FIC: "Occam's Razor", Chapter Five


Chapter Five

It was morning. Harry carried his tea and sat down on the unmade bed in the sitting room, looking around for Draco, puzzled that he was up so early. Just as he put the cup to his lips, a sound from the painting made him look up in surprise. What he saw made him fumble his cup, almost missing the saucer.

Draco was perched on the edge of Snape's desk, clad only in his nightshirt, his legs spread wide for the man who was crouched in front of him. Draco saw Harry watching, and smiled seductively, then threw back his head with a moan as the head between his legs began to move, Snape's hands clenched on Draco's knees, holding on as he bobbed his head up and down.

Harry's breath became ragged. He set his tea aside, clutching for his cock as he watched, frantic to touch himself. Draco rolled his head forward, and when he saw what Harry was doing, he caught his eyes. "Care to join us, Potter?" he asked huskily, his hands moving to Snape's head, as if to hold him there.

"Gods, yes," Harry replied hoarsely, but when he moved, he found he was stuck fast to the bed. Flummoxed, he jerked his shoulders forward to free himself….

Harry's eyes flew open, then he looked around his bedchamber in confusion. By the light of the window, he could tell that he'd slept later than usual. His heart was still pounding in his ears, and he was almost painfully hard. He rested back on his pillows with a sigh, and did what was only natural. What was unnatural, he had to admit, was that this was the second time in the space of a single night.

oooOOOooo

"Good morning," Harry said as he closed his door behind him. The settee was back, with Draco sitting on one end with a cup of tea. Harry served himself from the pot, then just as he sat on the other end, Snape announced his presence.

"Question number five," he directed, causing Harry to roll his eyes, and Draco to look from one to the other.

"I'm not surprised," Harry said resignedly. "Actually, I expected this last night."

"Yes, well, I don't like to become too predictable," Snape informed him, in a self-satisfied tone that made Harry want to throw a pillow. "Why did you find it necessary to close your door last night?"

In the spirit of the game, Harry considered his options for dissembling. He glanced at Draco, who was studying him with curiosity. Well, there was a great deal Snape didn't know, although he might've guessed. Harry suspected that this question wasn't nearly as embarrassing as Snape hoped it would be.

Taking time to take a sip of tea first, Harry answered matter-of-factly, "I didn't want to disturb Draco."

Snape was impressed, Harry could tell; he wouldn't waste another question, Harry was sure, but while he was reveling in his mastery of the question, Draco tipped the scales slightly.

"Disturb me how?" he asked uncertainly.

Harry glowered at Snape, who looked like the cat who'd swallowed the cream on the sly.

"I believe that question was directed at you, Potter." Snape tried for neutrality, but failed miserably, the wicked gleam in his eye almost blinding, Harry noted. Well, two could play this game.

"Snape likes me to leave my door open so he can hear me when I wank," Harry told Draco solemnly. When Draco snorted tea up his nose, Harry added, "So last night, I wanted it shut…because…he expected me to shut it."

Draco looked confused, looking from Harry to Snape, then back again. "He did? Why?"

Harry leant across the settee, then in a stage-whisper that he was certain Snape would hear, he explained, "Because I spent the day with you…a wank-worthy occasion. And I wouldn't want you to hear and think it was because of you. So, I shut my door, and gave him the ammunition for his bloody question, of course."

The gray eyes grew wide, then settled to a simmer. Leaning across the settee so that the two of them almost met, he murmured, "Really?" Harry realized a split second before Draco did it, what he was about to do. Even so, he wouldn't have pulled away.

It was a brief kiss, with a bit of tongue for show, and even though Harry knew it was for Snape's benefit, and correction, he groaned when Draco pulled away.

Draco seemed to be biting back a smile. "So…I was wank-worthy?"

Harry laughed out loud as he straightened, remembering the bizarre dream of that morning. "Oh yeah, definitely wank-worthy." The sound of the slow clapping from the painting made both of them turn.

"Bravo, Potter. I believe Albus may've been correct. We do Sort too soon."

oooOOOooo

They went their separate ways for the remainder of the morning, Harry with work to do in the castle, Draco to the Restricted Section to begin reading Secrets of the Darkest Art.

After lunch, they returned to Harry's rooms where Snape was impatiently awaiting them with a message.

"Albus is in his portrait, Draco. I told him you'd be along shortly," Snape told him with a wave toward the door.

After escorting Draco to the headmaster's office, and a quick hello to the old man, Harry returned to find Snape perusing a large volume that nearly hid his face from view.

As Harry sat, a voice said from behind the book, "Having a good time, are we?"

Harry smiled and answered, "Yeah, I am. Nice to have someone besides you to talk to for a change."

The book lowered slightly, so that just the black eyes peered over the top. "And I suppose some credit is due me for being the catalyst that brought the two of you together."

Yes, this was true, but Harry was suddenly curious about something he'd meant to ask Snape several times before. "Professor, are those real books?"

The book was lowered even more, so that the scowl was completely visible. "Of course they're real. Did you think I'd sit here and spend hours with my considerable nose in them if they weren't?"

"Just wondered," Harry said, amused, then sat back when Snape set the book aside.

Snape looked to his bookshelves, then heaved a sigh of weariness. "However, there are other books that I'd dearly love to have here. Short-sightedness on my part. Although, how is one to know what will be needed or desired when death seems such a remote possibility?" he asked rhetorically.

This brought to mind another question that had occurred to Harry more than once. "Sir, this painting…it's rather unusual. The setting, I mean. Who painted it?"

"Ah, yes. This painting was done for the Hall of Portraits," he replied.

"Hall of Portraits?" Harry asked, lifting his eyebrows. "Here? In Hogwarts?"

