This ‘saga' began as the result of several events.
We were discussing whether Snape could be a Top. Pictures of Tom Felton (aka Draco) from Prisoner of Azkaban were released, where his hair wasn't slicked back. I was addicted to the snippets Chaos Rose kept posting on her live journal.
At the time, I was in the process of writing MATTER OF TRUST with kai, in which I was producing the Kingsley Shacklebolt parts, who was definitely interested in topping Snape. The thought of a Snape who topped Harry was interesting, but if I was going that way, why not have him top two brats?
For a few rare exceptions, I am not a fan of Draco Malfoy fic. But the Draco we were getting a look at before Prisoner of Azkaban was coming out had certainly changed. For one thing, he had sprouted up and looked...well, more mature. And Daniel Radcliffe was losing that baby face and showing hints of the man he will become (I hope!).
I'm not keen on chan, but if I made the lads seventeen...
And for a self-challenge, what if I decided to make this as smutty as I could... (Warning: BDSM before it slips into something else. Just so you know.)
And if this self-challenge was posted only on LJ...(and now here, per requests.)
And I was wondering just how time-consuming writing snippets could be, what with Real Life, and MoT, and everything else.
So I sat down and sort of plotted, very loosely, where these snippets might go. I calculated maybe 25 postings at the most. How wrong could I be!
Post One went up January 18, 2004; the 105th, July 17, 2004.
Yes, you've read that right: 105.
But we had a lot of fun while this was going on.
Before you plunge into the ‘neverending story' as it became known, I have to thank some people.
Cluegirl, for the title. Actually, as I was posting this, Aucta Sinistra was posting a story with the same title, so I added the T.O.O. (Which initials mean absolutely nothing: I thought it might be fun to add periods to the word ‘too'.)
Not_Sally, for inventing the term PPP, Porn Plus Plot, because it turned out that I can't write smut without a plot.
The people who commented as we went along this journey, some regularly (ntamara, not_sally, sevter, September_1967, kaiz, cluegirl), some whenever I seemed to need that little bit of extra encouragement (chaos_rose, meri_oddities, pitchblackrose, wiseguru, meminisse, quondamquadnt, askerian, salixbabylon, musigneus, kat_denton, dememtordelta, shezan, scifispice80, and many more). I'm even including all those of you who friended me but never commented.
Special thanks to WestMoon, who often served as a sounding board.
Apart from going back and correcting some of the more obvious typos, QUID is being posted as it was written, unbetaed. Which is why you'll notice a change in tone as it took hold. It was really meant to be ‘casual', but it grew more serious as matters were uncovered.
It was meant to be a fun piece: hope you all have fun with it! I certainly did when I ended a post with a tease. Most of these were posted one a day, with a few exceptions.
Let me know if you liked it: firstname.lastname@example.org
Oh, one more thing: the problem of Harry's glasses. After a few posts, I got tired of taking them off and putting them back on. I figured you could do that yourselves.
I've asked Nell to post these in blocks of ten postings, for those of you who are still, as I am, on dial-up. That way if you don't like it, you won't have wasted all that time and money.
And, without further ado, here we go!
Blame Chaos Rose for this: she's been happily posting snippets for months...and I'm copying this methodology from her. However, unlike her, these postings, as well as being totally unbeta'ed, will be erratic, dependent on real life inspiration. (Aka, when RL pisses me off enough.)
Okay...so as promised, this is to be a Dom/Top!Severus and a Sub/Bottom someone else.
And since I can't write a PWP to save my life, I decided instead to provide a short backgrounder that I never intend to write.
Warnings: It's obviously a BDSM genre of story. Oh, and POV will be all over the place.
Oh, BTW: this is totally AU, as if I had to say so! [g]
Harry is in his last year at Hogwarts, which makes him 17 and therefore legal. (An aside here: I am still a little uncomfortable writing him at that age even if he is legal...guess I'm not real material for The Black List).
The War is still raging and Voldemort is giving the Order of the Phoenix a good run for its money. Things are tense.
Draco, also 17, also in his last year, has repudiated his father and all that he stands for after...well, who cares. Make up a reason that will please you. All that's important is that some newly revealed addendum of the Prophecy has indicated that he is somehow important to Harry's eventual success. Should, of course, Harry succeed.
Therefore, both lads have to work together.
And, right now, they're getting along as well as...two wet cats in a sac, a starving terrier and an enraged rat who does not intend to be supper. As well as a Gryffindor and a Slytherin who have hated each other's guts from the moment they met.
This is very worrying for Albus Dumbledore, who knows that they have to get them to – at the very least – co-operate. To that end, he has tried all sorts of things...with no success. As Harry's Head of House, Minerva McGonagall has tried talking to him with no greater success. Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin, has said that he has tried with Draco as well.
But the moment the two spy each other, hexes begin to fly and...well, that does not bode well for eventual victory over Voldemort.
