Pier opens the door to me as always, already in character and prepared. If anyone is different tonight, it's me. I need to release the tension; it's becoming unbearable. Pier is my last hope of an outlet. It's terrible having to depend on such a pantomime. But it's this or drowning myself in alcohol and drugs. Or St Mungo's.

I embrace him. Pier, no, Potter, wraps his arms around me. I push him into bed, with restrained violence. I take off his glasses, laying them on the bedside table. I lie on top of him, crushing him under my weight, and take his lips in a desperate kiss. He writhes under me. The iridescent green of the bedspreads on which we lie emphasises his emerald eyes. Ah. I tear open his robes, pull off his shoes, socks, briefs. Quickly, I get rid of my own clothes. He stares at me in awe. Harry. So young, so fragile, so inexperienced. I fling myself on him again. Our bodies join as one, now with no clothes hindering the touch of our skin. I bite his earlobe. He embraces me fiercely and writhes more insistently. He... moans. This is new. So tender, so responsive? His eagerness excites me even more. I probe his lips with my tongue, teasing him. His lips open to me, and I capture them with mine. Our tongues meet and twist together, so hot, so wet. He plunges his hands into my hair. He was always amenable, but... he has never reciprocated with such longing. I whisper in his ear, "Harry... You are driving me insane. I don't know what to do any more when I am near you."

He gazes at me with those impossibly twinkling green eyes. I keep murmuring in his ear, "And you... you seem to desire me too." I stroke his face with my knuckles while I speak. "That's the reason why it is so hard for me to restrain myself. But... it's impossible, isn't it? You can't want me. You said you didn't hate me any more, but that doesn't mean that... I mean, you will always despise me, won't you?"

He shakes his head, as if denying. But I know the truth.

I continue speaking low, interspersing my words with kisses, soft bites and all kinds of caresses.

"I don't want to lose you. You are one of the few good things in my life. I also have my potions, my dungeons, and my Slytherins. But they have been part of my life for fifteen years, now they are routine. You have come to disturb my routine, but not in a bad way. It's strange how, even when I hated you, I wanted to protect you. Of course, I'm in debt to you, but that was not the reason why I protected you. You were a child, and still are. I know that you are becoming a powerful wizard... perhaps even now you are more powerful than myself. However, emotionally, you are a child. It's so wrong to want you the way I do."

"No!" he says very low, but with a strength that makes me shiver to the bones.

I stare at him, astonished. He seems frightened, but it's as if something inside him wants to break free. Something strange is happening. I tense up. Then I hear him saying, "I'm not a child any more. I know what I want, and I can defend myself. It's not wrong. It isn't!"

Then it hits me like a lightning. I sit up abruptly and look for my clothes. I have never felt so naked. I have never been so humiliated. Not even by his father, or his godfather. Gradually, another emotion takes over, and I grasp it with all my might, because it's my lifeline: fury.

He is sitting on the bed; I pull him violently by the arm and push him against the opposite wall. "You, insidious brat, what have you done to Pier? What are you scheming here? Did you want to debase me, to humiliate me? Did you want to see me make a fool of myself? What do you gain by this? Tell me!"

He gasps. He is terrified. "It's n-nothing like that," he says, with all his falsehood.

"What is it, then? Speak up!"

He throws himself in my arms, drained, as if in a last effort. For an instant, I remain paralysed, and he speaks. "Everything you've said you feel for me... I feel for you too. There's no reason to be ashamed. I don't want to humiliate you. I just want to be with you. If you like, you can cast a Memory Charm on me, like you always do with Pier. Please. I'd like to remember, because... you've said everything that I've always wanted to hear from you. It was perfect. But I don't want to lose you because you feel humiliated. And I don't want to upset you."

My treacherous arms wrap around him, fiercely. I still have the strength to choke, in time, a convulsive sound rising up from my throat.

Severus Snape, think. With your brain.

It is not an easy task. My hands roam up and down his back. Now the boy relaxes in my arms and buries his head under my chin.

Think.

What do I have to lose now? He says that this is what he wants. And why shouldn't I believe him, if he is willing to subject himself to a Memory Charm? He is to blame. He has created this impossible situation. I have already suffered the greatest possible humiliation. In any case, the Memory Charm is my only salvation. Why not to... fulfil his wishes?