Snape let out a noise of disgust. "It was one of Albus' harebrained schemes, to start a tradition of each professor having a portrait done. So far as I know, there were only a handful of us who actually did so, and the Hall itself never evolved beyond a dusty storage cupboard where the portraits and paintings are still sitting, probably abandoned for all eternity," he huffed.

"So yours…." Harry tried to prod him further.

"I was determined that if I had to participate in such foolishness, it would be on my own terms. So I secured the services of one of my NEWT-level students who was quite an accomplished artist—although she was mediocre at Potions—then was able to direct her to produce an acceptable facsimile of myself, in a natural habitat, if you will." He frowned as he looked around him. "However, if I'd known what I know now, I believe I would've had her portray me in my laboratory."

"You'd rather be making potions?" Harry asked.

Snape shrugged. "I should've incorporated both, it seems. As it is, I'm rather bored."

Harry leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his cheeks in his hands. "I wish there was something more I could do for you. I guess talking to you isn't a big help."

Snape seemed about to object, then checked himself. He considered Harry thoughtfully for a moment, then said cautiously, "There is one thing you might do."

Harry sat up straight. "Anything, sir."

"Tsk, tsk, Id've thought you'd learnt that lesson by now, Potter. Not to agree so readily, until you know to what you're committing yourself. However," he held up a hand to ward off Harry's rebuttal, "if you're so inclined, there are some books that I would like to read, currently housed in the Restricted Section. And as you seem to be spending so much of your time there of late, perhaps you could locate them for me." He looked suddenly uncertain as he supplied the last of his request. "Of course, you would have to read the selected passages aloud to me."

The urge to prolong the man's uncertainty, more than earned by his treatment of Harry in the past two days, faded when Harry realized how difficult this must've been for him to ask, evidenced by the clear apprehension in Snape's dark eyes.

"It'd be my pleasure, sir. If you'll give me the name of a book, we can start this afternoon." Harry was rewarded for his forthrightness by the sight of Snape unable to suppress a smile of satisfaction.

"Arudis Mehcohn's Treatise on the Ways and Means of Alchemic Logarithms."

"Great," Harry muttered, "I can hardly wait." But true to his word, he proceeded at once to the library, found the sizeable tome without difficulty, and in no time, was ensconced in his armchair, a strong cup of tea at hand to stave off the inevitable drowsiness, and reading aloud from Chapter Thirty-two, as Snape sat at his desk and took notes in a parchment ledger.

Harry'd yawned several times in the past half-hour, which had earned him a stern look, but now he seemed to have reached the limits of what Snape deemed allowable conduct in a proxy reading. "Potter, you're reading three times more slowly than you talk. Would it be too much to ask for you to pick up the pace a bit?" he asked archly, his quill poised above the parchment.

Harry finished his tea with a gulp, then sat up in his chair, shaking his head from side to side so hard his cheeks jiggled, all the while making a gurgling noise in the back of his throat. After rubbing both his eyes with his hands, he took up the book again. Ready to read, he looked up and saw Snape staring at him.

"What?" Harry asked.

"That was a truly frightening demonstration, one worthy of Peeves."

"Thanks, Professor. Whatever it takes to get me awake, cause this is such fascinating reading," he griped.

There were at it another fifteen minutes, when Draco knocked once, then entered. "Thank god," Harry mouthed at him as he set the book aside. Aloud he asked, "You're all set, then?"

Draco Summoned the teapot and answered as he began to pour. "Yeah, all sorted out." He shot a glance at the painting. "Thanks, Severus."

Snape pushed the parchment aside, then nodded his head at Draco. "Best to tidy up the past as best can be done; henceforth, especially in your mind, it will remain there—in the past."

Shooting Harry a meaningful look, a flick of his eyes in the direction of the painting, Draco began casually, "You know, Harry, you were right. Same old Dumbledore— knew everything I expected, all the facts, gave me advice and asked me questions…but still," he looked to Snape suddenly, "it wasn't like talking to you, Severus. He was unusually distractible, as if his mind were elsewhere, and his personality…was faded, like you'd expect in a portrait." He paused, watching as Snape looked away to straighten the stack of books on his desk. "You, though. I don't have that sense at all—that you're not all there. You're completely how I remember you. So…why is that, Severus? Harry's noticed it too, and I didn't appreciate it fully until just now. Severus?" he demanded, when it appeared that Snape had become preoccupied.

Snape glanced up at the two of them, then sneered, "I've no explanation, except that you've become infected by Potter's overactive imagination."

Harry and Draco exchanged a look, one that communicated that neither of them was satisfied by this brush-off.

oooOOOooo

In the Restricted Section early that evening, Harry and Draco divided up the challenges of the journal.

"So," Harry summarized, "I'll see if Bill knows anything about a vault in Gringotts. And I'll get in touch with Hermione and see if she can find out anything about the neighborhood where the Evanses lived, since Snape grew up there too. See if there's a St. James there."

"And I'll check with Mother about where Snape lived after Hogwarts. Where he might've spent hols or summers. I think he mostly stayed here, though, but it's worth checking out." He chewed on the end of his quill. "And next week when we see Father, I'll ask him about Birnum. I don't know why, but I'm certain that's a person. Wish I could remember that."

They'd also discovered that the numbers from the bottoms of the potions phials in the trunk corresponded, as they'd suspected, to several entries made about Pettigrew and St. James. The references to Birnum, as well as the ones to 'Bat' and the cauldron still remained a mystery.

Draco intended to earnestly apply himself to the textbook, along with the puzzle of the two potions, ones that they'd concluded Snape had no doubt concocted at some point, as the pages on which they were notated seemed more worn and handled than the rest of the journal.