Albus has invited Minerva and Severus to his office to discuss the matter. After some mutual accusations, Minerva and Severus reluctantly admit that just speaking to the lads is not working. Sadly, Albus concurs.
"Maybe," says Severus, eyeing his fellow Head of House over the rim of his teacup, "the problem lies in the fact that the moment they leave our presences and conciliatory words, both Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter are egged on by their various followers. They are but seventeen and I think we can all remember the kind of pride at that age which insists that one rise to the behaviour one's friends demand."
Albus frowns then nods. Minerva opens her mouth to protest then slowly closes it . She takes a sip of her tea before conceding Severus is indeed correct.
"Maybe the best thing would be to remove them from such influences," continues Severus. "Yule break is coming and both of them have nowhere to go and so will remain here for the holidays."
Albus sets down his cup and ruminates. "What do you have in mind, Severus?"
Severus shrugs. "On the spur of the moment, I would think that putting them in a situation where each must depend on the other, for some reason," he gestures in a negligent manner with his free hand, "might teach them the value of teamwork?"
Albus silently communicates with Minerva who only asks, "And who will teach them the value of teamwork?"
Severus looks pensive. "Well, Albus can't. He's far too busy over the holidays playing politics with the Minister. Maybe you?"
Minerva snorts. "As Deputy Headmistress, I shall be supervising those who remain." Due to the War, a good half of the student body isn't going home.
"What will you be doing, Severus?" Albus asks, innocently. Slytherin House is already at half strength and so Severus has fewer responsibilities than normal.
He sits up straight, stiffly glaring at Albus and then at Minerva. "No. No way. It was only a suggestion. I...I have things to do. And," he looks even less happy as Albus begins to smile, "who knows when Voldemort will summon me?"
"He never summons during the holidays," says Minerva, maliciously.
Glaring openly at the two watching him, Severus growls, "Just because he's never done so before doesn't..."
"Yes, yes," interrupts Albus. "I see your point. But it still remains that for some reason Voldemort has never done so at this time of the year. And there's a good chance that history will repeat itself." He sits back in his chair and sends a twinkling look over his half-spectacles at the Head of Slytherin, who must be wishing that he had never opened his mouth. "So, where will you take them?"
Severus can only shrug.
The morning of the Hogwarts Express holiday run, while friends were saying their good-byes, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were summoned to the headmaster's office. There, both were surprised to find not the Headmaster, but the Potions instructor awaiting them.
Before either could do more than complain, "What are you..." "Why did you...", Snape cast "Stupefy!" on both of them.
With a satisfied smirk that would have given Albus much cause for concerned thought, Snape reduced the two young men into miniature form so that they fit in well within his pockets and then, humming softly under his breath, made his way to Moaning Mrytle's loo.
Draco regained consciousness slowly. He blinked and looked around, not knowing where he was. He did know that his feet were on a stone floor which, for some reason, was not cold. That his arms were raised above his head and that his wrists were confined in some sort of lined manacles.
That he was naked.
As was Harry, who stood across from him, attired and restrained as he was.
Except that Harry knew where they were.
"Bloody hell! The Chamber of Secrets!"
"Really?" Draco looked around. So this was Salazar's famous bolt hole. Well, that would explain the two rows of serpent's heads. And if Harry's wrists were manacled to a pair of fangs, it would be simple logic for him to assume that his were as well.*
Both turned heads to the large stone image of – could it be Salazar himself? – with a fire raging in the cavity of its mouth, at the far end of the aisle. And at the man sitting, between it and them, in a very comfortable armchair, watching them, a glass of something red in hand.
"Snape!" growled Harry. "What the fuck..."
And he got no more than that out as Snape picked up the wand resting on his lap and cast a silencing spell. "There will be none of that, Mr. Potter. One of the things you will learn over the next days is respect for your elders. You may potentially be the most powerful wizard we have yet to see, but that talent does not preclude manners."
Draco got the message. "Professor Snape," he said, in his most respectful tones.
But Snape cast Silencio on him as well. He set his glass down on a small table that suddenly appeared and strolled over to the two young men.
Draco, feeling a little put out that his manners were not being respected, glared at the wizard.
Snape smiled. Not a pleasant smile. He used the tip of his wand to stroke Harry's check. Harry pulled back, snarling and snapping silently. Snape's smile grew. He then repeated the same gesture on Draco who, though he did not pull away, did allow his eyes to communicate his displeasure. Snape's smile grew.
"One of the other things you will learn is that what I do to one, I do to the other." He stood, arms crossed, wand still in hand. "Now, I'm certain that, should you take the time to put those reputed brains of yours into function, you may conclude as to why you are here." He waited. After a minute, he pointed his wand at Draco. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. "Be..." He coughed. "Because we've been asked to get along."
"And?" Snape pointed his wand at Harry.
Who spat out, "Why the fuck..." and once again got no further.
