The next afternoon, precisely at the appointed hour, Snape arrived for their first lesson. After inspecting all the rooms in the mansion, Snape chose a living room on the first floor with a semicircular sofa and a low coffee table with a solid sycamore frame and glass top.

"If we're going to duel here, we'll have to move this table to a corner, otherwise there won't be room enough," Harry commented.

"I have already told you that we are not going to duel. Don't forget you must not perform any magic during your holidays. If your Cruciatus had not failed yesterday, you would have been in trouble now."

"Well, but you would have been dead."

"As much as the idea may seem alluring to you, the chances of its occurrence have always been very scarce. But there's no purpose in pursuing this line of reasoning, Mr Potter. Sit down". Snape gestured towards the sofa. They sat at an angle to each other on the circular sofa. Snape slipped his hand inside his robe and produced a flask. "The first lesson should not pose significant difficulties, even for a dunderhead like you. This potion will help you to focus on a subconscious image. You must drink all the contents of the flask. I'll use Legilimency as a means to help you."

Harry paled. He took the flask with a slightly trembling hand, opened it and, closing his eyes, drank the potion.

"What is this 'subconscious image' thing?"

"Soon you will understand. Very well, Mr. Potter. You hate me. Focus on your hate. Can you imagine a way to attack me, to torture me? Surely, you have already imagined this sometimes, haven't you? How would it be, if you had me in your hands? If you could have your way with me, if you could vent on me all the hate you feel?"

Harry recalled the image he had visualised some days after the fake-Moody had taught them the Unforgivables, when Snape had pretended to ignore that Hermione needed to go to the infirmary because of the spell Draco had cast to make her teeth grow. He had imagined Snape under Cruciatus, flat on his back like fake-Moody's spider, jerking and twitching.

Suddenly, the image came true. Snape, on the ground, began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side, screaming agonisingly. Harry watched it with surprise and a subtle, perverted pleasure. Then Snape started to shudder and jerk more violently.

Harry buried his head in his hands, in utmost shock and then ran away from the room. Once on the landing, he threw up. Mrs Black began to shout, "Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers!"

Snape went out, his robe billowing behind him, marched down the stairs and managed to push the lady of the portrait back and close the curtains over her. Then he approached Harry, who had stopped vomiting.

"What is it, Potter? Was the scene too strong for your delicate sensibilities?" the professor asked sardonically, before casting a cleaning spell over the place.

"Spare me your sarcasm. It was horrible! I don't want to learn this."

"You did rather well, for a first lesson. Next time it will be easier."

"Easier! How can you be so cold? How can you teach someone something so horrible?"

"Potter, we are facing a war. And you know very well the content of the prophecy. It's kill or die, there's no other possible alternative."

Harry entered the living room again and slumped on the sofa. "I won't do it a second time."

Following him, Snape approached the boy, looming over him. "In case you are worried about my integrity, I assure you that not a hair on my head was touched. It was only a fantasy. Nothing happened to me. It's only a learning tool, to help you focus on an intense and negative emotion like hate and pave the way to learning the Cruciatus."

"I don't want to cast Cruciatus over anyone."

"Perhaps it won't be really necessary to cast it, but you should learn how to do it. We are talking about a war against the Dark Lord, Potter."

Harry stood in silence, not knowing how to argue. Snape took a deep breath and sat down on the sofa.

"Guilt has no place here, Potter. The fantasy induced by the potion is a subconscious one. It doesn't mean that consciously you would want it to come true. With this potion, the conscious mind loses control over the unconscious."

After a brief pause, he added, "I assure you that next time it will be easier."

When Snape arrived for the second lesson, Harry followed him to the living room on the first floor. As soon as they had entered, Harry said, in a constrained polite tone, "I've thought about it for a long time since yesterday and I've decided that I won't continue these lessons. I appreciate your effort, but I'm not interested."

"Sit down, Potter". They sat down on the sofa just like the day before. Snape stared at Harry. "Look, I admit the first lesson was a little... intimidating. Perhaps I have overestimated you."

Harry grimaced, his features contorting in an almost childish gesture. A dark brow arched in response.

"We can adopt a less... drastic method", suggested the professor.

"Why are you so determined to teach me? I can't understand you."

"I have already explained it, but you insist on not listening to a word I say... Now let's talk about what matters." Snape took two flasks from inside his robe and handed one of them to Harry. "Drink it all."

"Not before you tell me what you'll do this time."

"If I tell you, it won't produce the intended effect. I only assure you that... this time there will be no physical violence involved... At least not in the same degree as yesterday. And I will drink the potion too." Snape took the other flask, opened it and drank all its contents. "So you won't be afraid that I might be poisoning you."

Harry didn't feel more tranquil in any way. After all, what guarantee did he have that Snape had drunk the same potion he had given him? But Snape's presence was so intense, so imposing, that he finally obeyed.