The only thing left to address was the listing of dates and places that chronicled Harry's wanderings during that last year. Harry'd known it would come down to this, and after they'd replaced the books on the shelf, he turned his chair to face his companion, resigned that he would have to give an explanation, at the same time editing out parts that weren't applicable or simply too personal to share.

"This is complicated, and long," Harry warned him. "Some of it won't make sense until I get to the end, so bear with me, all right?" When Draco nodded, Harry took a deep breath and began.

He started with the night his parents were killed, how his mother's death set the blood-protection magic in motion; he moved to his years at Hogwarts, and each encounter with Voldemort.

He explained how Snape had heard part of the prophecy, and how he himself had learnt of it at the end of fifth-year. By this time, Draco's face had become even paler than his usual pallor.

"God, Potter," he muttered as he shook his head, his eyes wide with consternation.

"But Snape, you see, never returned to Voldemort. He'd made a promise, to both Dumbledore and himself." He elaborated on Snape's pledge to keep Harry safe, how it was rooted in a desire to honor Lily's memory; he intentionally diluted the strength of that devotion, not wanting to reveal most of what he'd seen in Snape's memories.

When he moved to the events of their sixth year, Draco's face became grim. Harry told him of the Horcruxes, of Dumbledore's fatal experience with Gaunt's ring, and of their journeys in the Pensieve, tailored to provide Harry with clues that he'd eventually need.

He made short work of that night on the Tower, where Snape and Draco had been unaware that he'd been hidden underneath the Cloak, but he used this opportunity to explain the importance of the Elder Wand, more specifically how Draco's disarming of Dumbledore had figured in to the defeat of the dark wizard. The other Deathly Hallows he edited out altogether.

By now, Draco was listening to him raptly, wide-eyed. Harry resisted the urge to reach out and remind him that this was history, that he was sitting there, in the flesh, alive to tell the story.

He told of their travels during seventh-year, each episode and location bringing them closer to the denouement. He sketched out the destruction of each Horcrux, especially the breaking of the locket and how Snape had provided the sword of Gryffindor. He didn't tell him about Dobby's death, nor of the talk with Ollivander, and as the escapade at Gringotts had soon afterward become almost a cult legend, he only mentioned it in passing. The events of the Final Battle were ones that they'd already discussed on their tour of the castle, so Harry moved straight to the fact of Snape's death in the Shrieking Shack, of the memories that had given him the final piece in the puzzle of how to defeat Voldemort. The rest of it, the killing of Nagini, and the last duel, were a matter of public record.

"So…you…." Draco struggled to get the words out. "You did it, knowing you wouldn't resist…knowing you were going to die." He shook his head, then wet his lips. "I can't even begin…." He faltered, took a long look at Harry, his eyes shimmering, then began again. "What you did…. I could've never even begun to…." he choked out, then turned his face to the wall.

Harry sat in silence, watching as Draco dealt with his emotion, feeling strangely empty himself. This was the second time in a matter of weeks that he'd relived what he'd tried to push to the back of his mind, and he wondered over the fact that this time it had been easier. But Draco, unlike Snape, had been a true enemy, and he suspected the impact of the story was much more devastating because of it.

When Draco turned back, his eyes were wet with unshed tears. "Potter, how can I ever even dare to touch you…."

Harry moved then, grasping Draco's face between his hands. "Oh, no you don't," he growled, sliding his fingers through Draco's hair to cradle his head. Commanding attention, Harry leveled a stern look at the shaken man. "Half of what I told you was because I knew you'd never let it go, what with Snape wrote in his journal." He withdrew one of his hands and brushed at the wetness of Draco's eyelashes. "As for the rest of it, I had help along the way. Not like I was ever on my own, for the most part." He removed the other hand from the back of Draco's head, then placed both hands on the man's shoulders. "As for touching me," he smiled, "I remind you that I declared you wank-worthy, in front of Snape, so I'll be truly crushed if you—"

His speech was abruptly cut off, as Draco chose to take Harry at his word, and kissed the breath out of him.

oooOOOooo

Walking from the library to Harry's rooms, Draco was thoughtful, almost distracted.

"I've got to get to that textbook," he said. "Horcruxes, fine. Snape admitted he was digging on his own…but why would he put all that in his journal?" he wondered aloud. "Unless he was thinking he could somehow help you? Find them, I mean?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. He knew that was my task, and from talking to him I've never got the impression that he actually looked at all."

"I don't suppose it would help to come out and ask him," Draco muttered as they reached the door.

"You could try." Harry grinned as he paused with his hand on the latch. "I'll be there to put you back together."

oooOOOooo

That evening, they told Snape an abbreviated version of what they'd done with their afternoon, that Draco now knew about the Horcruxes and the part that Snape had played during that final year.

Snape looked surprised, but his only comment was, "Draco was already aware of my duplicity, as we discussed it yesterday afternoon."

Harry smiled. "But I definitely put a different slant on it, I'd wager. Probably gave you more credit that you deserved."

"It's a Slytherin quality, modesty," Snape huffed.

Harry guffawed, while Draco only shook his head. "Right, over the years I've noticed that, actually. Slytherins being tight-lipped about their accomplishments," Harry said, tongue-in-cheek.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully; they discussed the events in the Prophet¸ Snape and Draco had a lively discussion about the merits of a potion technique of which Harry'd never heard, then, winding down, they had a single snifter of Ogden's, while Draco was appointed the unenviable task of reading aloud from Mehcohn's Treatise.

He was still at it, when Harry wished them both a good night. He smiled as he closed his door, hearing Draco mutter in his direction, "You owe me, Harry."