Another wave of Snape's wand and both young men were once more silenced. Snape smiled, happily for him. "Yes, well, I see I have my work cut out for me." He turned and went back to his chair and his wine. "The object of this first session will be to make you both understand just how tired we...and when I say ‘we', I speak for Albus, Minerva and myself...how tired we are of trying to trying to get some degree of basic co-operation between the two of you."
He leaned forward, even inch the Death Eater he played at being for Voldemort's pleasure. "We are tired of your juvenile behaviours. Yes, Mr. Potter, I know that the fate of the wizardry world rests on those far too young shoulders of yours, but such is life. Mr. Malfoy, we also know what you have given up in coming over to our side, but thankful as we are, there are limits to our forbearance. You may be pleased to know that you have both managed to surpass the tolerance even of Albus, who is, in my opinion, far too tolerant at the best of times."
He sat back in his chair. "Ergo: the first session will be one of punishment."
He waved his wand and two thin leather belts appeared. Another wave and the fangs to which they were manacled began moving so that Harry and Draco were forced forward. They came to stop with maybe a foot of space between them. At a third wave of Snape's wand, the belts flew to take positions behind each lad.
Snape poured himself another glass of wine and settled back, crossing one leg over the other. "I think we'll start with thirty. Just to see what the effect of that is. Then I'll decide how many more you'll receive. And, Potter, you won't be needing those." With a wave of his hand, Potter's glasses flew off his face and went to rest on the small table.
"Oh, and since I shall be stuck here with you two until you learn to work together, I don't see why I can't derive some pleasure from the situation. I shall enjoy hearing the two of you..." his grin was positively wicked, "...sing together."
As he released their voices, the belts struck simultaneously.
There was the sound of gasps, nothing else. Snape grinned to himself as he took a sip of wine. Yes, his little challenge would work on these two. Potter would try as hard as possible not to let a sound past his lips that might give his hated Potions instructor some pleasure. Malfoy's pride would insist that if Potter didn't scream, neither would he.
Yes, this would make up somewhat for the potions he wouldn't be working on during this break. He couldn't be in his lab, enjoying himself with experimentation, so they owed him. And they would pay. Big time. And if, in the process of their learning to work together, he was rewarded with other benefits...
He smiled and, if Harry and Draco had not been busy swallowing their moans as their arses and thighs heated up under the relentless belts, they would have been even more worried.
Draco bit back his scream of rage at the first lash but couldn't prevent the gasp of astonishment as a line of fire streaked across his arse.
All that fucker Potter did was wince and press his lips together. Damn it! Those rumours about his having been abused by the Muggles responsible for him had to be true then.
Draco ground his teeth together and braced himself. Maybe Potter's arse was used to this, but his skin was virginal. His father's abuse had been verbal, not physical. Merlin! Lucius would have killed anyone who had dared to lay hands – without his expressed permission – on his son and heir. Which he no longer was.
He hadn't thought the pain could get any worse, but it did. With each new line of fire. Bloody hell, how was he going to endure thirty of these? He purposely closed his throat to the need to scream. What were they up to now? Fuck! He wanted to scream but unless Potter....
Harry had braced himself for the first blow. All things considered, even if it had been some time, he had an idea of what to expect. After all, Uncle Vernon had been handy with a belt. But, shit, he had used it whenever he had lost his temper and thereby control. His blows had landed every which way, never in this determined manner. He was willing to swear that the second and third blows fell exactly on top of that first one.
He grit his teeth and took some consolation in that Malfoy was faring far worse than he. His face was grimaced with the effort of remaining silent. Sweat was beginning to add a sheen to his face, to darken the white-blond hair.
From his chair, Snape watched the still silent struggles to endure the punishment being meted out. Instead of spending months talking to these two brats, someone should have made them drop their drawers and bend them over a knee...
His breath caught at the image. Two nicely firmed arses...taunt with muscles developed at Quidditch...white...slowly turning pink then red under a hand...under his hand...
He slouched a little in the chair, spreading his legs apart so that his cock had room in which to respond. Yes, well, that would come...eventually. Right now, a message had to penetrate two thick skulls.
Draco gave up first. He finally allowed himself the release of a good high- pitched scream. And he followed that up with yet another whenever the belt landed on the fire raging in his arse.
Having won, Harry joined him the third time Malfoy's voice filled the Chamber. More in tones of moaning as yet than screaming, but it was such a relief to be able to focus just on enduring the whipping than trying to beat Malfoy.
After an eternity during which several galaxies came into being and in due time imploded, the belts went still.
Snape slowly found his feet, his aching cock rubbing in that good/awful way against the placket of his trousers. He strolled down to where the two young men were sagging in their bounds, gasping and panting, faces wet with tears and sweat. And with mucus running from their noses.
His cock grew harder.
He stood there, the blood in his prick throbbing in tempo with his heartbeat, and revelled in the heavenly achiness of it all.