How hypocritical of you, Snape. His wishes. As if you hadn't anything to do with them. He is your student.

Oh, but he didn't come here as a student. I repeat: it was he who created this absurd situation.

"Please enlighten me: what have you done to Pier?"

"I convinced him to go home and leave me here. Nothing else. I gave him something as a guarantee that I wouldn't steal anything from his house, you know. And I paid for the whole night."

Salazar! He spent a fortune to... I push him by the shoulders so that I can catch his eye.

"Have you gone insane? How did you find out... about this?"

"I can't tell you yet," he answers, and with a cynical smile!

"And when will you be able to tell me?" I say between gritted teeth.

"It depends on... your behaviour."

Ah-hah, that's a nice one. Sometimes I think that Filch is right: the teachers still should have permission to use the whip. Teachers. Best not to think of it on these terms, in an occasion like that: my student, who has paid a fortune to sleep with me, stands naked before me, and I, Severus Snape, tempted to humour him.

"Dumbledore will send an army to search for you, when he discovers that you aren't sleeping in your bed tonight, won't he?

"I told Ron that... I'd be with someone in Hogsmeade all night long."

"Do you believe that Dumbledore will be satisfied with that explanation?"

"I think so. I think he already knows everything, deep inside."

I must have become paler than usual. Paler than a corpse.

"What do you mean by 'everything'?"

"Everything that happens in the world."

Ha. I have this same impression. He is not joking, and I am not either, but this is not the time to think about that. "Potter, if I'm going to erase your memory in the end, why not to erase it now, so that we can go back to Hogwarts immediately?"

"No. I haven't done all this just to return in the same state as before."

A sardonic smile would have to creep onto my lips at that, even against my wishes. "You are determined not to return to Hogwarts as a virgin, is that it?"

He blushes, and doesn't say a word. Damn. That was a tactical error on my part. He is withdrawing more and more into his shell, and I am not getting the answers that I want. Well, after all, why would I want to know what goes on in the mind of a sixteen-year-old?

I insist. "You will not remember. What is the difference?"

He stares me with an intense glow in his eyes. "You will."

He is paying a fortune to give himself... to me. And he doesn't want anything in turn. I am not used to receiving such presents. It is hard not to feel touched by that. I cling to him as if I am a castaway and he is the only solid rock in sight, and I take him back to bed.

For the first time, I look at him, naked, knowing that he is... Harry. I gaze at him for a long time, savouring that body that I already know, but that seems entirely new. He blushes again.

"It's strange to think," he says, "that you had already seen me... like this."

"No. It wasn't you. It was like a... puppet. A sad, lifeless puppet." He wouldn't blush like you do. He wouldn't wiggle at each caress made to him. He wouldn't writhe as if longing for my body next his. He wouldn't gaze at me with this look of pure desire.

I can talk with him freely, as if we could really understand each other, as if we had a relationship. I can even be romantic or dramatic. He won't remember anything afterwards. It makes me feel more at ease. It is sad, however, because it is not real. Even now, it is not real.

Since he is giving himself to me as a present, I want to pay him back in kind. I want - I wouldn't say that I want to make this night unforgettable for him, because this possibility doesn't exist, but... I want to give him what he wants. To fulfil any of his wishes. To be his slave.

His heart beats hastily.

"Potter..."

"Call me Harry. Please."

"Harry, I will do only what you want me to. If you change your mind, at any moment, let me know, and I will stop."

He smiles, noticeably more tranquil. And he teases, "At any moment?"

Clearly, he doesn't even know what he is playing with. He doesn't know anything. That proves how brave he is. Or how reckless he is. Anyway, I have to prove myself worthy of his present. "At any moment. Do not forget it. Here, tonight, you are the one calling the shots."

"But... I don't know what to do."

"Tell me what you want. It's a good beginning."

"Oh. I want... a kiss."

If I weren't already as erect and hard as I can be, I would have become so at that moment, just from hearing the innocence, the candour in his voice. Obediently, I lower my head and slightly, very slightly, brush my lips against his. I feel his sweet breath on my face before our lips meet. When I lick his lips, he closes his eyes and searches for my tongue with his, as if eager to taste me. He moans. I am melting. Our bodies are melting together, all the way down, skin to skin, and Harry holds me fiercely, as if afraid to lose himself in the sensations.

