damon's back. It was a warm feeling, to be laying there with his new lover, and the babe. "I wish to be, of course."

"Wonderful," Draco almost purred, leaning forward and kissing him to Damon's great enjoyment, squeals of pure happiness spilling from the little boy. "My kept Snape. How magnificent that sounds. Malfoy the Magnificent and his Snape. Hm."

"You brattish git."


"We probably won't see Malfoy for the rest of the reunion," Harry murmured to Ron, "Because he's quite obviously off fucking Snape still. Don't know why it bothers you, Ron... you should be in a great mood, considering we won the game!"

"I don't take well to making a total prat of myself," Ron sighed, giving Harry a half-hearted smile. "Plus, I wasn't really expecting to find Malfoy hot. Not only is he male, he's, well, he's Malfoy!"

Harry just shrugged, tilting his head a little as he straightened his tie, then straightened Ron's. "Well, since Hermione has her brilliant idea of partner switching during the dance a few times, maybe you'll at least be able to dance with him..."

At that, Ron laughed. "At least we don't have to wear dress robes," he said, good-naturedly shaking his head. "Who knows? Maybe I can talk to Seamus and find out about this thing. Maybe it runs in the family? Now that I think about it," Ron murmured thoughtfully, "Uncle Randy and cousin Roger never got married, either..."

"You never..." Harry looked at him, a bit questioningly. "Well, I mean, you never thought of it before now? Not even when we were students...?"

"Once or twice," Ron admitted, "but I thought it was just a teenage boy thing. Didn't you?"

"I thought you were going to get under Hermione's skirts when I wasn't looking -- I, for one, never thought of going for another boy..."

"Well..." Even though Ron was flushed a bit, he still smiled. "You're probably the only boy I know who didn't at least think about it once or twice, Harry. You've always been a weird one, though."

"Yeah, probably," Harry grinned, patting his friend on the back lightly. "My thing was that I was always trying to figure out what 'normal' size was."

Ron snickered, heading for the door. "I wouldn't tell that to Seamus, Harry. He'll likely want to compare later if that's the case."

Harry's cheeks flushed a little. "Well, your brothers were always interested in comparing..."

Pausing, Ron pressed a hand to his face. "Harry. I hate to tell you this..."

That got him a scowl from the Cannons' seeker. "I know -- they just wanted to look at my bits. We all figured out they were gay before you did, you know."

"Well, you know, it explains a lot, really. All of that time spent in the bathroom together..." Ron said dryly as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "It's no wonder Mum nearly had kittens the time she caught them. And here I thought they were just trying to do something to the toilet seat..."

"Maybe they were," Harry teased after a moment. "They're a very creative duo..."

"Who's creative?" Neville asked, joining them.

"Fred and George," Ron said dryly.

"Oh, my, yes," Seamus said fervently. "Very creative, those two!"

"I don't want to know," Ron groaned. "Not my brothers -- creativity is fine, but don't give me details on them..."

"All righty then," Dean agreed. "Nobody's heard any shrieking and moaning from the dungeons. Think they've fucked themselves to death?"

"I don't think I really want to think about that, either," Ron murmured, eyebrows crawling up a little.

"That could be messy," Harry agreed with Dean, grinning a bit at his friend. "That poor kid, it's all I can say..."

"Well, it would have been a Slytherin anyway..." Seamus reasoned.

"Yeah, but a Slytherin raised by Malfoy and Snape? Brr..."

Seamus shook his head. "The lot of you are assuming quite a bit. For all we know, it's a weekend fling, isn't it? They haven't exactly spoken marriage vows or anything in front of us..."

"Don't seem the sort to fling," Dean pointed out. "The entire time we were here, Draco had sex with... No one at all."

"I thought he was sleeping with all of Ravenclaw!" Harry said.

"I heard it was half of Hufflepuff," Seamus agreed.

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. Blaise said nobody when I talked to him earlier."

"But, if he'd been such a slut as to sleep with half a house, you'd think Professor Snape and he would've... before now, huh?" Neville suggested quietly.

"I still say Draco was just trolling for that missing piece. He's a mother, with a baby, looking for a father and someone who'd support them both. I wouldn't put it past him," Seamus muttered.

"I think you're all obnoxious, jealous children," Hermione told them flatly. "Well. Except Neville and Harry, of course. Really, the lot of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves! Especially you, Seamus, for even thinking such a thing! Has it not occurred to any of you that perhaps, just perhaps, they might be in love? I'm sure it's hard to equate with a Slytherin," and that was true even for her, "but it does happen."