Eventually, he had the attention of both lads. He smiled at them, benevolently. He went to stand behind Potter whose body was shuddering with the most delightful little shivers. This one would be harder to train than the other. His history would see to that.
Right now, his arse was hot enough to fry an egg, should Snape have wanted an egg fried on such a luscious arse. The belt had done its work well. There were four concentrated stripes across Potter's trembling buttocks with two on his thighs. Over Potter's shoulder, he smiled at Malfoy who was watching him with teary, wary trepidation. It was a good look on the lad.
Still smiling, Snape lay his hand on Potter's arse and slowly dragged his fingers across the firey lines. Potter moaned, his moans increasing in volume as Snape's fingers dug deeper into the redness.
Malfoy shook his head slightly, eyes opening wider in disbelief.
Ah, that was good. The lad had remembered his promise: what was done to one would be done to the other.
Grinning broadly, Snape brought his hand down on Potter's arse and found he quite enjoyed not only the feel of that hot skin against his palm, but the strangle shout that accompanied it. So he did it again. And again.
By now, Malfoy was shaking his head wildly, as if that would accomplish anything. Snape waited to move behind the lad so that Potter had time to recover and, like Malfoy, could watch his fellow captive respond. After all, why should Slytherin House have all the fun?
Malfoy's belt, perhaps suspecting that this was a new experience for him, had not concentrated on a few spots. Instead, it had worked the area from the top of the arse, across it and down the thighs so that it had called up a uniform colour of dark pink all over its canvas.
The skin was less hot to his examining fingers than Potter's, but not really much less sensitive.
"No, please, don't!" Malfoy wriggled, tearfully trying to avoid Snape's touch.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Mr. Malfoy. Share and share alike." Snape brought his hand down hard the requisite three times on Malfoy's appealingly rosy bottom.
And caught the malicious relish at his shouts in Potter's eyes.
Snape gave them several minutes to recover from their first chastisement. He knew these two far better than he would have ever acknowledged to Albus. If they were to win over Voldemort, the young men had to become a Unit, with someone – himself, preferably – over them, to direct them, to protect them, to care for them.
Because among the many things these two had in common was the lack in their lives of someone who truly cared for them. Well, he was willing to take on the responsibility. It would be hard work – he smiled to himself as he thought of that – but in the long run, everyone should benefit. The Wizardry World would be rid of yet another powerful wizard who thought himself a demigod. Snape snickered. Voldemort would be highly offended at that ‘demi': he thought himself far above that.
And, if all worked as he planned, the Wizardry World would replace him with one who was truly far more powerful, yet under control.
As for Malfoy, there was a great deal of potential there as well. It would be up to Snape to release it.
But, first, back to matters at hand.
At his command, the fangs moved forward so that now the two were not just face to face, but slicked chest to slicked chest. It was time to begin creating the Unit.
"Gentlemen, now that you have had a taste of punishment, it is time for that lesson to be firmly entrenched in your minds as well as in your arses."
Two sets of eyes turned towards him. Snape didn't bother to hide his pleasure at the fear in the grey ones, the hatred in the green. They would learn.
"I believe another thirty will help get that message across."
Before Malfoy had time to do more than gasp out "Thir..." the belts took up their work.
This time, Snape remained close to his lads. The thought caught his attention.
And something that had needed filling in him warmed.
Unlike the first time, the belts did not hit simultaneously. One followed the other so that each lad felt the effect on the other. Malfoy gasped and his body pressed against Potter's as he absorbed the lash on already tender skin. Then Potter's belt landed, causing him to push against Malfoy who winced.
Snape watched them carefully. Malfoy was the first to begin weeping. True weeping. Not shouting, not screaming. Just letting go and weeping.
Though Potter's eyes were tearing, they were doing so from pain, not release. Yet just when Snape wondered if he would have to break the boy before this could work, the slightly shorter Potter leaned his forehead onto Malfoy's shoulder and turned his face so that it was hidden against Malfoy's throat.
When Malfoy allowed his head to rest on top of Potter's, both his boys taking some comfort from the other in spite of the pain that was flaring in their arses, Snape knew this would work.
Not easily. He didn't delude himself that, after this initial inter-dependency, these two would immediately become a cohesive unity. No way. These were two hardheaded, arrogant – each in his own way – future leaders. It would be a rare battle but one – Snape nodded as he heard the first sob break out of Potter – well worth fighting.
And he would not lose.
When the belts were done, Snape disappeared them and allowed the magical ropes holding the manacles to loosen so that the two sobbing slowly dropped to their knees, still leaning one into the other.
He would allow the pain to remain some time before magicking it away. It would not do to diminish the lesson too quickly. The young recovered so very quickly. And forgot equally well.