As he lay in bed, he thought of how far the two of them had come in the space of a weekend. It was true, neither of them had expected what they'd found in the other, but for Harry, the proof of that fact had been the sound of Draco saying at last, "Harry."

oooOOOooo

Harry awakened in the night, and for a moment he drowsily wondered why, until he heard the noise of something moving on the floor at the foot of his bed. As he sat up, he reached for his wand and muttered, "Lumos."

"Draco?" he asked, confused, seeing the man wrapped in a coverlet on the floor, just about to punch his pillow. "What…what's wrong?" he asked, sliding to the end of the bed.

Draco came up on an elbow. "Snape snores, is what. He did it last night, and tonight's even worse. I think he's doing it intentionally because I wouldn't read anymore." He sighed. "Sorry I woke you." He fell back to the floor, and pulled the coverlet up to his chin. "G'back to sleep."

Amused, Harry watched him for a moment, a mound of green bedding with a disheveled blond mop peeking out of one end.

"Nox," he whispered, then crawled back up and settled on his side. He listened for a while, lulled by the sound of Draco snuffling in his sleep.

When he awakened the second time, it was to the sound of Draco muttering. Harry lay cocooned in his blanket, then had to smile at what he heard.

"No…no! Get…get out!" There was the sound of Draco rearranging himself, then a brief silence that didn't last, broken by a longsuffering sigh. "Oh god, you're a nuisance. Go…geroff!" Now there was a thunk, followed by more rearranging, but almost immediately, another round of negotiations. "Oh puh-lease, why don't you try…up there?" Harry felt the faint plop at the bottom of his mattress, but Draco's strategy had obviously failed, as he positively moaned, "I swear, if I have to Stun you I will…."

With those words, Harry was motivated to move quickly. He spoke the Lumos and was on the end of the bed in an instant, peering down at a wide-awake and annoyed Draco. "Don't you dare Stun her," he cautioned, watching with amusement as Mrs. Norris scratched at the coverlet, which Draco had pulled up to his ears.

"Well then, do something with her. I tried to put her out, but she scratches at the door. She keeps trying to lick my hands, and if she can't get at those, my face," he complained, then threw the coverlet aside and sat up, glaring at the cat, now innocently curled up at his feet. "Why won't she sleep with you?" Draco opined.

"Because she knows you don't want her with you," Harry explained. "It's the way cats are."

Draco rolled his eyes, then fell back to the floor, bringing an arm up to shield his eyes from the light. "Can't we put her out in the castle?"

"Just a different door to scratch. Then we'll have Snape to deal with, in addition to her." Harry watched as Mrs. Norris was covertly working her way up the coverlet to begin her next assault. He patted the bed beside him, and made kissing sounds, but to no avail. The cat was determined to conquer the unassailable.

Harry prodded Draco with a foot, causing him to remove his arm and look up at him.

"Listen, sleep in the bed with me—it's big enough. That way, she'll just settle down at the foot of it."

Draco hesitated for just a moment, then stood and climbed up from the bottom. Harry extinguished his wand, then lay back, waiting while Draco nudged aside the coverlet. Rolling to his side, Harry could just make out the silhouette of the man facing him. There was a loud yawn and the bed shifted as Draco found a comfortable position.

Minutes passed, without either of them moving, Harry's heart pounding in his chest. When he'd had enough, he murmured, "Draco, you're killing me here."

There was a soft laugh as both of them moved and met each other in the middle. After a brief interlude of hands in hair, light strategically placed kisses, and pressing together, they both had their nightshirts and boxers off, evoking a mutual groan at that first contact of bare skin against bare skin.

They rolled in the bed, frotting against each other, first Harry on top, then Draco. It was clear that Draco intended to have the upper hand, as he pushed Harry back into the bed, then pinned his hands to the side as he mouthed his way down Harry's body.

"Oh…ohhhhhh," Harry moaned as he spread his legs for Draco to kneel between them. There was a flash in Harry's memory, of a similar scene he'd dreamed just that morning, but he was pulled sharply to the present, as he felt his cock engulfed by the warmth and wet of Draco's mouth. He fought to free his hands, needing…needing…needing…. "Oh god yes!" he panted out, as he buried his hands in Draco's hair, working his fingers through it as Draco mouthed over his cock.

Draco sucked the length of him, pulling back and plunging again, using his hands to roll Harry's balls at the same time, a maddening combination that made Harry arch off the bed to follow as he pulled away, then fall back as Draco pushed forward with his mouth. Harry's head thrashed from side to side, his mouth wide open in a soundless scream as he felt the spike of orgasm overtake him. Holding onto Draco's hair at the roots, Harry held his head in place as he pulsed, completely and blissfully, out of control.

Harry's body slumped, relaxed, into the bed. Draco kissed his way back up Harry's stomach to his chest, ending with a leisurely full-mouthed kiss that left Harry gasping and groping for more, when Draco finally pulled away. Sliding to the side of him, Draco slipped his arm beneath Harry's shoulders and pulled him in tight. As they lay there, recovering, Draco said softly, "You do like sex."

Harry laughed as he turned his face toward Draco. "I do."

Draco traced the line of Harry's shoulder, across his chest, then rested his hand gently on his hip. "Well, since we'll be working together, I suppose there are a few things I could teach you…so far as sex goes," he mouthed at Harry's ear, then flicked the lobe of it with his tongue, just before he bit down, none too gently.

Sensation anew streaked through Harry's groin, as he almost came off the bed. "That sounds…." He didn't finish, when without warning Draco twisted his nipple, then covered Harry's mouth to swallow his gasp, a mixture of both pleasure and pain. "God, Draco…." he muttered when he was finally able to speak.