Harry raised eyebrows at his wife. "But, it's... Draco, maybe I can see, but Snape?"

"Well, he sacrificed a lot to keep your fat out of the fire, didn't he, Mr. Harry James Potter?" she said huffily as Parvati and Lavender came down the stairs at last. "Really!"

"'Really' what?" Parvati asked, moving towards them. "What're the boys up to tonight...?"

"Being brats about Malfoy and Professor Snape," Hermione answered, wrinkling her nose. "They're stuck somewhere between 'Malfoy is a slut' and 'Malfoy is a virgin trolling for a Daddy for his demon'."

"I think they're adorable," Lavender declared. "Isn't it so sweet?"

"You don't think I'm sweet!" Seamus huffed.

"Yes, but you're not settled down with just one man, are you?" Lavender pointed out. "THAT is sweet. YOU are not."

"But, but..." Seamus sighed. "Merlin, I still think they're just banging for the weekend."

"Well..." Neville smiled at Harry and Hermione. "Our lives must be pretty dull if this is all we have to talk over."

Ruefully, Harry shook his head. "Well, I suppose we could always talk about Quidditch, raising babies, and the Ministry, but sex seems so much more exciting, I guess."

"Especially sex and how Ron isn't getting any," Seamus chipped in.

They all laughed at that, Ron's ears turning crimson. "Maybe if we go upstairs and get it on, Lavender will think we're cute, too!" he said.

"Hey, maybe..."

"How about we go into the Great Hall instead," Hermione suggested, edging the group on a bit. "Come on..."

"Time for the dance," Harry agreed, gently nudging the lot of them in the same way Hermione was.

"They've been parents too long," Dean said solemnly.

"Are we being herded, Harry?" Ron asked in a bit loud of a protest. "We're not your kids..."

"Really?" Harry faked a look of surprise. "You seem to require the same amount of prodding to get you somewhere!"

"Everyone is just ganging up on me today, aren't they...?" Ron muttered as they group finally moved forwards.

"Can I?" Seamus asked a bit politely.

"Gang up on me?" Ron asked.

"Sure..." Seamus grinned a little, then grabbed Ron's wrists, and jerked him towards the Great Hall. "No more moping!"

"More like take him upstairs and molest him," Dean whispered to Neville, who nodded in agreement as they headed downstairs, music already sounding through the stone hallways.

"Doubt he'd protest..."

Up ahead of them, Harry was trying a smooth move on his wife -- arm, lifted, slipping carefully over her shoulder.

It was rather lame, and just what the approaching Slytherins expected of Potter.

"Shall we, Pansy?" Blaise asked, desperately trying not to snicker.

"Shall we?" She grinned a bit wickedly, then mimicked Potter's motions, snagging her husband close.

Millicent snickered as his hand snuck up the back of Pansy's skirt to lightly pinch the back of her thigh and make her squeal.

"Blaise!" It wasn't a complaint.

"Under your... definitions, Draco, would that be unacceptable for a Slytherin...?" The owner of that questioning voice was unmistakable, as he and Draco turned the corner just in time to see it, lagging behind the other there. Sinestra was surely already in the hall, fidgeting with decoration as she tended to do.

"I believe, as it was distinctly sexual in nature, that it must be perfectly acceptable," Draco said with an equally distinctive sarcasm. "Particularly since it seems to be meant for making fun of Gryffindors, which surely must be a favorite Slytherin pastime."

"Well, since you've already tossed propriety to the winds, Draco..." Severus let a hand settle on the small of Draco's back, possessive. That, he assumed, was 'allowed', too.

The blond smirked, his expression as good as saying one thing extraordinarily clearly. /I win./

Not that Severus would've contested that win, or even bothered to ask what had been won. He was taking a healthy appreciation of Draco's backside, clothed in a neatly tailored tuxedo. It was hard to keep that hand from stroking lower.

"Not only does he show us all up, he looks hotter than should be fucking humanly possible doing it," Ron muttered under his breath to Seamus.

"Which one?" Seamus whispered back.

"Definitely Malfoy," he decided, though to tell the truth... Well. Damn. He shook his head. "I am not thinking Snape is hot. Help me, Seamus!"

"Can... I drag you back to the dorm?" Seamus asked after a moment, while they all strode into the Great Hall.

Startled blue eyes turned his way, going wide. "You mean...???"

