Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/461405.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Draco_Malfoy
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-16 Words: 4285
****** A Lesser Man Might Swoon ******
by mmmdraco
Summary
     Draco attempts to sabotage Harry's potion. Snape catches him at it.
Notes
     Disclaimer: The characters in this story are mine only in spirit and
     voice. Their "likenesses", names, categorizing features, favourite
     activities (other than the randiness I like to make them engage in),
     studies, teachers, friends, acquaintances, etc., etc., belong to J.K.
     Rowling and not me.
For as long as I'd known the boy, I found him offensive. I didn't know what to
make of him, so I tried to make him the best he could be in the only way I knew
how. If he was anything like his father (only later would I know how very much,
yet how very little) he would rebel against my attempts to cage him and rise
above any barrier I could possibly give him in order to conquer me. Yet, this
morning, as I walked up the stairs to breakfast, I saw him coming down an
opposing staircase. He is all gangly grace with his too-long arms and too-long
legs strewn about him like ribbons at a gymnastics meet. He is older and wiser
and I can tell he passed by me without bothering to conquer anything I had to
offer. Yet, I can't help but hope he takes that offer as I see the intelligence
in his eyes now. For as much as his body isn't quite fully grown, the boy has
matured into a man. Harry Potter is no longer the child I found offensive. He's
become the young man I find intriguing.
At first, I didn't watch him so much as I took notice of him when he wanted me
to take notice of him. The boy is actually far more proficient at Potions than
I initially gave him credit for. I was not aware of just how much sabotage
actually occured in my classroom. A bit from one other person he should be able
to conquer easily. Yet, I've seen five boys in this class add ingredients to
his potion for today. He notices them all and manages to add the correct
counter-ingredients, though not in quite the correct dosages. It is no wonder
his potions are never the right color. I'm amazed he came so close to magenta
on the last potion if this is what he puts up with. I make a note of which boys
committed such a foul deed and make a note to test Potter's potion on them all.
It would be nice to have Potter leave my classroom with a smile on his face for
once.
At the end of class, after those five boys have been carted off to the
infirmary, Potter stops by my desk and takes several deep breaths before he
finds the words he wants to say. "Thank you, Professor. Perhaps I can get some
work done in class now!" He seems honestly excited about the prospect and the
sheer idea of that distracts me from the fact that Potter has been so
deliriously informal with me. A lesser man might swoon at Potter's lack of
discretion even with such distraction. I merely let it pass by my way without
coming in contact, choosing to stick to the paths of my own making. Let Potter
forge his own paths. Too many people follow the old paths which were carved
ages ago when I was young and dirt was new; all the more reason I do not notice
Potter's actions. I am decades his senior with no possible way to change such a
situation. If anything were to happen between us, we would still likely need
more than his consent and my consideration.
Though Potter has always been a bane to me, I can't help but think that since
he's changed, perhaps I have changed as well. I look the same, but I can
tolerate the boy now. I can find shock at the fact that he's gotten so tall
when he hasn't really been eating well and has been working too hard at doing
too much. He has muscles I've never even used from playing Quidditch and from
pulling weeds in Professor Sprout's greenhouses. He helps Hagrid with all of
his pets. He's rather invaluable, like some prized gem... and I never noticed
until he was dancing past me, saying, "I'm glad this isn't a tango... those
take two!"
I am besotted with the poor fool and I worry about what he's become. Lord
Voldemort still isn't dead, and he knows it better than anyone else, I believe.
Potter does not have the time to rob himself of that which he wastes away
anyway.
If Potter were a smart boy, he would run from everything that he could possibly
find within my arms. So far, he hasn't even begun to run to me, but there is
that chance, and a mere chance is all I need. Should I muck about and not
manage, it will have been because of something which I hadn't realized I'd
done. As it is, I can only hope for the best.