"Hmmm," Draco sighed as he shifted to his back. "I think Harry likes a bit of teeth, a hint of pain…something…different for us to play with…" He reached out with a hand to find Harry's. Pulling gently, his head turned toward Harry as he said breathily, "Touch me."

Harry needed no further invitation. He rolled to his side, slipped an arm beneath Draco's neck, turning his head to kiss him, at the same time trailing his hand across the man's chest, lingering on one nipple, then the other, returning the favor by pinching harder than he thought he should, but Draco moaned into his mouth, obviously appreciative, so Harry put more force behind it the next time. Draco gasped and jutted his hips forward, his cock brushing against Harry's thigh.

Harry didn't hurry, moving his hand gradually lower, ever teasing, occasionally pinching up flesh to roll between his fingers. By the time he took Draco's cock in hand, Draco was short of breath, moving restlessly, his hands in Harry's hair, touching his face, his fingers probing Harry's mouth, prompting Harry to suck them greedily and noisily.

Harry was flush against Draco now, up on his side, with Draco still flat on his back. Harry rubbed a thumb over the softness of the foreskin, fingered the slit, then firmly gripped him as he slowly pulled down for his first stroke. Draco arched his back, but didn't make a sound; as a result, Harry was determined to make him.

He pulled his hand up slowly, then forcefully down again. He studied Draco's profile, then smiled in anticipation when he saw the lips fall open as Draco threw his head back. Harry concentrated on being unpredictable, three hard fast strokes, followed by four gentle, longer ones. He altered the rhythm at whim, watching as Draco's body started to tremble, as he tried to force Harry to go faster, writhing in frustration, until he finally burst out in a gasp, "Damn it! Please…please…." He shut his mouth suddenly as Harry began to stroke in earnest, his grasp strong, his grip tight, his pace faster.

Draco was soon pumping his hips off the bed, so that he was doing half the work. Harry could tell by the dig of Draco's fingernails in his neck that he was close, so he leant down and, holding Draco's head fast by the hair, he covered his mouth with his own, just as Draco arched suddenly upward off the bed and seemed to stay there, his cry echoing in the hollow of Harry's mouth and throat, while Harry continued to stroke him until there was nothing left but the sensation of warmth dripping over his fingers.

Harry hung over Draco for a moment while they both recovered. After the requisite cleansing charm, Harry pulled up the coverlet, then turned on his side, reaching out for Draco, who came willingly, draping his arm around Harry's shoulder and pulling him close. Harry nuzzled in the hair at Draco's neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and jasmine. "You like sex too. I could tell," Harry told him.

Draco laughed softly. "I do."

They lay, their limbs entangled and entwined, just about asleep, when Draco mumbled almost incoherently, "Where's the damn cat?"

Harry smiled, but didn't answer.

oooOOOooo

The next morning, the two of them trod warily into the sitting room, certain that Draco's appearance in his nightshirt, with Harry fully-clothed beside him, would provoke question number six, or at least a snide comment from the master of the painting. They were pleasantly surprised when all that Snape gave them was a nod, and a civil, "Good morning."

Tea proved just as uneventful, even with Draco and Harry sitting almost side-by-side on the settee. Harry told Snape of his plans for the day; Snape declined to take the bait and didn't ask after Draco's.

They were on their way to the door, when Harry couldn't stand it any longer. Turning to the painting, he told Snape, "I’m impressed, Professor. Not a question, not even a comment."

Snape looked up from his desk, and Harry realized from the look on his face that the détente was about to end. "No matter. Mrs. Norris will supply me with all the sordid details."

Out in the corridor, Harry gave Draco a worried look. "Can he do that?" he asked.

Draco slapped him on the back and laughed out loud.

"Well, it's Snape," Harry muttered with a smile. "If anyone could charm a story out of a cat, he could."

oooOOOooo

Harry hummed his way through his work that morning, flicking his wand to levitate new cauldrons out of their cartons, setting mops to scrub floors, sliding desks and chairs into place. He smiled when he tried but couldn't whistle, his lips pleasantly plumped from the night before.

He felt more optimistic than he had in a long while, but he was almost brutally realistic as well; like Nate, Draco's sojourn here was a temporary one. He refused to consider anything beyond that time, when it would come. But who knew? Perhaps they'd keep in touch, see each other from time to time, whether here or at the Highfield.

All he was certain of for now was that he was enjoying Draco's company: it was a welcome distraction from the sometimes tedious routine of the castle, not to mention Draco's involvement in their now mutual quest to solve the puzzle that was Snape.

Snape. Harry realized, as he worked and thought, that he missed his private conversations with the man. He wondered if Snape felt the same way too. Although he and Draco'd spent time with him every evening, it fell far short of the hours that Harry had previously wiled away, sitting across from the painting. It's just a portrait, he reminded himself, as he set out for lunch.

oooOOOooo

By late afternoon, Harry was sitting in the headmaster's chair in the office, opening mail that had collected since Minerva's departure. Most of it, this time of year, was from students: thank-yous from newly-departed seventh-years, petitions from returning students concerning their OWL scores and why they should be overlooked for one reason or another. Complaints from parents were placed in a pile all their own. Harry dealt with those that he was able, making neat stacks of the others that required the headmistress' managerial expertise.

"It looks good on you." A voice from the door startled Harry. He looked up, confused at the words, then made a face when Draco dropped into the chair across the desk.

"No, definitely not something I'd ever want to do," he told him as he sealed an envelope.

Draco propped his feet up on the desk. "No?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "I've watched what Minerva has to put up with—be a mother and a father, deal with the Board, fight with the Ministry, coddle parents, discipline students. No, not for me."