"Very well. Now you're going to pay attention to what I say and obey me." Snape's voice was hypnotic. "Not because you are compelled to, but because that's what you want. You want to learn what I have to teach you. Now you're going to imagine that you..."

Snape's voice began to fade away, and Harry found himself on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. He was wearing the Gryffindor uniform. He was already mounted on his Firebolt, and hovering several inches off the ground. Suddenly, he glimpsed the Snitch near one of the goalposts and sped towards it. Approaching from the opposite side, at a vertiginous speed, Slytherin's seeker also launched himself towards the Snitch. It was... Snape! The surprise of seeing the professor as his adversary made him lose precious seconds, and Snape snatched the Snitch.

Suddenly, Harry was back in the living room on the first floor of number 12, Grimmauld Place, facing the triumphant smile of Severus Snape.

"What the hell..."

"You lost, Harry Potter. Slytherin won the Cup. I caught the Snitch", said Snape proudly.

"You cheated, you bastard! You created that setting!"

"Language, Potter. Admit that, this time, you lost. But I am a magnanimous person: I will give you another chance. This time, do not forget: it's on the hate you feel for me, on your desire to humiliate me that you should focus. It was not because I am a better athlete than yourself that I have caught the Snitch, but because I was more focused than you."

"Rubbish! You've taken advantage of my distraction, because I didn't know what was happening!"

"Don't be an idiot, boy! What I am trying to inculcate in your mind is that this is a battle of minds, not of physical fitness."

"Don't give me that! You've used me to make an old fantasy of yours come true. A very childish fantasy, by the way."

"Precisely. Your task now is to prevent me from humiliating you further."

Harry glared at him.

Harry lost again the second time. But on the third, Harry managed to defeat his professor and grabbed the Snitch.

"Don't count it as a great achievement, Potter. Somehow, although subconsciously, I wanted to lose. After all, if I am teaching you, you might as well learn something."

"Oh, great. Being a bad loser, you want to convince me that you've let me win."

"I don't have to endure your constant insults. There are limits to everything."

"All right... I'm sorry," huffed Harry, not quite sure why he was apologising.

Snape's brow furrowed. He stayed in silence for some time, then said, "Enough for today. It wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Well, I don't know what I have learned. After all, I already knew how to play Quidditch."

"Idiotic boy. What you have just done has nothing to do with playing Quidditch. Don't you understand?"

In the next class, the same ritual took place: Snape arrived and the two of them went to the living room and sat on the sofa; then they drank the potion. Snape spoke in the same hypnotic tone he had used the day before. "Now we will join our minds. I will try to force you to materialise my fantasy, and you will try to prevent me. This time, I will not use my voice to induce you, only the mental power. I am going to project a subconscious image that bears some relation to you, and this image will materialise before your eyes, unless you succeed in preventing it."

Suddenly, Harry found himself in the dungeons, chained and shackled by the wrists and ankles to a bed. Utterly naked. Through widened eyes, he saw an also thoroughly naked Snape approach him.

Snape took off Harry's glasses, placing them on the bedside table, and lay down over the boy.

"Call me Snivellus now, Potter!" he said, smirking. "Oh, if James could see us now! And Black! It's a shame they are dead. It would pleasure me to no end to see their expressions now. How they would be mortified to see me fucking their precious boy."

The older wizard pulled the boy's legs over his shoulders and, with a flick of his wand, pronounced the lubricant spell. He captured Harry's lips and began to suck his tongue, making him moan with desire. Then he pulled back a little, positioned his hard and swollen cock and began moving forward, penetrating him slowly. At first it felt uncomfortable, but soon enough Harry got used to the sensation and relaxed. Then Harry felt a sharp, excruciating pang of pleasure when Snape, now completely inside him, hit his prostate. Harry groaned, and Snape grabbed his bottom and pulled him against his body, making him grasp the sheets tightly. The rhythm set by Snape became faster and frantic. All the time, nevertheless, Snape took care not to hurt him.

When they were on the verge of climaxing, Snape sank his teeth into Harry's neck, and sucked it fiercely. Harry squirmed in pleasure. Then Snape offered his neck to his lover's mouth. "Bite, Harry, and suck with all your might."

Harry obeyed, and saw the blood flow out, hot, throbbing, over Snape's neck and chest.

"Sev... It's so good..."

"Harry... Come for me..."

Snape's words made the latest barriers crumble and Harry let himself climax in engulfing waves. With a glimmer of fascination in his eyes, Snape watched his lover shuddering over and over again before exploding in ecstasy too.

Panting, the two wizards found themselves back in the living room of the mansion at Grimmauld Place. For a brief instant, they gazed at each other. But soon they averted their eyes. Snape buried his face in his hands, silently. Then he got up and began to pace the room in circles.