I explore his mouth leisurely and thoroughly, sucking, teasing him to suck me too. Inexperienced, he reciprocates the kiss with enthusiasm and, either by mimicking me or giving rein to his own inspiration, he learns very fast.

I'm losing my breath. I tear my lips from his for an instant. His hands frame my face. I close my eyes and feel his warmth. He's so hot, and I am too.

I have never slept with someone so affectionate and so receptive to my caresses. Also I have never slept with someone so inexperienced, but... this is part of the magic of the night.

I open my eyes and observe him. He is so beautiful. Surely, I had seen his body many times before; the firm and smooth skin, the impetuous cock rising from the dark bush of his pubic hair. But now, now it is really him, and that makes an enormous difference. I cannot believe that he is here... to be mine.

He drapes... oh... one leg over mine, making me gasp. My hands roam his body, exploring every piece of skin. He rocks his hips against mine, almost unconsciously.

I sit straddling him. Delicately, I massage his neck and shoulders, his chest, his stomach. I circle his navel with my thumb, then his nipples, one at a time. He stares at me, holding his breath. Slowly, very slowly, I lower my head. I rub his cock with my nose, inhaling his musky scent. Always teasing, I lick his inner thighs, nuzzle his pubic hair, cup his balls in my hands and squeeze them lightly. I lift my head to see his expression. He gazes at me, looking mesmerised, totally focused on what I am doing. Lowering my head again, I finally touch the tip of his cock with my tongue. He involuntarily bucks his hips into me. I lick from the base upwards in broad slow strokes. I savour each piece of smooth skin, moving my tongue from one side to the other. When my tongue reaches the ridge of his head, I retreat back to the base and retrace my path. My licking changes to kissing, my kissing to sucking. Finally, I cover his tip with my lips. Harry moans his pleasure loudly. I take a breath and slowly descend onto him, opening my throat to receive its length. Then I move up, sucking still as I draw away.

Again and again, I repeat the action, gradually increasing the rhythm. He writhes beneath me, and I feel him throbbing.

"Severus... I'm going to..."

I know, Harry. Soon, I feel him spasm, every muscle in his body tensing for an unending instant, until he fills my mouth with his hot semen, his entire body pulsating wildly.

I lie on top of him, my cock still hard. He gazes at me as if worshipping me. I adjust his legs so that my cock can slide between his thighs. I kiss him, first tenderly, then fiercely, while I thrust against him, until my own seed spreads over his legs.

~*~*~

Suddenly, he looks at me with a strange smile. Back to reality, I see what I am doing: mixing his semen with mine, absently, with my finger, over his belly. It's a gesture so weirdly intimate and childish, that I could never imagine myself doing it. He smiles at me with... tenderness.

"You were so focused. Like when you stir a potion."

"Ha. It would be a very dangerous potion, for us both, if someone took hold of it. I shiver at the mere idea." I pronounce a cleaning spell. "We can start all over again," I tell him. "What do you want now?"

"Oh, wow. Eager, are we? It's me who's sixteen here, not you!"

"Really? One might wonder," I say, just to humiliate him.

Truth be told, I don't believe I can have another erection so soon. However, if I begin now, I would be able to torture him longer.

"And so, what will it be?" I insist.

"I... I want... everything."

I smirk. "Demanding, are we?"

I start to kiss him slowly, biting his lower lip, then the upper one, teasing him with my tongue, not letting him catch hold of it. At the same time, I insinuate my hand between his thighs, and start to play with his tiny entrance. I feel him tense at the moment that I touch him there, but I am only rubbing him, circling him. I focus my main energies on the kiss.

When I interrupt the kiss, I keep massaging his perineum. Harry is not so tense any more. His eyes begin to get cloudy. "Tell me if that's what you really want," I whisper in his ear.

"Yes, that's what I want." He pretends to be sure, but his body trembles.

"Wait a minute."

I go to the chair where I had left my robe and take out the lube from one of its pockets. He widens his eyes. Returning to his side, I cover my fingers with the product. I touch his perineum area carefully, massaging it again. He tenses anew.

"Don't forget that you are the one who gives orders here. Do you want me to stop?"

He gathers all his courage once again, almost choking. "No!"