"Mmm?" Seamus didn't look the least bit startled. "what?"

Ron's ears were burning, the flush creeping across his face. "Well. YOU know. That is... I mean..." He couldn't say it, he just couldn't! Was Seamus propositioning him? /Merlin,/ he thought. /I can't take the sort of humiliation twice in one weekend if I'm wrong!/

The other wizard just smiled at him, opened his mouth to say something, and then grinned. "After the dance is underway, yah."

Blue eyes became round, huge. "Oh," he said blankly, and for a moment, it seemed he would say nothing more. Finally, though, he came out with an answer. "Okay."

"'Okay'?" Seamus smirked a little at Ron, and patted his ass after a moment's thought. All Ron could do, it seemed, was squeak.

"Well," Draco murmured to Blaise as they looked around the Great Hall, "it looks like the Weasel's going to get at least part of what he seems to have wanted this weekend, after all."

"Part," Blaise said, glancing to Severus who was still... well, it was strange to see the professor not being a professor.

Laughing, Draco turned to Severus and bowed. They'd left Damon with Dobby for the evening, though his father had been most reluctant to do so. "Shall we dance?"

Severus had a moment of almost smug, relaxed silence, before he nodded. "I'll lead, if you don't mind..."

"This time," Draco agreed graciously. "It's my turn, next."

"I believe that I like the idea of switching with you..." Draco found himself tugged a bit closer than was necessary to dance, a closeness that promised an interesting evening.


"I rather hope it doesn't bother you, Albus, or that you don't have reason to protest Draco Malfoy and his young son Damon moving into my rooms." No mention of for how long, which meant it was going to be permanent for as long as Severus remained at the school. "He'll be assisting me in my research."

"I'm delighted," Dumbledore replied, and his face said as much. "I quite despaired of you ever emotionally attaching yourself again, Severus. How wonderful!"

Severus didn't quite smile in reply, but his lips twitched for a moment, certainly in contentment, and one eyebrow twitched along with his mouth. "Draco has... certainly grown up impressively." And Dumbledore didn't mind him having an assistant on. Wonderful -- two Slytherins teaching potions would send the Gryffindors running in fear.

The older man somehow resisted the urge to snicker.

"Well, I quite agree with you. That year has turned out a most magnificent lot of adults. I do hope Messrs. Weasley and Finnegan continue to get along so well..."

"And I hope that they learn that crawling beneath the punch-table is quite publically unacceptable," Severus agreed a bit vaguely.

"There is that part," Dumbledore replied, sipping from his cup of tea. "I take it that Mr. Malfoy will be leaving long enough to fetch whatever he needs from home?"

"Actually, he won't -- he's sending Dobby to get his things for him." That was Draco entirely, still a bit unsure, and unwilling to apparate home even briefly.

"Ahh, well. We'll see you tonight at dinner, then?" There was that sparkle in the eye, and Severus knew that he knew that neither of them would show up for dinner, and that they'd be lucky if they came out for breakfast, too.

"Perhaps." That 'Perhaps' was all but a 'no', because Severus still looked pleased with himself as he folded his hands together. "I'm sure no one would miss my presence at the table."

"Promise that you will at least occasionally be present? It would be best if everyone accustoms themselves to Mr. Malfoy and son before school begins," Albus told him with an equal amount of satisfaction.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll make occasional appearances." When taking a break from research and sex every so often. The prospect of spending the rest of the summer, and years after that, just like that... Perfectly mind-numbing.

Dumbledore laughed, a hearty, rolling sort of sound that came up from the bottom of his feet, it seemed. "Congratulations, Severus. Indeed..."

"Thank you, Headmaster." Severus's mouth curled up a little, as he drained the last of his cup. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get back before Damon takes his nap..."

"Of course," Dumbledore replied with a nod. "Quite understandable."

When the cup was set down on the headmaster's desk, Severus rose smoothly, inclined his head slightly, and took his leave. With any luck, the Gryffindors would be gone entirely, and he wouldn't even have to pass them on his winding trip to the dungeons.

So much for luck.

"Mr. Finnegan."

"Yes?" Seamus asked slyly, Ron hidden behind a statue, likely with his face flaming red.

"I do believe that such acts in the middle of a Hogwarts hall are likely not only inappropriate but also..."

"Completely improper and maybe even a little unseemly?" Seamus offered happily. "Sort of like that spell that seems to link your rooms and Gryffindor Tower?"