"I... Potter... I could apologise, but I know it would be pointless. From now on, consider your lessons terminated." With a defeated expression, Snape ran his hands through his hair. "I have no doubt that you will report this event to the Headmaster. I know I will be sacked and I won't blame you for that. What I have done has neither excuse nor explanation."

Utterly confused and not knowing what to think, Harry finally looked at Snape. "But... it was only a fantasy. Nobody can be punished for a fantasy!"

"I am your professor, and I should not indulge in..."

"But you've said the potion activates the subconscious mind, and that we can't control the fantasy consciously."

"How can I face you now?"

Harry looked down, for he wasn't able to face Snape either. "Okay, but that's another problem. It has nothing to do with Dumbledore. This is something between you and me."

"Are you implying that you don't plan to tell the Headmaster?"

"Yes, I am. I won't tell him."

"Potter, you should ponder deeply over this question. Don't make a hasty decision."

"Look, it won't be me who's going to punish you for what has happened. By the way, nothing has happened!"

"That's not the way I envision it."

"But listen, you have said yourself that the potion helps to make subconscious fantasies come true, but that it doesn't mean that the person really wanted to do it consciously. You said so yourself. That it wasn't like the Mirror of Erised."

"Why are you trying to excuse my behaviour?"

"What behaviour? You haven't *done* anything! It was only a fantasy! Against which, by the way, I didn't fight..."

Snape glared at him. His normally pale face was flushed. "Anyway, I cannot teach you these lessons anymore."

Harry also felt himself blushing. "Hadn't you... hadn't you expected something like this to happen?"

"Of course not, Potter. What do you think I am? A monster?"

"I know how embarrassing this is... I can't accept all that has happened in the fantasy too... But... Why do you feel so guilty? What do you think you have done wrong?"

"Can't you see? Must I really answer this? And they say Slytherins don't have ethics!"

"I don't know why you're having this guilt trip. I can understand that it's embarrassing for you that now I know about this fantasy of yours, just as it is embarrassing for me that you know that I didn't fight against it. But I don't understand why you think it's wrong."

"You don't understand? So either there's really a big void inside that thick skull of yours, or your morality is shallower than the Dark Lord's. Let's see if I can... talk any sense into you. I am your professor. I am responsible for your education and safety. And I deserve to be respected as such. Well, when a person with this responsibility is seen doing what I have done in the fantasy you have just witnessed, it all falls to pieces."

"I repeat, it was only a fantasy. And, even in the fantasy, you haven't put my safety at risk."

"What a dignified example is this; a professor that not only has sex with his student, but does it with the student chained!"

"But I wanted to be chained! Nothing you have done was against my will!"

Snape narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "You're not in your right mind. Tomorrow you will awake and feel ashamed, nauseated by all you have witnessed. You will loathe me even more, and you will tell everything to Dumbledore. Now let me go. I would like never to see you again, but I do not believe destiny will be so merciful to me."

How had that happened? Snape could not accept it. The effect of the potions should have helped him to materialise an unconscious fantasy. He had focused on Potter, on his own desire to... get revenge from James... to humiliate James's son, the Golden Boy... to dominate him?

It was not possible to exert any control over the fantasy, except through an intense emotion. Like hate. That had been the idea. Hate would have guided the fantasy, and they would have waged a mental battle for control. However, what had happened was something utterly unforeseeable.

Well, surely unforeseen, but maybe not unforeseeable. After all, there was nothing strange in the fact that the hate had assumed a sexual form. Severus had to admit that there was nothing strange in that. The fact that he had never consciously admitted any sexual desire for Harry Potter had prevented him from foreseeing that development.

And the fantasy had gone so far as to involve... blood. Severus could not indulge in something like that.

If at least the boy had reacted! That was disturbing, too. Why hadn't Potter reacted? Perhaps, unconsciously, the boy yearned to be dominated that way. He recalled the scenes from Harry's childhood that he had witnessed during the Occlumency lessons. Yes, Harry had been abused, just like himself. It wasn't hard to imagine that the boy hadn't been... damaged somehow.

And that made him feel guiltier yet. He, who should have been an example to his student, had subjected him to ghastly treatment.

But the worst thing of all was that he couldn't stop remembering the scene. A shudder of pleasure ran through his body and made his cock stir irrepressibly every time he relived it.

Severus Snape, you are a perverted man. You ARE a monster after all.

I shouldn't keep thinking about that all the time, said Harry to himself. That's not normal. He hates me. He only has this fantasy because he wants to humiliate me.

His hard cock once again in his hands, and in his mind the same images: Snape's lips crushing his in a fiery kiss, Snape's cock inside him, Snape's hands pumping his cock. Then, once more, the physical relief, the sperm and the hot blood engulfing him. Afterwards, that feeling of hollowness, of the futility of everything. And more: the strange feeling of not recognising himself.

I don't want this. I can't want this.