A Lesson Learned
"No," insisted Harry. "It's too dangerous. You haven't started the potion, and I'm taking it back."
"But Harry," argued Hermione, "you've done the difficult part. I've already agreed to help with the brewing, and you've served your detention."
"Yeah, mate," said Ron, "if you take it back now, you risk Snape catching you again." Ron paused for a moment. "Harry, what happened to you with Snape? I mean, you really wanted this and now look, you don't want to get caught, do you?"
Maybe he did, at that. Harry couldn't stifle a distracted little half-smile. Ron frowned, confused, but before he could start asking questions, Harry's smile turned grim as he wandered further back in the memory of that evening, seeing a normally unflappable, sarcastic Snape alternately rage-filled, and shuddering and speechless. And fearful. Harry said quietly "Snape said it was really dangerous. Enough to get me sent to Azkaban for stealing it. Look," he continued, "I want to win, and I really appreciate your willingness to help me, but I'm not risking Azkaban for any of us just for a stupid contest. I'm taking it back, and that's final."
The storeroom door closed behind him with a tiny click, and again it was only then that Harry dared take a full breath. He exhaled with a shudder of relief and leapt quickly up the dungeon corridor, passing no one, knuckly fingers thankfully rid of the evidence. But his progress was suddenly impeded he couldn't see anything in front of him except the torch lit corridor, and yet it felt as though he was trying to run through a vat of tingling honey. His legs slowed, and he felt himself pulled backward toward the storeroom. Harry stomach sank with dread. Snape must have placed a new ward.
The ward plastered him spread-eagled to the storeroom door, and continued to tingle. He heard a distant klaxon sound in another area of the dungeon. The tingling of the ward crept over his balls and he felt his cock begin to rise, and his robes tent out in front of him. Thank God for the invisibility cloak; as far as he could tell, he was still completely covered. Snape might take all night to release him, but no student would see him hanging there, erection prominently displayed in the frame of the storeroom door, while he waited. In the meantime, how to get down? He was struggling like some species of lepidoptera pinned alive to a board when Snape appeared at the end of the dungeon corridor, striding purposefully toward him.
"I know it's you, Potter," said Snape, as he approached. "No one else in this castle has one of those infernal cloaks." He swept up to the door and stopped directly in front of Harry, bare inches from his jutting erection. "What have you taken now, you fool?" he reached his hand up and palmed Harry's cheek with uncanny accuracy, until Harry realized Snape must be able to hear his breathing quite clearly. The touch, combined with the tingle of the ward felt excruciatingly sensuous, and without thinking, Harry leaned his head into the caress. He watched Snape's eyes widen slightly, then the mouth opened, and
"Last time wasn't lesson enough, was it?" Snape smiled minutely, and his eyes lit up with some excitement anticipation, maybe? Harry blushed to the roots of his hair, and his breathing sped up a bit definitely anticipation on his own part, along with a dollop of fervent and vaguely sickening hope. Harry felt Snape's other hand roaming electrically over his body, and almost lost himself to surety on the matter, when he realized with a start that Snape was probably just looking for contraband. Harry was suddenly very thankful the wards had caught him on the way out, instead of in. But then again, Snape would want to make sure the culprit bore evidence of his criminal activities. With nothing to fear, Harry relaxed. He let the hand wander all over him regardless of Snape's intentions, causing his skin to spark and buzz and respond wherever it traveled. Everywhere Snape touched, the skin crackled into life and stayed that way, and Harry could feel the tracks of Snape's fruitless search burgeon upon his body, way joining with way over his chest and shoulders, and as far around the back as Snape could reach. He knelt between Harry's spread legs. Harry felt his cock jump as he realized Snape's lips were a bare inch away from it. Snape was oblivious to the fact as he continued his journey over Harry's hips and down outside of his legs to Harry's feet, and here Snape's mouth fell south a bit until Harry felt him running his hands up his inner thighs.
Harry sucked in a breath as Snape's hands halted just before his own mouth, hovering over Harry's aching hardness.
Then plunged right in, both mouth and hands, suddenly caressing everywhere, and it was better than Harry remembered at least, he was upright this time, and he was facing Snape, he could watch him as he drove his mouth blindly onto the tip of Harry's clothed prick, he could watch as Snape's left hand attacked the base of his cock with a firm pressure, claiming the member as his own and calling it to attention, dragged down though it was by the weight of Harry's robes and over-large jeans. Harry panted and moaned, thankful for the deserted corridor, and just about lost himself in the sensation when Snape abruptly stood and leaned against him, mouth pressed to Harry's ear.
"Where is it, Potter?" he whispered.
"I I don't know what you're talking about," Harry stammered back, just as quietly.
Snape gripped Harry's cock tightly in his hand and said "Don't lie to me, boy, you do. The wards wouldn't have caught you had you not been in the stores." He pulled back a bit and ran his free hand over Harry's enshrouded face. "Where is it?" he asked again, and then his eyes widened
"You put it back, didn't you?" And here, Harry saw a genuine gleam of hope in Snape's eyes that startled him.
Before Harry could respond, Snape's wand was in his hand and he was issuing a complicated spell that set the door swinging open with Harry still firmly fastened to it. Snape ran to where the oleander root was stored, and let out what Harry could only describe as a whoop of joy when he found it all there, just as it had been before Harry had taken it. He watched, dumbfounded, as for the second time in as many days Snape broke the mold and sank back against the far wall, allowing genuine relief to roll off him in palpable waves. This display, more than anything so far, convinced Harry he had done the right thing in returning the oleander root.
Harry hung there for the next few minutes completely nonplussed, staring fixedly at Snape and shaking.
He watched as Snape recovered himself enough to stare intently at the door where Harry was pinned. "It seems you did learn something after all, Mr. Potter," the sneering tones burned familiarly after the cold shock of unvarnished Snape. "Yet as relieved as I am, I am rather surprised. I hadn't thought your Gryffindor pride would allow you to admit a mistake." However buried, Harry heard the compliment, and something else, as well was it a note of disappointment? Though he didn't know why that would be there. Snape loathed him; he certainly didn't relish any time spent with Harry. Did he?
Harry thought. Why had Snape chosen just the punishment he did? Had he known it would work? And it had worked, in a way; Harry would never again steal anything without knowing as much about it as possible ahead of time. And he had returned the oleander root. No more punishments were necessary there. And at that, Harry felt an inexplicable emptiness.
A movement out of the corner of his eye alerted him to Snape's wand. It waved to Snape's muttered exsolvio, and Harry found himself sliding to the storeroom floor.
"Go, Mr. Potter." Yes, definitely disappointed.
Harry rose shakily to his knees, and took one last look at Snape sitting back against the storeroom wall, knees drawn up and loosely encircled by those deceptively strong arms, long, slender fingers entwined.
He turned to leave, suddenly hopeful. There were always other unlearnt lessons.
Return to Archive | previous