There are days when he smiles and the room lights up and everyone loves him,
then they beg to deny him that same happiness because they want everything
special that he has for themselves. The next day, his smile is just as big, but
nowhere near as bright. Everyone hates him, then they begin to forget about him
again. Then, he will overcome something, or do something to help someone, or
just be himself and the cycle will begin again. I can see that he's ready to
throw a wrench in the gears of his life; what I wouldn't give to be such a
wrench.
Today his smile has no wattage and I take notice of the way he handles his
cutting utensils in class. There's an enthusiasm in his gestures, and an
awareness of the blade, but he still manages to slice the tip of his finger and
I'd be worried except that there is a look of utter shock on his face. He takes
his potion off boil after tossing in a bit of extra water, holds his finger,
and approaches me. "Professor, may I go to the infirmary?"
I think I've gone mad when I answer, "Follow me into my chambers, Potter. I'll
heal you there."
He follows me, trusting, and I wonder how he can be so trusting of me now when
he never was before. What has changed? Surely it couldn't have been that single
deed done in difference. Then again, friendships and partnerships have been
forged on much less. If Harry Potter no longer considers me an enemy, perhaps
this is the perfect time to attempt to change his life. Whether he is open to
my invitation or not, things will change between us � change from this state
where I don't know what to think at all into one where I am sure of things,
regardless of whether or not I'm satisfied with the results.
In my chambers, I measure out a bit of a potion, just a few drops, and have him
set his finger in it. It stings, I know, so I take his hand and pull it toward
me, then place my lips to his affected fingertip for a kiss. He gasps just
slightly as he watches me do so, then turns his head and there's a startling
flush that's formed on his cheeks. He is a marvelous creature � responsive.
This will be fun.
He pulls his hand to himself a moment later, after I've had the chance to
stroke it gently with my fingertips, and clears his throat. "Professor... I'll
try to do better next time." He walks backward as he talks and collides with my
armchair. He is suddenly sprawled on the floor. I approach him and crouch down
next to him, extending my hand. His breath quickens as he willingly slides his
hand into my own, and I pull him up to a standing position. His body is only
inches away from mine and there's a throb of tension in the air. He backs up
very slowly, extending a hand behind him to prevent himself from hitting the
chair again. "Well, um... thank you again, Professor, or, er, for the first
time. Um, I'll just be getting back to class now, shall I?" He nods and I turn
a smile toward him and he looks shocked. His eyes are wide and his mouth is
slightly open and then he takes a moment to swallow. He turns and walks out, as
composed as I've ever seen him, and I'm amazed. The boy's a better actor than
even I gave him credit for. This may turn out to be more interesting than I
thought.
In the classroom, no one has been hexed. The Gryffindors have not been slain by
the Slytherins, nor even the other way around. Neville Longbottom's cauldron is
still intact. It is relatively peaceful. It's often like this whenever Potter
isn't around. Sometimes I think he's got a bit of Veela in him. Everyone
clamors for his attention; even me.
Once Potter is safely in his seat, Draco Malfoy's cauldron smokes with the
success of a perfectly brewed version of this potion. He is a good pupil, but
it's easy to recognize that it wouldn't hurt him to be a better person. I
compliment his potion as I always do, then take a moment to notice Potter's.
Nothing has been done to it, but it isn't quite finished since he's been away.
But, the boy was smart enough to realize that if he didn't add the extra water
to the potion, he wouldn't be able to add the final ingredient when the time
came. I mentioned as much to the class, then turned just in time to catch
glimpse of Draco flicking something toward Potter's cauldron. I caught it just
in time. It was a single peppercorn.
When Potter caught glimpse of what was in my hand, his eyes went wide.
"Professor, he's trying to kill me!"
Draco's eyebrows knitted. "I was not! That wasn't going to do a damned thing
except change the color."
Potter piped up, "Any idiot could tell I hadn't added the bicorn yet! If
peppercorn had been added into the mix before the bicorn, it would have
exploded and possibly killed anyone within a few feet. Thankfully; but only
since this isn't a large dosage."