It was hard to not seem at least partly flustered by that, so Seamus had the slightly malicious pleasure of watching Severus's cheeks flush. "It must have been Peeves's work. And that is no excuse for you to linger so in the middle of the hallway."

"Yes, sir," Seamus said, and pinched Ron's ass.


The disgusted snort he gave wasn't hard to dredge up. "Get moving, you grown up delinquents."

"Yes, Professor Snape," Seamus snickered, prodding the Weasley along until they were quite out of his sight.

Merlin help future Weasley brats, Severus decided. He waited for a moment, until the hall was silent again, before he moved down the stairwell towards the dungeons. Draco would appreciate the good news he had, news that wasn't unexpected.

By the time he got downstairs again, he could hear Damon's giggles echoing up from the potions lab. "And then, the prince said, 'I'll love you forever. Even if you eat onions.' And they lived happily ever after," Draco declared.

Story-time with Slytherin. Severus waited just a pause, and then stepped into the room. Damon was seated atop his work-table, and Draco had the baby's hands in his, half-holding him properly upright. Not many would believe the adorable picture that Snape saw. Fewer still would believe the feelings of ownership that washed over him.

That was his family, now.

"Did you send Dobby to get your things...?"

Draco looked up, gathering Damon into his arms. "About an hour ago. What did Dumbledore say?" he asked tentatively. He was a bit worried that there might have been objections raised to his presence, but he knew they'd work their way around them.

"That we must make the occasional appearance at table, so the other teachers can become accustomed to you." It took only short steps to cross the room towards Draco, close enough to touch. Not yet, though. Severus smoothed a hand over Damon's fly-away hair first. "He doesn't seem tired at all today..."

"He refused to nap," Draco agreed as the little boy squealed and clutched at Severus's wrist. "I think he knows we're moving in with you and he's so excited he simply can't."

"I hope he doesn't get bored of the surroundings," Severus murmured, looking at Draco as he let his fingers linger. "Sweet child, for a demon. But I would expect nothing less, given his parentage."

"Kiss me again," Draco demanded. "It's almost time for tea. Dobby should be back by then..."

"You're demanding," Severus told him -- but Draco didn't need reminding of it. He leaned closer, pressing his mouth first to the edge of Draco's mouth, then the entirety.

"Always will be," the blond assured a little breathlessly as they parted. "Shall we have... a nap?" he suggested with a look that most definitely requested something besides sleep.

"With Damon awake...?"

"Dobby will be back..." Draco promised with a smile.

"That is very good news. Because as fond as I am of napping with Damon between us... other sleeps can be just as enjoyable." He leaned in again, catching that almost wicked smile in another kiss. Draco's soft mouth was pliant, eager, willing. "As long as the house-elf stays out of the room."

"Master Draco, Master Draco! All is ready, all is back, all is... Ohhh, Master Draco is kissing Professor. Oh, dear," Dobby declared, flustered.

"Right, other sleeps," Draco agreed. "Dobby, take Damon and go..." Somewhere. Anywhere. "Go visit with Dumbledore," he decided, a slightly vicious little smirk crossing his mouth. "Well?" the blond said to Severus, raising an eyebrow. "It's out of the room..."

"Perhaps not far removed enough... simply stay busy for at least an hour or so, Dobby," Severus instructed, stroking Damon's fluffy hair one more time before he turned to pick him up and offer him over to the house elf. "Be good, Damon."

"Daaaaaa," Damon squealed happily.

"Sweet demon," Draco agreed, and kissed him on the nose.

"Did he just... no, of course not. It was just random baby babble -- here, Dobby." After holding the warm little bundle for a moment more, Snape handed him over very carefully to the house elf.

"Daaaa!" Damon shrieked again, clinging to Severus's fingers for a moment as Dobby took him. "Daaaaaa!"

"I think he did," Draco said, practically beaming. "I think he means you!"

"Have a nice time, Damon..." Severus trailed off, then gestured for the house-elf to shoo, before he decided against letting Dobby leave.

"Daaaaa," Damon cooed one last time on Dobby's way out of the classroom.

"Happy much?" Draco asked him moments later, leaning back against Severus's work table.

The school's potions master turned back to Draco, smiling almost secretively to himself. "You don't know the half of it."

"So...." Draco drawled. "Professor. What was that about detention again? Maybe we should just talk about that..."

"And maybe you deserve one for almost poisoning an already ill-fated Quidditch game." Suddenly stern tones, as Severus closed in on the younger man. "There are things, of course, which were never a detention option for you... before."