I know his body. It is true that he reacts very differently from Pier, but knowing him intimately has some benefits. I keep circling his entrance, delicately, bringing him new sensations, stimulating him. When, I finally introduce the first finger, I feel him shudder. His flesh, hot and moist, closes around my finger. Tremulous, I lean to kiss him. He closes his eyes. How incredible: I'm hard again. He is half-hard, which is a good sign. I feel him relaxing, and move my fingers deeper. He bucks his hips.

"Relax," I tell him, not recognising that coarse, broken voice as my own.

Salazar, if he asks me to stop now, it will be hell. So, I will have to use some tricks to distract him. I lower my mouth to his nipple, circle it with my tongue, bite it gently, blow on it, lick the already hard peak. He wriggles, and now I can flex my finger slightly inside him.

"Yes. That's it," I say, trying to calm him.

I withdraw my finger a little and, plunging it again, I add a second. He gasps, biting his lower lip. I turn my attention to the other nipple, sucking it, squeezing it, just to distract him from the invasion. I plunge deeper, with the assurance of someone who has already travelled this road and knows where to go, until... oh. He arches his entire body and murmurs something incomprehensible. Then he stares me in awe. "What... ?"

"Oh, that's a tiny and magic gland called the prostate. That's the reason why it is not bad being, as people say, the 'bottom'. However, not everybody feels what you have felt. Also it doesn't happen always."

"If... you do it again once or twice, I'm going to come again."

"That would be terrible," I joke.

Now he is totally hard, and we both are covered in sweat.

I stretch him a little further. He tries to pull my fingers deeper into him, building up a rhythm... I withdraw my fingers slowly. At first, he looks at me with disappointment. When he sees that I'm holding the flagon again and lavishly spreading the lube over my erect cock, his eyes sparkle in expectancy. My hands tremble wildly. I can't remember ever seeing them trembling so much. Perhaps under some Cruciatus that I, Merlin be praised, don't remember.

"You... still can go back, Harry. From now on, it will be more difficult for me to stop. You must be sure."

"They say the first time is always painful, I know. But I don't care. I want to feel you inside me."

I would want to protect him, to say that it won't hurt, but what would be the point of lying? Soon he will know. One cannot describe or explain an experience like that.

I kiss him again, almost tenderly. Then I spread his legs and lift his hips, searching for the best angle.

"Harry," I whisper, leaning over and penetrating him.

Oh! I didn't expect it could be so good! How different from Pier. Could it be because he really desires me as I desire him? So hot, so tight, and he welcomes me with such eagerness. So perfect. I must make a supreme effort not to slam him down and ravish him. He shudders, arches against me, and grabs me fiercely, digging his nails into my skin. I cup his cock in my hand, making him pant and moan. Oh, each moan that he lets out seems to echo in the very marrow of my bones, and excites me in a nearly unbearable way. I lie on top of him, propped up on my elbows. He wraps me with legs and arms, and I move inside him, slipping in and out at the slowest rhythm I can manage.

"Oh! Severus," he murmurs, following my rhythm.

The friction of our bodies together is more and more intense, and I pump him in the same rhythm of my thrusts. Faster and faster. Our hearts beat wildly, our sweat blends together and run down our skins. I feel him starting to throb, so I squeeze his cock, rubbing my thumb over his most sensitive vein. Finally, Harry climaxes, covering my hand with his dense and warm fluid. I grab him with all my might and thrust harder, faster, deeper into him. Gradually, I'm dragged into the same vortex of pure bliss.

"Harry," I whisper again, releasing my semen inside him. "My Harry."

~*~*~

I must have slept for a few minutes. I am waking up, feeling his body next to mine. I pull him against me. He opens his eyes.

"Severus... I, uh, want to ask you something."

"What is it?" I ask, concerned. He seems sad. Did I hurt him?

"Please... I don't want you to erase my memory. I want to keep it with me forever. And... I don't want this to be the last time."

I raise my head. What is he saying? I stare at him, intrigued. "Why?"

He gazes at me, first in astonishment, then with sadness and disappointment. Bloody hell. What have I done wrong now?

"Was it so bad? You... don't want me any more?" he says, trying to keep his voice steady, but failing completely.

Oh, Merlin. This boy is a more powerful wizard than me, and yet, emotionally, he's as crippled as myself. Am I hurting him? Nonetheless, I must understand what goes through his mind. I must ask. "What is it that you want from me?"