Draco managed to get his eyes to open. He knew that they were swollen from all his crying. Damn, but he didn't know which hurt most: his head or his arse. He hated crying at the best of times because of the headaches that always followed. Eyes squinted, he moved his head enough so that he could peer over Potter's shoulder and check his arse. The belt seemed to have concentrated this time on the skin it had ignored the first. Potter's arse was almost glowing it was so red. He wanted to turn his head to check his own but even the thought of doing so hurt.
Harry tried to control the hiccups that were shaking him, making his arse tremble and thereby keep the flame that had taken up house there continue flaring up. Fucking Snape! When they got away from here, Snape was going to pay for this, for every moment of pain he'd had to suffer. He was going to kill him slowly. Make him wish that Voldemort would rescue him even if it was only to kill him.
But right now, all he had the energy to do was rest his head against bloody Malfoy and try to get his heart to beat less strongly. If he could do that, he told himself, his arse would hurt less.
He moved his head so that he could see if Malfoy's tears had been real. Damn, Malfoy's arse looked like his felt. So they wanted them to work together, eh? Well, maybe they would. The two of them would kill Snape.
Harry waited until Snape had spelled the pain away. So the arsehole thought he was such a great wizard, did he? That he was going to put the Boy Who Lived in his place.
Harry would show him just what power a real wizard had. He'd been practicing his wandless abilities up in the Astronomy Tower late at night, when no one else was around. He wasn't all that proficient, but he was good enough to take Snape by surprise. The fucker wouldn't be expecting this kind of power.
He pushed himself up onto his knees. The soreness was gone from his arse, but his mind remembered the firey pain. It affected his movements. They were stiff and awkward, but Harry pretended to be very chastised, his head hanging pathetically – he thought – while that idiot Malfoy huddled, bent over his knees, still sniffling. So much for the great Slytherin advantages of pureblood and birth! He probably wouldn't have lasted a day under the Dursley regime!
Snape was standing by the chair, his back to them. Harry checked that Malfoy was not faking his response to the second beating then he raised one of his hands and screamed, "Accio, wand!"
Accio had worked well for him on the Astrology Tower. It was one of the few wandless spells he could cast successfully every time. And he'd practiced at a variety of distances. These few feet would be no trouble.
It should have worked.
Snape turned and looked at him, that fucking eyebrow rising high, nostrils flaring, mouth tight as though smelling something disagreeable, an experiment gone wrong, in his Potions classroom. With a negligent gesture of his wand, both young men were firmly bound in the invisible bindings of the manacles.
He shifted his weight onto a hip and shook his head at Harry. "My wand, Mr. Potter? You are trying to order obedience from my wand? Mr. Potter, I don't think you fully understand the seriousness of this situation." He strolled over to where the two young men were kneeling on the floor. Malfoy's head was up, looking at Harry aghast, as though he didn't believe what he was seeing.
Snape slowly crouched so that he could speak into Potter's face. "Fortunately, I have the patience to explain this to you in words of one or fewer syllables so that you can and will understand. We are, Mr. Potter, as you so rightly announced, in the Chamber of Secrets. Salazar Slytherin's private domain. In your previous visit as the Champion of All Things Gryffindor, Albus sent you the Sorting Hat and Godric Gryffindor's sword. And, with those, came the power for you to overcome the basilisk and Tom Riddle."
Ah, that last Malfoy had not known. He raised his chest off his knees and looked from one to the other as though waiting for more secrets to be revealed. As they would be.
"But now, Mr. Potter, you are here for far different reasons. You are here to learn your place and to accept it. Your little experiments at the top of the Astrology Tower... Ah, you didn't know you were being watched? Truly, Mr. Potter, you are naive on top of everything. How sad. Tell me, Mr. Potter, do you truly believe that Albus couldn't have stopped your excursions to the Tower if he had wanted to? Of course he could have. As could have, had we been permitted to do so, any Head of House."
Potter made a sound much like a growl. Snape surreptitiously reached for his wand. The boy had powers that he hadn't as yet realised. It would be foolish to underestimate him.
"You will find that your magic does not work here. Any more than Mr. Malfoy's. With or without your wands. The Chamber is specially warded. Only my magic works here." Snape stood up. "You would both do well to remember that." He sighed, putting a little exasperation into it. " And I shall have to see to it that you do."
Malfoy, glaring at Potter, spat, "You bloody bastard!"
"Shut the fuck up!" Harry snarled, angry and worried.
Snape sighed: so much for their bonding. He waved his wand and both lost their voices again. Another wave of his wand and the bindings drew them up, onto their feet.
"The strap does not seem to have worked, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you are far too familiar with it in your Muggle existence. For all of Lucius Malfoy's proclivities for what could be called socially unacceptable behaviour, he never once lay hands on his son, no matter the provocation. All this is new to Mr. Malfoy."