He saw those pale eyes widen, mingled nervousness and excitement, and he new without doubt that Draco was shivering and hard for him as he watched the younger man suck momentarily at upper lip in thought. "And now?"

And now, Severus thought he'd be lecherous and do what he wanted. "Now I can. Mr. Malfoy, please, remove your robes."

The gleam in the other man's gaze was promptly hidden away behind blond lashes, pale fingers coming up to begin unhooking his robes from the top. They came apart slowly, revealing nothing at all beneath, not unusual considering the heat and how it had filled all of Hogwarts save the dungeons. "Yes, Professor," he nearly purred, trying not to smile. Best not to, Draco decided.

To go on with the game, or to delve into his lover's sleek body? Severus felt his mouth curl into an evil sort of smile, and he goaded, "Lay on your stomach across the work-table, Mr. Malfoy. Stretched out over it, please." The contrast of Draco's pale, faintly peach-tinted skin against the smooth mottled marble of the desktop was already a tempting sight. And it would only get better with Draco stretched out on that table.

With a glance from the corners of his eyes, Draco shifted, turning and bending, fingers reaching for the edge of the marble even as he shivered. Tiny goosebumps rose all over him as he gave a little breath of shock and squirmed, glancing back at Severus with his mouth trembling just a bit.

"You look eager, Mr. Malfoy -- do you want this badly...?" Severus moved close as soon as Draco was still, and laid a hand on his buttock. Lean fingers pressed firmly, rubbing the warm skin. "Tell me you want this badly."

"Desperately," Draco answered, arching himself back to that touch, his entire body devoted to making himself open and available to the other man. It was one of those things he'd often thought about in Potions once he was done with his own work; to be bent over, open, fucked, punished, anything so long as Severus was the one doing it, so long as it was good, and he had known that it would be. "I want this desperately."

"Should I give in to you, Mr Malfoy, or...?" A whispered word followed that, and a small vial flew into his outstretched hand. The thin-looking green liquid would ease the way nicely, Severus decided. "Or should I remember that detention is not a place to be pleased."

/Oh, MERLIN!/ If Severus said something like that again, he'd come all over the table and be damned with waiting or anything else! "Detention..." Draco whispered, squirming. He wasn't sure he could get the rest out. "D-detention is not a place to be pleased," he managed to agree.

"You're to be punished, Mr. Malfoy, not rewarded. Whatever misplaced ideal made you think you were going to be rewarded, you will forget immediately." The vial was opened, and dumped carelessly over the small of his back. Lean fingers followed after it, chasing a good amount down the cleft of Draco's ass.

"Y-yes, Professor." It was said shakily, but he could feel the slim blond arching back to his fingers, to his touch, shuddering beneath them wantonly. "I'll be good." It was a promise and quite possibly a lie; Draco had always had problems being just good. He was sometimes a little bad, sometimes almost good, sometimes excellent, and sometimes a wretched, horrible brat, but never, ever had he been plain 'good'. There was always fine print under anything Draco did -- if he was good, there was a sure motive behind the 'goodness'.

"That... would be very boring." One finger delved into Draco quickly, a stab of sensation. "You're Slytherin, not a Gryffindor."

That motion brought about a yelp of exquisite pain-pleasure. "Yes, Professor," Draco blurted out, chewing on the inside of his mouth to keep from begging for more. "I'll remember that, Professor!"

"Good, Mr. Malfoy. I don't want you to fail the house's memory just because you feel a need to be 'good'." It didn't pause or fail in motion -- that digit started to drive in and out of him, squirming and twisting. "Tell me when you can handle another."

"Now, now," Draco whined, wriggling against the cold tabletop desperately. Even if he couldn't handle another, he wanted one, wanted Severus's cock pounding into him. His own was rubbing deliciously across cool, smooth marble, and he groaned loudly as he shook his head back and forth between his arms.

"I think you're lying," Severus smiled, as he wormed his thumb in beside the first digit. "I don't care, however. This is for my enjoyment, and I will enjoy you, Mr. Malfoy."

It was enough to make a grown man come all over himself, Draco decided, groaning loudly at those words. /Yes. Yes. Yours, all yours, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.../ He didn't even realize he'd said it aloud as he shoved back to meet each push of finger and thumb, crying out in a low, steady sound.