"What I want? Why do you have to be so impossible? I want you. Always. Forever."

I cannot believe him. "Are you insane? Why would you want an old and ugly creature, with a colossal nose, greasy hair and sallow skin, that will never give you flowers and chocolates, that will never recite poetry in your ears? You are The Boy Who Lived, and you can have any lover you fancy. There must be a thousand lovers better than me, capable of giving you the care and the affection you need."

"I don't want anyone else. I only want you."

I shake my head, in despair. The teenagers and their big words. Never. Nothing. Nobody. Always. Everything. Forever.

Somehow, my reaction, or non-reaction, seems to have calmed him. He makes a knowing nod, as if understanding my game. "Did you think," he says, "that I wouldn't want you after the first time?"

I will not reply to this. Problem is, if I don't do something, he will keep talking. Or he will want to have sex again, and I don't have the energy for that now. Time has come for a diversionist manoeuvre.

"Listen, let's have tea." I leap off the bed and go to a wardrobe. "Sometimes I think that Pier's room is like the Room of Requirement: everything we need, we find. It's amazing."

I produce two dressing gowns from the wardrobe. I toss him the red and golden one, with a rampant lion stamp, and I put on the green and silver one, with a sinuous serpent.

~*~*~

A cup of Earl Grey, apple cakes and a sixteen-year-old lover. Much better than the Room of Requirement or the Mirror of Erised. Severus Snape, if this is the Beauty and the Beast, who knows, perhaps you have been transformed into a Prince. Is there a normal magic mirror here, so I can check?

Ahem. Let's focus on more serious issues.

"And now, have I earned the right to learn how you unveiled my secret?"

"I'm not sure... Do you promise not to erase my memory? And that you'll meet me again here?"

"What are you saying? Meeting you again here?"

"Yeah. Why not? I'll pay."

I show him my most offended expression. "Are you mistaking me for a whore?"

"Er. N-no. I'm just going to pay for the room. On Friday nights."

"You won't do anything of the sort."

"I won't?"

"No, you won't. Do you know that I have a house?"

"Oh! The Snape Manor!"

"Ha ha ha. That's a nice one. The Snape Manor. No, sir. My father left me only hideous memories as legacy. That house I acquired with my miserable salary. A small cottage, on the edge of a wood, far from the nearest city. A sitting room, a dining room, a kitchen, two bedrooms and a Potion laboratory..."

He rolls his eyes, as if thinking, "I should have known". Suddenly his expression changes, and he looks at me with an ear-to-ear smile. "You mean... Are you inviting me to..."

"That remains to be decided. Until the end of this night, I might have second thoughts." Or you might. "Now tell me your story. My patience is running out."

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, might not live this time. Not after telling me the appaling story of how the Weasley twins sent my Quidditch Captain on a trip through the pipes. Not after I came to know that my reputation is in the hands of the same Weasley twins. Not after I concluded that Harry Potter must be a descendent of Slytherin. There cannot be another explanation.

"The Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," he says.

He is so Slytherin that he deceived the Hat, forcing it not to put him in Slytherin. He's not more Slytherin than Albus, it is true, but a fight between the two of them wouldn't be easily decided. "So not even the delinquents themselves know where they sent Montague to?"

Eating an apple cake, he only nods.

"Then we go back to zero," I state.

"Why don't you ask Kai to make a Sandpainting ceremony for Montague?"

"Mr Potter, sometimes your brain seems to function. It is a rare phenomenon, but it happens. Yours is not a bad idea. Kai had already suggested it to me; however, I was waiting to see if I could discover more solid information on what had happened to Montague."

"Ron thinks that Montague is better now, because he was a harsh and stupid git. I fought with Ron because of that. Do you reckon that Montague's going back to be like he was?"

"Weasley said that? And you fought with him?" I try not to demonstrate that I am... flattered by that. On behalf of my House. "Nobody knows for sure what will happen to Montague, but the whole concept behind the Healing Ceremony is to reintegrate the personality. Hence, I believe that he will be able to recuperate what he has lost with the 'accident', and at the same time he won't forget his more recent experiences."

Harry stares at a distant point, contemplative. "After Kai made the Sandpainting for me, you know, I started to feel the Castle in a different way. Now I have a kind of bond with the Castle. And I know that Dumbledore also has this same bond."