I suddenly felt compelled to do something I hadn't done since my first year as
a teacher at Hogwarts, before I was made Slytherin head of house. "Five points
to Gryffindor, Potter, for your supreme knowledge of the contents of your
cauldron. Mr. Malfoy? Fifteen points from Slytherin for your utter lack of
restraint. You will serve detention with McGonagall for this, Draco. Keep that
in mind for the future." I paused. "Class is dismissed. I'll take care of
clean-up."
A few moments later, everyone but Potter has left. He is still attending his
potion. I look to him and begin to ask what he is still doing here, but he
beats me to the chase. "I'm staying until I finish this, Professor. I'm not
going to pass up the opportunity to actually get a potion right for once." I
cannot help but concede to his request.
As he works, I make my way around the room cleaning cauldrons and capping
bottles, clearing away extra bits of shredded herbs and washing the tables of
the remaining bits of snail. Finally, there is only Potter to be dealt with and
I'm hesitant to ask him to leave even once he's finished. I am his senior by
decades, his teacher, not good for him in the slightest, but I can't ignore the
pull that has me and doesn't seem to want to let me go.
I catch a wisp of smoke in my vision and turn to Potter. He grins at me, and
it's a challenge. I look at his potion, examining it. It is indeed the correct
color. It is also, by chance, the same potion which I used on Potter only a few
minutes ago. I look at him and pull a needle from my pocket. With him watching
in confusion, I prick the end of my finger, then touch the top of his potion.
The excess potion evaporates quickly as it touches my skin and the rest works
at my self-inflicted wound that has as much sting as a mosquito bite. Yet,
Potter reaches for my hand and brings my finger to his mouth and closes his
lips on the end in an innocently seductive manner. I'm awash in sensation and
I'm not quite sure if I can ignore this. He gently bites the end of my finger,
then pulls away. "Silly professor. You shouldn't make yourself bleed;
especially over something like me. I'm not worth it."
His eyes lock with mine and his shoulders suddenly draw my view... round with
the last vestiges of youth as he clenches my hand in both of his own. I shake
my head. "On the contrary, Mr. Potter. You are most decidedly worth it. Now,
please, the bell's about to ring."
He cleans up after himself quickly, then gathers his books and bag. He's about
to walk out the door when he turns and speaks. "Professor... thanks; for
everything, I mean. Thank �" He clears his throat and looks to the floor for a
moment, then connects with my gaze again, tapping into the raw energy flowing
between us seemingly without ebb. "Thank you, Professor. I really don't know
what I would do without you, especially now. You've proven yourself to be
something else these past few days. It isn't what I'm used to, but I think I
can get used to it... all of it." He pushes his glasses up his nose. "If you
ever need me for anything, even if it's just a spare set of hands, feel free to
ask." And, with that, he's out the door and not looking back again. This feels
so much like the type of situation where I should be upset, but I know this boy
will be back, and when he is, he'll be even more of a man. I impatiently await
the day when he sheds his last shreds of boyhood and becomes the kind of man
I've always hoped he might turn into.
Albus' head is sitting in the fireplace when I reenter my chambers to rest and
mentally prepare for my next lesson. He grins impertinantly at me and I can't
help but smile back, restraining it as much as I can. "Severus, my good boy,
word has it that you've given Draco Malfoy a detention with Minerva. Is this
true?"
I settle myself into an armchair in front of the fire. "Yes, Albus. I caught
the boy attempting to sabotage Potter's potion in such a way that would have
been tremendously dangerous, and possibly fatal. I couldn't stand back and do
nothing. I let some of my students get away with too much sometimes, I know,
but even I have limits."
Albus nodded. "Just checking, Severus. Young Mister Malfoy collided with me in
the hallway and complained as such to me, though he refused to actually say
what he had done. Would you like me to arrange his detention, Severus?"