Snape stood behind Potter and gently lay his hands on Potter's hips. The boy tried to swing them away from his touch, but Snape clamped down tightly enough to hold them steady. "As I have said, as I do to one, I do to the other. Before this, you were both equally guilty of bad behaviour. But now, Mr. Potter," he spoke directly into the boy's ear, "only you are responsible for what will follow. And, unfortunately, Mr. Malfoy will have to suffer the consequences of your actions. I wonder how that sits with your Gryffindor sense of morality? Let's see, shall we?"
Snape released Potter's hips and come to stand in front of him. He took the boy's chin in hand and forced him to look at the other lad watching with real trepidation. Well, should that one have harboured thoughts of rebellion, this might put pay to them. "This time, punishment will begin with Mr. Malfoy. Yes, you will have to watch as I deal with the matter. Watch and listen. All the while knowing that what is happening to Mr. Malfoy is of your doing."
And, hoped Snape, remembering that once he was though with Malfoy, Potter himself would suffer the same treatment.
With a wave of his hand – blatantly rubbing Potter's nose into the fact that he was not the only adept at wandless magic – Snape Accio'ed the chair up to just behind Malfoy. With another gesture, the arms detached themselves from the body of the chair and slipped under the seat. Snape went and sat down, making himself comfortable. Potter was glaring openly at him while Malfoy twisted his body to try and see what Snape was up to.
Satisfied that he had both their attentions, Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand and a small round piece of wood that had a handle. At a couple of words, the small piece of wood expanded in size until it became what it truly was: a punishment paddle. Something with which, Snape could tell by their sudden growing understanding, neither lad had any experience.
Snape murmured another spell and the bounds holding Malfoy up moved so that the boy was slightly suspended, his toes barely dragging on the ground. Another few words and Snape reached up to pull Malfoy belly down onto his own knees. Before the lad had time to do more than wriggle, Snape grabbed a hand, pulled it back to hold the boy immobile enough for the first blow to land.
Dear Merlin! Draco felt the embarrassment of the position more than that first blow. He'd heard about being punished in this manner, but he'd never thought it would happen to him.
And, shit! That paddle hurt. It covered more territory than the belt had. A whole buttock at a time. And Snape was alternating buttocks with each blow.
And, somehow, the fact that it was Snape's hand controlling the paddle made this far more personal than the whipping had been. And the sensation of the wool of Snape's robe scratching against his sensitive skin made a strange contrast to the heat that was once more building in his arse.
By Salazar, he was willing to bet that he'd been beaten more in the day than Bulstrode's pater beat his kids in a month!
Fucking bloody Potter! When he had a chance, that prick was going to regret everything he'd ever done or said to Draco Malfoy!
Oh, fuck, that hurt! Snape looked so scrawny, who'd have guessed he could swing a paddle with such force!
He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry.
Oh, fuck it, he was going to cry.
He hoped bloody Potter was happy now. Fucking around with wandless magic at a time like this!
Oh, damn, he was never going to be able to sit ever again in his life. Even if Snape did spell the pain away.
And then it became hard to think so he focused on getting through this.
"Twenty-five. I think that should make the point." Snape dropped the paddle and stroked the skin of Malfoy's slicked back. He rubbed circles until he felt the sobs decrease in strength. He almost felt sorry for him: to the best of his knowledge, the lad had never before been subjected to such treatment. It was a lot for him to take in one day. Mind, he deserved some of it: if only for the fact that his behaviour was one of the reasons they were down here.
He had watched Potter surreptitiously during the paddling. He'd managed to hang onto his sang-froid until Malfoy had begun kicking out. Then he'd dipped his head, trying to hide behind that fringe of hair. Now and then Snape had caught a wince, but whether that was in sympathy for Malfoy or because he knew he was next, Snape wouldn't wager to guess.
He turned his attention back to Malfoy who was sobbing quietly. Snape allowed him to drop to his knees between his own legs, still maintaining contact, hand soothing the tension in his shoulders, directing the lad to rest against his lap. "Well done, Mr. Malfoy," he spoke softly into the lad's ear. A little positive re-enforcement was not out of line right now.
Draco dropped his head into Snape's robe, rubbing his face to wipe the wetness off it. The fire in his arse was blazing as strongly as it had been the other two times but, this time, Snape's words...
A compliment from Snape. Hell, Snape didn't offer compliments. Draco doubted that he'd heard a ‘well done' in the nearly seven years he'd spent in Snape's class. And now Snape's hand was stroking his head. Damn, he wished he had the courage to ask for a potion for his headache. But damned if he was going to let Potter know that it felt as though it were splitting.
"Well done," Snape gently tugged Malfoy away from where he was buried against him. He brushed the hair off the lad's tear-swollen face. "Now, go kneel over there, where Mr. Potter is. He had a good view of how you responded, now it's time for you to see how he handles this situation."
If Snape expected to hear an apology of any kind offered to Malfoy, he was disappointed. Potter only glared at the two of them.