Ah-hah. So that's how Albus always knows what happens inside there?

"Harry... If we are going to pursue this... we must be very careful at Hogwarts. If it is true that Albus has a special bond with the Castle, that he can feel anything that happens inside there, we must behave like monks while we are in the Castle precincts."

"Like we have been doing until now. Because otherwise you'll go to Azkaban."

"Yes. Your virginity is still a commodity highly valued in the market, because you haven't reached age of consent yet. However, this will change in a few months..." I smirk, and he looks at me intrigued, not knowing if I'm joking or not. "Anyway, I don't want to lose my job. It is not the job of my dreams, but it's the only one I've got." I see him looking at the teapot. "Do you want more tea?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to call me 'Sir' here, but a modicum of politeness is still appreciated."

As expected, he rolls his eyes. "Yes, please. Sir."

I pour a cup for him and another for me. He takes another cake.

"It would also be wise if you stopped fighting with Ron Weasley," I advise him.

"What? Why?"

"He might cause you problems. It is wiser to have him on your side. He is only jealous of Granger. And of you too."

"Jealous of me?"

"As a friend," I explain. "You haven't been talking to him these days as often as you used to do."

"I can't talk to him because he's... prejudiced and..."

"Ah-hah, I have no doubt of that. He is horrible."

He gives a sardonic smile. "Poor Ron, you're right. It must be a nightmare: he thinks that he's lost his two best friends, and to... Slytherins!"

Suddenly I feel... happy. We are managing to play with those big words that separate us. To play. Have I ever used these words in a non-negative sense? Sincerely, I can't remember.

I finish a cake and empty my cup. "Since this is the night of disclosure, I will tell you a story myself."

He is all attention now. I continue.

"It is true that Kai's parents are working in the Department of Mysteries, but they are not developing any secret project there. The truth is that they only came to Britain to bring Kai and transmit through him all the information necessary so that I could develop the Sandpotion."

"Wicked! So that story was just a smoke screen?"

"Precisely. The Headmaster had this brilliant idea of inviting Kai to Hogwarts. It seemed more practical than trying to devise a plan to secretly put me in contact with his parents. It wasn't easy to convince his parents to bring him, because of their traditions. I don't even know how the Headmaster managed to do it. As is typical of Albus, he only informed me of his plan one week after Kai had already been sorted into Slytherin and everything was set in stone. And I hope you won't be disappointed to learn that it was also Dumbledore who... suggested that I included you in the project."

"So you forced me to take Remedial Potions because..."

"Oh, no! You had to take Remedial Potions because you were and still are a disaster in Potions!"

He pouts.

"What I am saying is that, if it was up to me to decide, you would continue to practise Potions and nothing else. However, the Headmaster insisted: 'It will be very good for him to participate on this project, Severus'," I mimic Albus's voice, making Harry laugh. Another rare experience in my life. I am not used to making people laugh. Except for my Slytherin snakelets, now and then.

"You can't say he was wrong," says Harry, thoughtful. "It's really done me good. And I gave my contribution to the potion, with my brilliant idea of the Mormon Tea."

"Your modesty is astonishing. That was just a detail in the whole process."

He glares at me. I pretend not to pay attention. "The Sandpotion is very effective. I believe that, depending on the dosage of ingredients, we can derive many sub-potions from it, with various effects. There is still much research to be done."

"Do you... Can you tell me whom you are testing the potion on?"

"Well, well. On whom do you think?"

He arches an eyebrow. Is he starting to resemble me? "On the Death Eaters?"

"Spot-on. The earlier tests I distributed among various Death Eaters from inferior ranks. At first, with highly diluted doses. Then I elevated the doses gradually. I could not risk being caught. But now that we are approaching the final stages... I've chosen Mulciber as my guinea pig." The horror expression in the boy's face makes me fear that I might be going too far, that he might not understand me. I try to justify myself. "Don't look at me so aghast. He is sordid. A real monster. Dolohov and the Lestranges are worse, it is true, but they are too close to the Dark Lord, it would be too risky. Mulciber is not as close to him, but he is vile. I haven't told Albus that I was going to do this because... I didn't want to put him in another morally difficult situation. It's always like that: I try to spare him from the morally ambiguous choices."