The finger pulled out, and Severus twisted his slick hand down to cup Draco's heavy balls; all the while, he kept twisting his thumb. "Beg."

Oh, MERLIN, just those words made Draco's eyes cross! Never mind the feel of the man's thumb teasing deep in him. "Please!" he moaned. "Oh, Merlin, please, I'll do anything, Professor, anything, just please, PLEASE, God, yes, anything...!"

One more slick-fingered squeeze of his balls, and Severus pulled his hand away entirely, invading digit and all. "Spread your legs, Mr. Malfoy, and get up on your toes."

/Oh my TOES?/ Oh, he couldn't wait for this, he decided, and he obeyed. Feet came planted wide apart, weight mostly supported by the table as he shifted. "Please..."

He felt a slick, blunt nudge, and he realized that the lifting of himself onto his toes put him at the perfect height for Severus to just press against him. "Take a deep breath, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco closed his eyes, trembling, breathed in -- half-way through that breath, his lover shoved in deep. His cock was crushed against the marble table-top, at the very time that Severus drove heatedly into him. The yell he gave in response was half-pained, more pleasured, and he clenched tightly around Severus in reaction, head flinging from side to side momentarily with the sheer heat of it. "FUCK!" he moaned virulently, letting loose a heated little sob. Draco couldn't help it when his hips beat back needily, asking for more.

Severus's hands, strong despite their leanness, caught at his hips, forcing him back even with the table. "I will move -- you will take what I give you."

The effect those words had on Draco was visible; his back stiffened for a moment, and then the entirety of his body became not-quite-limp, offering itself up to him as the younger man gave a quiet sob of reckless craving.

Hands guided, held him still and pressed down against the counter as if he were an ingredient. Just something to be used and taken, as Severus's width pressed into him, and then pulled out, and then pressed in again. It built to a rolling, easy rhythm, and soon the scrape of robes against the backs of his thighs matched the ragged gasp of Severus's breath, his own desperate little pants.

"PLEASE..." It was hardly more than a whisper, yet desperately meant. The thought of doing this, being this way with Severus Snape, was unbearably enticing, and he was shuddering, so close. If he closed his eyes, Draco could almost pretend that any moment, any second, the classroom would be invaded by Slytherins and Gryffindors, that they'd all see Severus fucking him, and the fantasy was nearly unbearable as he cried out, trying not to shove back for more.

"At my own pace, Mr. Malfoy, because this is your punishment." Words without action to meet them, because Severus's hips were slamming faster, rolling and grinding into him with force. He could've come just from having Draco so limp and willing beneath him.

Punishment, yes, potions room, yes, naked, yes, together, yes, Professor, student, coming, yes, yes, yes, so close, so close, clenching tight, overwhelming, yelling out, not able to stop, not ever able to stop....! "Se...e....ah....ah....ah....." Draco knew he couldn't hold back much longer, another moment at most, and his tightly clenched fingers held even more tightly to the table.

A hot burst of liquid spilled into him, and the fingers grasping at his hips dug in mercilessly to hold him still. "Draco... Mine." Barely audible at all, over the panting huffs of Severus's voice.

Just the sound of it finished him off, and he sobbed quietly against the table when he finished, trembling violently beneath Severus as much with emotion as with cold. "Yes," he agreed, closing his eyes tightly. /God. Yes./

"Shhh." One soft order, as Severus eased out of him, and pulled him back off the table. The motion streaked semen over the marble work-top, before the potions master pulled Draco's body upright, and back against him. "Well served detention, I believe." He could feel Draco wobble against him, knees not quite willing to hold himself up as yet.

"I only hope to serve it often," the blond agreed with a little sound that was almost a laugh.

"Not too often," Severus chided, hands pressing against Draco's stomach to pull him back against the older wizard's front side. Opened robes brushed the skin of Draco's side. "That was perfect, however."

Arms wrapped warmly around his neck and Draco turned, leaned up, kissed him deliciously. "Flawless," he whispered, "when combined with everything else you give me. "

Whispered words against Severus's mouth were one more thing to tuck away as a treasured thing. "Let's go to bed now, Draco -- finish making the best of our time alone.. today. There's an infinity of opportunities before us, now."

With a look, Draco gathered his hands and tugged at him, pulling him towards the bedroom silently as footfalls. Draco's empty robe, a cast off vial, and the messy table laid as testament to their shared affections.

"My, little demon. Dobby thinks all will be very entertained by this," the house-elf muttered from outside the door, and all was quiet.

For a time.

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