Eyeing him speculatively, Draco said, "Well, see, that's progress. Here's one thing you know for certain you don't want to do. That include teaching as well?"

"I'm not sure. I've considered it, but…" He paused as he thought, then gave Draco a wry smile. "This'll sound strange, since I'm still here, but I want Hogwarts to be a place I can come back to visit. No real ambition to end up here for the rest of my life." He looked around them. "It's a big place, but after a while, the walls can close in on you. I've had a few days like that," he confessed, looking down at the desk.

"You need to get out more," Draco said softly, but when Harry looked up to retort, Draco was already on his feet. "So…it's a beautiful day out there," he said as he made a sweeping gesture with a hand toward the door. "Care to join me in pursuit of a Snitch?" His voice was gently mocking and challenging as he threw down the gauntlet.

Harry capped the inkpot, slid on his shoes, and was around the desk, heading for the door. "Well, what're you waiting for?" he told a slightly amazed Draco. "Let's go!"

They started out at a rapid walk, but after casting a sideways glance at each other, they raced through the corridors like first-years, jostling each other for the front position, careening into walls, racing down stairs three at a time, even leaping from the moving staircase when they were still feet from their destination. Through the Entrance Hall and the great doors, around the side of the castle, down the hillside, by now trying to grab each other by the shirt to get ahead. Too out of breath for words, they stumbled to a stop at the archway to the pitch.

Bent over, hands on their knees, they grinned at each other as they caught their breath.

"Not bad for a piano player," Harry laughed, then motioned them toward the storage room for their brooms.

It was a glorious afternoon, even better than the one Harry'd spent with Ginny and Ron. The two of them tossed the Quaffle back and forth, for a while united against an imaginary adversary, then became serious competitors once they'd thrown out the Snitch. They streaked far above the pitch in their quest for the evasive prize, flying side-by-side at breakneck speed, then hovered near each other, exchanging the usual taunts and jibes as they waited to catch a glimpse of gold glinting in the sun.

They'd been at it almost an hour, and although both of them had come close, the Snitch was still out there somewhere. They'd lost sight of it, and the two of them flew in lazy circles and did loop-de-loops as they waited. The July sun beat down on them as they idled, and by this time both of them were drenched in sweat, pink-cheeked, but exhilarated and satisfied. Harry couldn't remember a time in the past two years that he'd enjoyed something as much as he had the past hour. Well, if he were honest, the entire weekend.

After fifteen minutes and no Snitch in sight, Draco cruised alongside of Harry. "Ready to call it a tie?"

Harry searched the skies first, squinting up at the sun. "Yeah, guess we scared it off."

They were walking through the archway, when Harry inclined his head to the side. "Shower here?"

Draco glanced down at his chest, then ran a hand through his hair. "Sure, why not?" He followed Harry through the locker room, letting out a low whistle when he saw the interior.

"Just wait till you see the showers," Harry told him as they stripped, watching Draco out of the corner of his eye, not at all surprised to find the man doing the same. Draco finished first, so he walked to the door to the showers, then stopped.

"Very nice," Draco said, then turned when Harry leant in the doorway beside him.

"Yeah, isn't it?" The floor and ceiling were done in black and white tiles, while the walls were done in the colors and crests of each of the Houses.

"No expense spared," Draco commented.

Harry didn’t speak for a moment, thinking back to when this project had been planned and executed. "There were a lot of people who wanted to do something. So many of them felt guilty…once the dust settled. People who didn't stand up when they should've, people who were afraid…whatever. But this," he stepped into the room, "this was a way of saying thank you; some gave money, some gave materials, quite a few gave their time to do the actual work." He looked back to Draco. "Rebuilt Hogwarts. Healed people at the same time."

Harry turned on the tap of the nearest shower, watching as Draco stepped into the room. Strategically angling the shower head, he caught the man with a blast of cold water.

Draco howled and jumped to the side, skidding on the floor, then retaliated so quickly that Harry had no chance to defend himself. Grabbing Harry around the waist, he pushed him directly under the nozzle, bending himself backward to avoid the frigid water the best he could.

Sputtering, gasping, Harry reached forward and turned the other tap. As the water warmed, he gave up his struggle, and instead leant back into the arms still around him. He felt them relax, then a warm weight pushed at him from behind as Draco's arms crisscrossed his chest. They stood that way for a moment, letting the hot water sluice over them, then Draco reached in front to snag the bar of soap.

Pulling them both back out of the spray, Draco took his time to liberally lather them, taking care to coat every inch until they were slippery and sudsy. When he was finished, he circled Harry again from behind, then stepped them both back under the shower. Gripping Harry by the wrists, he leant them forward to place Harry's hands on the rail. Letting go, Draco slid back and frotted against Harry, who could feel the length of Draco's cock pressed up against him as they moved. He wanted desperately to touch himself, but Draco must've known what he was thinking.

Close to Harry's ear, Draco murmured. "Don't you dare let go." Suddenly, Harry's feet were kicked apart to widen his stance on the slippery floor. He lowered his head, reveling in the feel of the steam and the warmth and the fingers slipping in between the cheeks of his arse.

Draco told him, just as he slid in a finger, "This is the best…spur of the moment sex."

Harry moaned in agreement as he felt the second finger intrude. He felt full and uncomfortable, but it only lasted a moment, as Draco took his time, working his fingers in and out, at the same time attacking the flesh of Harry's shoulder with his teeth. Harry had to struggle to hold on to the rail, challenged by the treacherous floor and the need to take hold of his cock. He twisted his head to the side and begged, "Draco…."