And he was not very co-operative in assuming the proper position: Snape finally used his wand to get Potter properly positioned onto his lap. It struck him, this time, the lad seemed somewhat wary. So, had the Muggles been ready with a belt, not with a hand?
Harry bit his lip, trying to hold longer than Malfoy had. The belt had been bad enough, but this paddle thing... Thank god Uncle Vernon had never been into this. He was ready enough with his belt when he wanted. The paddle...assuming that he could have handled it as Snape did...would have killed him.
Oh, shit, the fucker hurt!
He suddenly discovered that his disdain of Malfoy's weeping was uncalled for. He wondered if Malfoy was feeling vindicated every time Harry yelled out?
Why the fuck couldn't his wandless magic have worked? Oh, damn, was Snape going to insist that he apologize to the swarmy prick? Over his dead body.
Not that he thought Snape would go that far. They needed him to defeat Voldemort.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, how many had it been?
Oh, thank god! Snape was stopping. Letting him down. Rubbing his back. Speaking to him. Like he was concerned or something.
As soon as he could, Harry pulled away. Let fucking Snape mollycoddle his fucking little Slytherin pal. Harry was a Gryffindor. The Boy Who Lived. The Hope of the fucking wizardry world.
Not Draco Malfoy's whipping boy.
Sight blurry – Harry convinced himself it was because he didn't have his glasses – he managed to move, leaning forward on his hands, and took the place near Malfoy, who was watching him warily, probably wondering if Harry was going to do anything else to get them punished.
Snape reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a jar. With a finger, he beckoned Malfoy to him.
There was the definite undertone of a whimper in the boy's plea. Even Potter's breath hitched and he lost a little of the red tinge in his face.
"This is not punishment, Mr. Malfoy. I promise you, both you and Mr. Potter, that when I punish you, I will tell you so. And you will know the reason for it. Right now, I want to do something about the heat in your arse. Of course, should you prefer to try and sleep with it..."
Malfoy hesitantly moved up to him. He wisely kept to his knees and hands. Snape smiled: the position looked rather good on the boy.
"Over my knees again, Mr. Malfoy. I'm certain that you remember the position."
He had to give the lad points for some courage. Wincing, Malfoy gingerly placed himself face-down, braced for whatever Snape intended to do to him.
Snape opened the jar and dipped his fingers into the blueish gel. Beginning just out of the range of the redness at the top of Malfoy's buttocks, he began smoothing the cooling ointment gradually over more and more skin. He hid his smile when Malfoy sighed aloud with relief and his shoulders actually sagged.
Snape was careful never to do more than gently slide his gel-laden fingers over any new area, allowing the medication to numb the pain away before exerting just a little more pressure, guaranteeing that the ingredients would work their own particular magic. He could have used his wand, as he had, to eliminate the after-effects, but they had been put there by his hand and, by his hand, they were going to be removed.
Besides, it also gave him the opportunity to do a little checking out on another state of his charges. Malfoy was almost moaning with pleasure as the heat and the pain in his arse dissipated. Snape took advantage of Malfoy's momentary lack of any particular sensation – other than the cessation of pain – to rub a bare finger along Malfoy's crack.
Ah, a little hip movement upwards. That was most promising. He dipped his finger into the gel again before returning to his explorations. The boy responded again when Snape rubbed small circles around his hole. Just a small change in tone of his sighs, but with a hint of surprise more than appreciation. When the area had been totally desensitised by the gel, Snape slipped the tip of his finger into the boy's hole, down to the first knuckle.
Snape quickly removed the finger before Potter could notice what he was doing. He wasn't certain just how clearly that one could see without his glasses and he didn't want him too tensed up for his own examination.
By the time Snape was done with him, Malfoy was almost sleeping. It had been an exhausting day for him. A few words and a wave of his wand, a thin pallet appeared. Snape helped Malfoy over to it and allowed him to curl up on it before turning to Potter.
"Your turn, Mr. Potter."
He expected an argument. Potter's mouth opened as though to give him one, then, slowly, closed. The lad made his way over to the chair and positioned himself on Snape's knees. Unlike Malfoy, Potter was silent during his treatment, a sigh of pleasure or relief never passing his lips. But, like Malfoy, his anus was tight.
Snape waited until Potter had settled on his pallet before casting "Morpheus" on both of them. Once assured that Potter was sound asleep, Snape conjured up a blanket and tucked it around his Gryffindor.
The boy was not going to be easy. He could understand that, knowing where the boy came from. Not just the Muggle background, but who his parents had been.
Snape sat back on his heels and examined the drawn face. Voldemort's scar stood out, testament to the hopes and expectations placed on the boy. Snape gently brushed the hair off the boy's face. Yes, he did look like his father. Holy Saint fucking James Potter. The Gryffindor pet of the Headmaster. The leader of the Golden Gryffindors, the bane of his school days. Snape felt the anger rise in him but stomped it out as soon as he sensed it. No, this was not James. And Potter was not just James's son: the eyes belonged to Lily. As did the intelligence, underused though it was.