"Assuming all of them yourself?"

I shrug. "At any rate, I didn't believe the potion could have any negative effect. About two weeks ago, I gave him a dose of a modified version of the Sandpotion, a stronger version, which I call 'Sandpotion B'. I mixed it in the fifth or sixth glass of Firewhisky that I poured for him. He got completely... how is it that they say... stoned. He went into another dimension. He kept staring into the unfathomable nothingness, babbling incoherently, smiling like a fool. I sent him home and told all the others that he had drunk too much - which wasn't exactly a lie, and happens all the time. Then... he never came back! The Dark Lord called him last week, twice, and he didn't show up. Yesterday night I was sent to search for him at his house. He wasn't there, but his brother, who lives with him, told me that Mulciber's Dark Mark had disappeared, and that, afraid of what the Dark Lord might do when he discovered, he had decided to disappear too. His brother said also that Mulciber had changed a lot and didn't want to be a Death Eater any more."

"Blimey, that's brilliant! Do you think that the potion changes people's personality?"

"I cannot be positive yet. But isn't it amazing? We discovered a way to eliminate the Dark Lord's influence over the Death Eaters!"

"You... you can get rid of your mark," he says, full of hope.

"Do you feel repulsed by the mark?"

"No! But wouldn't you like to be free of..."

I interrupt him. "Oh, no. This mark is my passport to his inner circle, and I must be as close to him as possible."

"Ugh!" He grimaces, then stares at me with dreamy eyes. "Do you think Kai can be right? That we can 'convert' Voldemort? With that potion?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to delude myself with vain hope. Also I don't want to risk my position, at least for the time being. He doesn't drink or eat anything offered by anyone. We want to be careful. I don't want my cover to be blown."

"You know..." He seems to waver.

"What is it?"

"I don't know if I trust..." he pauses, and my blood freezes. "... Dumbledore."

I feel, at the same time, relief and concern. "Why?"

"Since I've entered the mandala, I have a clearer notion of his powers. Of everybody's powers." He looks determined. "And I feel that he's infinitely more powerful than Voldemort."

"But you don't know how powerful the Dark Lord is, do you? I thought you only could feel the power of the wizards in Hogwarts."

"Yes, but I can feel Voldemort's power in my dreams. And I feel that, even now, Dumbledore would be able to defeat him. Easily."

"That's not possible, Harry. Why wouldn't he do it then?"

"That's exactly what I don't understand. Could it be that he believes blindly in that stupid prophecy?"

"Do you believe that the prophecy is a fraud... as I do?"

His eyes twinkle. "I do. I can't understand how anyone as intelligent as Dumbledore can believe in such codswallop."

"I have always been mystified by that."

It's so good to be able to talk with someone! I didn't even notice how I missed that. Someone as haunted by doubts and anxieties as myself. Someone who feels that those doubts might be their death, one day. Someone who is also a victim of both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. Even if he is a totally involuntary victim, while I have buried myself with my own hands.

On the other hand, it is easier to accept the risk when it is your own life at stake. Knowing that he is exposed to danger... that is a different story. I would like to protect him, to take him away, far away from this entire nightmare.

However, for us, this nightmare is life itself, isn't it? We wouldn't be together if we didn't share this same nightmare. We can't live our whole lives waiting for a perfect future. We can only count with what we have here and now. Perhaps the ideal moment would never come to existence.

In a certain way, this is a turning point for me. I'm switching sides... again. Protecting Harry is now my priority, and not any political agenda from any of the sides fighting in this wretched war. I won't say that I won't do the dirty work for Dumbledore. He is infinitely less dangerous than the Dark Lord. But I will play his game only for Harry's sake, and as long as it doesn't put Harry's life in risk.

Our cups are empty and so is the teapot. I get up and lead him back to the bed by the hand. I take off his dressing gown, then mine. We snake our way under the green blankets and sheets. I prop my head on my hand, resting my elbow on the bed. We are face to face, and I slide my hand down the side of his body.

"I want to ask you something," he says.

"Go on."

"Pier told me that... er... that you've been coming here for about ten months now. And that you've always used the Polyjuice Potion."

I feel cold in the pit of my stomach and my whole body tenses. That's not a subject I would like to talk about with him. "And?"