He felt the tip of Draco's cock, then a streak of pain as he was penetrated in a single, swift push. He opened his mouth to cry out, but only managed a gurgling sound, half because of the water, half because Draco pulled him back so forcefully that it took his breath away. He didn't let go, though, but felt completely helpless, fixed to the rail, barely able to keep his feet, held secure around the waist as Draco began to move.

The sensations were delicious, Harry had to admit: the steady stream of the water, the mist that filled his lungs, the soapy sliding of the body behind him, the incredible feeling of fullness…emptiness…fullness…over and over. Draco was pulling and pounding him so hard that Harry felt his feet leave the floor at the same time as a firm hand took hold of him, and he almost cried in relief with that very first stroke downward.

Harry was gasping, his hands about to slip from the rail, his knees threatening to buckle, when Draco thrust deep and hard to the root, then stopped and stayed there, only his hand kept working Harry's cock, pulling up, milking downward, until Harry threw his head back and came, crying out for all the world to hear.

Draco gave him a moment to recover, his face buried in the hair at Harry's nape, then he pulled out and slammed into him so hard that Harry's knees finally did give way. But by then it didn't matter. His hands still on the rail, Draco held him up at the waist, dragging him back as if he were a rag doll, Harry slumping forward each time the man withdrew. After an increasingly frantic pounding, Draco pulled so hard that Harry had to let go, then felt the warmth on his insides as Draco grunted and growled, jerking Harry backward as he climaxed.

Reaching behind with his hands, Harry found Draco's, and held them tightly. They stood this way until Draco caught his breath, then without a word, they stepped back into the shower, taking their turns to clean each other. When the taps were finally shut, Draco pressed Harry against the wall and kissed him, framing his face with his hands, a long, tender kiss that was as light and gentle and sweet, as their fucking had been hard and rough and raw.

oooOOOooo

They must've looked ridiculous, Harry thought to himself. Garbed only in Quidditch tunics, which fell to just above their knees, and trainers without socks, they made their way up to the castle. Stepping into the Entrance Hall, their eyes adjusting to the lower light, they both stopped short.

"An impromptu Quidditch match, I see?" Minerva asked, hands on her hips. Glancing from one to the other, her eyes rested on Harry. "Who won?"

oooOOOooo

At supper that evening, Harry breathed a mental sigh of relief. He was slightly amazed as he listened to Draco and the headmistress. Draco supplied her with all the details about his parents, of his employment at the Highfield, and even told her of his talk with Dumbledore's portrait.

Harry spent most of the evening with Minerva, bringing her up to speed on the preparations for the term to come, going through mail, taking notes of what remained to be done. She hadn't demanded any reason for Draco's presence, for which he was grateful; in fact, she seemed to be pleased—Harry was certain that Draco's behavior had accomplished this no small victory.

She would be gone in the morning before breakfast, so they said their goodbyes in the headmaster's office.

"I'm glad he's here," she told Harry without preamble. "Someone your own age, although I must admit I was shocked at first."

"I guess people can change," Harry offered. "He seems to have."

She studied him for a moment, then said dryly, "Not my experience, but in this case I'm more than happy to be disappointed." As she turned back to the desk, she hesitated. "Anything else I should know?"

Should she? Should she know? Harry decided that, yes, she probably should know about several things he'd neglected to mention, namely that he'd spent the last several weeks talking to the dead and former headmaster, not to mention the real reason that Draco was at Hogwarts. "No, not for now," he told her.

oooOOOooo

Harry and Draco sat across from each other at a table in the library. Draco had collected a stack of potions books to take with him in the morning. Pointing to the text and journal in front of Harry, he asked, "Mind if I take those?"

Harry pushed Secrets of the Darkest Art across the table. "That one's…okay. It belongs to you anyway. Snape got it from your library."

Draco didn't seem surprised at all. "Really?" he asked as he leafed through the first several pages, then shut it and placed it atop the pile. He looked at Harry expectantly, eyeing the journal.

Placing a hand on the journal, Harry bit his lower lip as he deliberated. "Look, it's not that I don't trust you with it. It's…just that I don't feel right, letting it out of the castle." How could he explain it so that Draco would understand? He'd shared all of its contents, but physically handing it over felt like giving a piece of Snape away…a very personal piece with which he was loath to part.

Harry was relieved when Draco seemed to take his idiosyncrasy in stride. Looking up from the journal, he studied Harry's face, then pointed to the pile of parchments at Harry's elbow. "So, lend me your notes, then."

Harry bundled them up in a roll, then shoved them across as he asked, "Can I ask you something?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, then said, "Uh-oh, asking permission is usually a bad sign, but go ahead."

"I was wondering what Snape was like that last year—your seventh year?" He rolled a quill between his fingers. "What I know is from sixth-year and before. His memories, of course, and how he is now. But still…I supposed you must've known him fairly well since…."

Draco pushed back his chair, then said as he stood, "Because we were Slytherins." He rounded the table to perch on the edge of it where Harry was sitting. "Or because we served the Dark Lord?" He reached down and traced a finger over the back of Harry's hand.

Rolling his hand so Draco was tracing his palm, Harry watched as the delicate brush of a finger started a chain reaction of sensation that traveled up his arm, across his chest, then spider-webbed its way down across his belly. Looking up, Harry said, "Both, I suppose. You were his favorite student, after all."

Draco snorted as he pulled his hand away. "Problem student, more likely. You know, if it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have returned for seventh year at all. I think he insisted to keep me out of harm's way…as much as he could."

Harry remembered his flashes of memory, where Voldemort had seemed to be using Draco. "Didn't manage it entirely, did he?" he asked softly.