I took a deep breath and nodded. "Heaven knows Minerva won't be happy
supervising him, but I don't trust myself to give him the kind of punishment he
needs. I am rather busy, so if you wouldn't mind, I'll entrust you with the
task. You'll see Minerva before I will as well. Make sure the boy gets at least
2 nights of detention. He's had it coming, I think. Thank you, Albus."
He bows his head to me. "Thank you, Severus. I trust I'll see you tonight at
dinner?"
"Yes, Albus."
"'Til then." Albus disappeared and left me to my own thoughts. I couldn't help
but turn them to Potter. He was turning out to be far more than I'd ever
bothered to see in him before. Why did I have to be so biased? Then again,
perhap this is for the best. Had I noticed him before, he wouldn't have been of
legal age for anything I'm attempting to put him through now.
I used this time to prepare for my lesson, but it was a good hour away. Perhaps
I only use it as an excuse to laze around. But, then again, having just
finished with the Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth years, I often find that I
need the time to rid myself of the headache which inevitably forms. As it
stands, today I have no headache, but I'm aroused. May everything good be
damned, but I'm aroused, and all because Potter can put my finger in his mouth
like he's a cocktease and still look perfectly innocent. The boy always has
been able to get me riled up, though never quite like this, nor to this degree.
Speaking will Albus calmed my mind, but certainly not my body.
When I hear a knock on my chamber door ten minutes later, I've managed to will
away most of my erection, though it refuses to fade utterly. Once I've opened
the door to see who might be bothering me, however, it rises to attention
again, fully aware of the kind of offer being made.
Potter is standing at my doorway, and has his robe wrapped around himself,
clutching it to him as though it is the first time he's worn it without
anything underneath. Likely, it is the first time, and it's exciting. There's a
soft flush about his cheeks and his breath is coming in little pants and gasps
as though he's run to me in excitement or anticipation. Before he can speak, I
force myself to play my role as a teacher. "Aren't you meant to be in class,
Potter?"
Harry grinned. "Divination, Professor. Trelawney saw that I wasn't meant to be
in class today last time I went. Therefore, she isn't expecting me. Though, she
thinks I'm dead."
"Too bad we must disappoint her." Old habits die hard. Fortunately, Potter does
not seem to notice, or perhaps he simply doesn't mind.
"May I come in?" Potter is still standing there, clutching at his robe, his
collarbone dangerously beautiful as it shows just slightly in the firelight. I
step back, and he enters. When I close the door, he catches my eye and locks
the door with a wave of his wand and a whispered word. "Thank you, Professor."
He wanders in and takes my place in front of the fire. I come up and stand
behind him, not wanting to sit in the other armchair. I'd much rather be closer
to him, even though I can't see his face from this angle.
"I've been thinking about you," he admits, finally letting go of his robe. "All
day, I've been seeing you in this new light, and I like what I see. I know it's
not exactly something given a thumbs up for a student and a teacher to, um,
hook up or what have you, but I'd like to give it a go, if you don't mind."
He'd been looking down to his knees, but he turned his head slightly and looked
up at me imploringly. "Please, Professor?"
I schooled my face into an unreadable expression. "Are you certain you want
this, Potter? Do you know what you're asking for?"
He smiled softly, his head turning more, then his eyes tracing my form beneath
my robes in a soft caress I almost felt, and nodded. "I'm asking for a kink in
the rope of life. I'm asking if you're willing to help me break free from the
monotony. Every day, it's always been the same damn thing. Either they love me
or they hate me, but it's just a damn cycle, and I want to break free. If I
don't, I feel like I'll lose sight of who I am. I'm Harry Potter, but I'm more
than just my name. I want everyone to see that. I want them to know that they
do not define me. I define me."
He's so confident. It's... odd. Potter has always had confidence that I've
seen, except perhaps when it came to Potions exams, but never quite like this.
Now, he is so certain that I'll help him that his confidence is overwhelming.