"Well, I... I wanted to know if... if Pier has always impersonated me, since the first time that you came here."

It couldn't get worse. If I tell him everything, it will be difficult not to succumb to the temptation of casting the Memory Charm on him, because... I will never be able to face him again.

"I didn't want to tell you this, Harry. Sincerely. But if you are going to keep imagining things in your foolish head, perhaps I should tell you once and for all. I have never said that I am a good person. Never. Don't tell me that I didn't warn you."

He rests a hand on my chest, so fragile. I try not to give in to my protective instincts. I have to be merciless now, if I really want to protect him.

"I started coming here by the end of that term, when Umbridge took control of Hogwarts. I needed an outlet for all the tension of being a spy. And it was a long time since I had a lover. How would I find a lover? At Hogwarts, there were no options. Among the Death Eaters? It would mean adding another risk to all the ones I was already facing. The Polyjuice Potion was just a... funny idea I had, to fulfil one of my fantasies, in a twisted way. Not that my sexual fantasies were exclusively with you. It was simply more practical to choose a unique person. If I had had access to any part of Black's body, perhaps I would have used him. I hated him much more than I hated you. But he would never let me get as close to him as to catch one of his hairs. While you, well, on that very day when I caught you snooping in the pensieve with my memories, you left a lot of hairs around my office. I couldn't think of anything but getting my revenge on you after that, and that's the reason why I have kept them in an envelope. Some weeks later, when I decided to look for... someone like Pier, someone amenable to fulfilling my fantasies, I remembered that."

He is all attention. If he were so attentive in my Potion classes, he would be my best student. The tension between us makes me sick. I want to finish with this right now.

"Well, Harry... It was a fantasy, foolish as they can be. I would come here and have you kneel at my feet, suck my cock, get on all fours in front of me... Those and many other things that perhaps I will never tell you. I had a lot of fun."

"But tonight... when you arrived tonight, you said that..."

"Since you started to get closer to me, everything changed. It was a gradual process, wasn't it? First you said that you didn't hate me any more. Then Kai and the Headmaster kept warning me that you were depressed, that you were being attracted to the Dark Path, but I dismissed their concerns until... until that night, when you tried to cross the veil. Perhaps Mrs Clauschee is a real seer... I can't believe it was just a coincidence that the Clauschees called me precisely that night. Bloody hell, boy... Just of thinking that I could have lost you forever, I panicked. That day I noticed that what I felt for you wasn't hate any more. Until then, I could delude myself, but after that... Nonetheless, I tried to protect myself from those feelings. For several weeks, I stopped coming here, imagining that, if I stopped with the fantasies, I would be able to distance myself from you. I tried to drive you off, but... you came back. I started to think that... that perhaps you wanted me too. Then my fantasies changed. Every Friday I would come here and stage the same foolish tale, in which you desired me and I would be your first and give you so much pleasure that you would want to keep me forever."

I pull him to me and bury my face in his hair, because I can't stand facing him any more. Now I'm sure that I will have to erase his memory. There's no other way.

However, he hides his face in my hair too and whispers, "I had the same fantasy. Only I didn't have Polyjuice Potion to help me. I had to satisfy myself with my imagination and... my hands."

The image of Harry masturbating while thinking of me has powerful effects in my body and soul.

Then he tangles his fingers in my hair and withdraws a little to face me.

"Tell me... You aren't with me to... It's not some kind of revenge over my father or something like that, is it?"

Ha! The human mind has many layers. In one of them, I am laughing at James's face, because I am fucking his precious son. But not even I would be able to delude myself thinking that this has any importance now, nor could I mention anything so cruel to him in such a vulnerable moment.

"I don't see James Potter anywhere on this bed," I reply. "Please do me a favour and keep him out of it. I have many perversions, but necrophilia is not among them."

He smiles, and his eyes shine so brightly that make me blink. "Severus, this night... was so perfect that, if I told, nobody would believe me."

And all because of your Slytherinish plan. You have won, impossible brat. I won't erase your memory. I want you to remember, I need that. Now you carry a part of me with you.

My hand searches for his cock, hard and erect again, and hold it with a possessive grip.

"Now it's your turn to top," I tell him.

Once again he stares at me in awe, as if the world has turned upside down.

The End?

Not really. The story continues in "Almost One Thousand and One Nights".