Without looking at him, Draco shook his head. "No…I often went home on weekends, at the Dark Lord's request. There were things…." He trailed off, then looked up at Harry, distressed.

"No need. I can imagine," Harry told him.

Draco didn't speak for a moment, a far away look in his eyes. "Before the Ministry was taken, Severus stayed at the Manor. That month, after Dumbledore…died, I tried to talk to him. Every time I did, he'd stand there…look right through me. Then he'd nod his head, and walk away. He was furious—I knew that, and there didn't seem to be anything I could say to make him listen." He pushed himself up so that he was sitting on the table, his long legs almost touching the floor, as he slowly swung them back and forth.

"The night after the Ministry fell, there was a celebration at the Manor. Everyone was there, and I remember that Severus came in late. He was watching me, working his way through the crowd. I thought at the time that he'd finally settled down…such a victory might've mellowed him, so far as I was concerned." He let out a bitter laugh. "What a fool I was. When we were finally face to face, he looked around the room, then grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to my father's study."

"Sounds like Snape," Harry murmured.

Draco nodded. "He sat me down in a chair, and laid it all out for me. That my father was out, and so was I. The Dark Lord would use us when he wanted, but we were completely expendable. Some things, he told me, were never forgivable, and Father and I were both guilty of such crimes. I tried to argue with him, that I could show the Dark Lord, prove to him I could be useful, and you know what he did?" When Harry shook his head, Draco added, "He laughed at me. Do you know how often he laughs? And when? It's not usually because something's humorous."

"Yeah, I've only heard him laugh once or twice," Harry commiserated, suppressing a shudder.

"He shook me by the shoulders, told me I was going back to school where he could keep an eye on me. And that if we were lucky, the three of us might come out of it alive. He said that Father was beyond talking to, and Mother was almost sick with fear; it was up to me to act responsibly, for everyone's sake."

"So, you decided to do what he asked?" Harry prompted him.

"Not at first, but a month of being at the beck and call of the Dark Lord convinced me he might've had a point. You understand, though, I had no idea he wasn't loyal; I just took it for granted he'd try and keep us…safe.

"I went home at the weekends, something that Severus arranged for me specially. What I saw there…what I had to do sometimes…made me frantic, and sick, and ready to pack up my things for good and go home. My parents needed me."

"So, why didn't you?" Harry asked, slightly alarmed to see the tremor in Draco's hands.

"Severus seemed to know what I was thinking." He smiled at Harry. "Several nights a week, he'd send for me to spend time with him."

Harry had a sudden suspicion that he wasn't about to voice. He wondered over what he knew about Snape's 'sexual encounter' and the fact that Draco was queer. Draco seemed to guess what he was thinking, though. His face darkened as he said, "No, not that, although I wonder how you know about Severus?"

"He told me," Harry said simply.

Draco seemed surprised. "Did he, now?" He considered Harry with a bemused smile. "There's a story there, I’m sure."

"Later," Harry directed him, "go on."

"We just talked…about everything except the war. My classes, Potions, how I was sleeping." He shook his head. "Even talked about what I wanted to do with my life. Funny, that, when we both knew what was coming. But the best part," Draco mused, "was that he seemed to know when I needed to talk. Never anything to do with what was going on at the Manor, or what could happen in the future. A week at a time, he helped me stay in control of myself." Draco dropped his eyes to his hands. "Kept me calm, and gave me hope." He looked up at Harry and tilted his head.

"There were times when I thought he was a fool, but now I know—he had reason to hope, where my family and I had none. He could've just left me on my own…left me to make more stupid mistakes, but he didn't."

"He saved both of us, in a sense," Harry pointed out. "That's part of why we have to do this," he sighed.

Draco slid over, throwing a leg up on the table, then dropped it to the side, so that Harry's chair was between his thighs. Brushing the hair from Harry's face, he ran his thumb over Harry's lips, as he searched his face. "Listen. This is just a suggestion, but I think it might help things if you ask him about the journal again, while I'm gone."

Harry made a move to bite his thumb, but Draco pulled it away just in time. With a mock glare, Harry reminded him, "Won't work. I've tried before and he absolutely refuses."

"See, with Severus, you just have to push a bit more. Keep it up and don't stop—sometimes he'll just explode…tell you things to shut you up."

Harry looked doubtful. "I don't know…."

"Tell him what we know, what both of us are going to do. Be honest—explain to him we're going to figure it out, one way or another, and since there's more than an average chance of getting it wrong, he might just as well tell us."

"You'd be better at that than me," Harry protested.

Draco grinned. "Probably, but he'd suspect I was manipulating him, but you…nah, not the honest, straight-forward Gryffindor."

"Sounds a lot like manipulating to me," Harry mused.

"Exactly," Draco confirmed. "What's the worst that could happen? He'll refuse to say anything, or he might just come out and tell you things that would put this all to bed."

Harry didn't like the idea of intentionally provoking Snape, but Draco had a valid point: if Snape would just come out and tell them, then they wouldn't be spending time and effort on things that he could explain in a heartbeat. Still, his past experiences, albeit accidental, of engaging the Potions master in a game of wits made him naturally wary. But this was a dead man in a painting, he reminded himself for what felt like the hundredth time, so how bad could it be?

Harry shrugged. "All right, I'll give it a try. It's not like he has a wand or anything," he muttered, dramatically banging his head on the table between Draco's knees, and was rewarded with a laugh and a total scalp massage.

oooOOOooo

That night they headed off for bed, after an hour's worth of talk and then reading to Snape from the Treatise. Harry paused in the doorway of the bedchamber. He heard Draco undressing behind him, and was just about to close the door when he changed his mind; he smiled as he left it open a crack.

CHAPTER SIX