Like everything else he's done these past few days, it draws me in. Before I
realize what I'm really doing, my mouth is on his neck and his back is arched
and he's moaning and the sound fills the room and it's intoxicating. I've
agreed before I could even remind my mouth to move.
He forces himself to stand, pulling away from me momentarily, before taking
charge with a single word: "Bed." At his command, I lead the way. The thought
"I can't believe I'm doing this" comes to mind.
When we get to the bed, his hands are on me and working at my buttons and
divesting me of any bit of clothing that I might be wearing. He works his robe
off at well, nearly knocking his glasses off in the process. He looks
disheveled, but it's a good look for him.
His knees are on the bed and he turns and his mouth is on mine, and it's a
connection unlike any I've had before and his arms are around me and pulling me
down, and nothing seems to pause. It is all one line; one rope of life without
any kinks. I pull him to me and knot the rope, "Harry..." His eyes fly open
wide and he clings to me almost desperately. He doesn't say a word, though, and
it seems as though he might not.
Then, "Severus..." He gasps my name out as though it may save his life.
Perhaps, in his mind, this is saving his life, or perhaps just salvaging it.
I lay him down on the bed and take a bit of time exploring his body. I'm quick
about it, though, only because neither of us could possibly take the heat
that's threatening this encounter. His reactions confirm my earlier thought
that he is responsive. He's even moreso than I believed. He whimpers when I
kiss his knee, then gives a keening wail of want when I kiss the inside of his
thigh, still inches away from his cock that seems to have grown faster than the
rest of him. It is throbbing and dripping and he is wanting. I am giving.
I lick at his precum, even knowing that he must be close to coming. But, I
taste him and it's a fresh taste. I know Potter is at least virginal, if not
technically a virgin. He wouldn't be so overwhelmed by this otherwise.
I keep a tube of lubricant in my nightstand for my more private moments and I
find it now with one hand, though I knock over several books that I had sitting
on my nightstand. Potter grins at this, and suddenly he turns over. He's
grabbed my pillow and he's put it under his hips, but in such a way that I know
he's only heard about what to do, and has never actually done this. I shove him
up a bit and reposition the pillow underneath him. He gasps at the difference
it makes and spreads his knees in a wanton way, pushing himself down and
splaying himself out. It's a picture that a thousand words couldn't do justice
to.
I prepare him as quickly as I can to do it right, and then I'm behind him and
he's whispering words like "want" and "need" and making noises that are sending
me out of control. I ease up behind him and press gently and he accepts me
completely, so quickly, and I'm sent in a spin of the heady desire that he
evokes in me.
This joining is fast, but comfortable, and Potter seems to not feel any pain as
he presses against me in such a way that I know I can't keep this up for too
much longer. He is pressing down against the pillow more, as well, and back
against me, and the sensation is too much for him. He arches up against me and
it's enough change that I thrust against him a final time and come. He cries
out like this is cathartic and sobs words like "again" and "more" and even
"love" against the bedsheets. It is just enough that he can handle it without
it being too much.
Afterward, he lays in my bed and leans against me as though I'm the only
support he has. He is heavy on my chest, but it's a good pressure. I can't
imagine not having this, now. But, it's comforting, and I haven't really known
much comfort.
He goes to his next class after we clean up. I let him borrow some of my
underclothes. They don't quite fit, but it's close enough for the time being.
He'll be late to class, but he's said it's worth it. The part I liked most was
when he said he would be back after dinner. Perhaps we can have a game of
chess.
Some things happen in life without reason, perhaps only because someone has an
inclination for change. Then again, some things seem to happen with only the
most noble of reasons in mind. This is my chance for reason to win out even
when nothing makes sense. He is with me, and I'll be with him, and somehow
things will get better.
I look forward to the day I can have him without having to think about the fact
that this is technically against all of the rules of both the school and of
society. A week ago, this would have broken my own rules. But, things, and
people, change. And knowing that is the greatest wisdom of all; one that I wish
I had learned sooner.
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