He would remember that, he promised the sleeping boy as he tucked the blanket a little higher up around his shoulders.
He took a moment to tuck Malfoy in as well. The son disowned. Snape shook his head. Lucius Malfoy would not have handled the day as well as this no-longer-son of his had. There was a lot of the mother in this one as well. Narcissa looked ineffectual, but she had a spine of steel when it was necessary.
As he brushed the hair off Malfoy's face, the boy groaned. Snape's fingers hesitated. Had the boy hurt his head? His lips were pressed tightly together and there was a greyish cast to his complexion. Then he remembered Narcissa snarling at Lucius that she never wept when he had accused Draco of being a crier like his mother. She'd later confided to Snape that weeping not only made her eyes red, it gave her severe headaches. Had the boy inherited that from her as well?
Snape cast a headache dispelling charm and Malfoy gave forth a deep sigh of relief as the tension in his face relaxed and some colour came back. Snape nodded to himself: another thing he would have to remember.
Slowly standing, Snape became aware of his own headache and exhaustion. It had been a trying day for him as well. And there would be others before he attained the goal he had set himself.
With another spell, he conjured up his own bed from his quarters and set it to one side, where he could keep an eye on his two...his two... What was he to call them? Right now, brats was all that came to mind.
Hanging around the nearer post was a small hourglass. So, Minerva had kept her promise: the time turner might come in handy before this was all over.
Snape rotated his right shoulder, working the ache out of it. He was used to stirring potions but it was surprising what different muscles paddling required. With a yawn, Snape lay on his bed, fully clothed. He was used to sleeping dressed whenever he had an important potion simmering away. Setting his internal clock for four hours of sleep, he closed his eyes.
Snape's internal alarm woke him. He stretched, his arms catching in his clothing, which made him wonder why he was in bed dressed this time. Oh, yes. Albus's little notion of his being the one to control two belligerent idiots, vital to the survival of their world.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Damn, he hated mornings at the best of times, but here in the Chamber, so far underground, there wasn't even a sliver of natural light anywhere.
And there was a pressing matter he needed to deal with as quickly as possible.
Now where would Salazar have set up a loo in this hidey-hole of his?
A disclosure spell later and one of the snake heads rotated grumblingly to reveal...well, not the latest in facilities. He had to remember that this place had been constructed some thousand years ago. A hole in the floor over a running stream...
Snape found some loose stones, ringed the hole with them then transfigured them into a modern sitting down toilet. There were limits to his tolerance for ‘roughing it'. At least it was down from where the theatre of this drama was set, the snake head providing some privacy
And they would eventually need some kind of bathing facilities. For the next few days, cleansing spells would do the trick but, at some point, he would be ready to kill for a shower or a soak.
Now that that had been dealt with, there was the matter of food. Ah, yes, he should have remembered he could trust the house elves to think of that. The small table, next to his chair, that had borne his wine now was covered with a breakfast tray. Bowls filled with pieces of a variety of fruit, some rolls lightly steaming, a small container of sweet butter, his favourite apple jelly, cream and sugar, and – oh, yes, thank Merlin – a carafe of coffee. Strong and black as he liked it.
The first cup jacked his bloodstream into circulating, the second kick-started his brain. He broke his fast of the last day while watching his brats still soundly sleeping.
All in all, a rather good way to begin the day, if day it was. Probably the quietest it would be as well. He wondered how long it would take for him to itch to pull out the paddle again.
He removed Morpheus and noted how the two woke. Malfoy did so slowly, taking the time to stretch rather languorously from the tips of his fingers, arms over his head, to the end of his toes, twisting his torso slightly as though to pop his vertebrae into place. Rather feline, his little Slytherin.
Potter, of course, was no such thing. He lay silently, eyes closed. Probably trying to remember where he was and why he was naked. Survival techniques that he must have developed at an early age. One day, when this was all over, Snape would pay a little visit to those Muggles and teach them a thing or two.
But, right now, it was time for these two to continue with their own lessons.
"Mr. Potter, you may use the toilet first. You will find it to the left of your bed, the snake at the end of the line."
Potter didn't move at first. Snape sighed in irritation: he really would have preferred not to begin this session with punishment.
Draco caught the sound and turned on his pallet to face Potter. "Move, you bastard," he muttered.
Potter's eyes snapped open at the insult. Draco wasn't certain just how clear he was to the other man so he growled, just to make his point, "If my arse gets paddled again because of you..."
Potter pushed the blanket aside and got to his feet. Squinting, he made his way to the appropriate snake.
When he was done, Snape signalled to Malfoy it was his turn as Potter stood midway, not knowing what was expected of him.
"Over here, Mr. Potter. Let's do something about those glasses of yours. You're too tall, kneel."
There was yet again some hesitancy, but slowly, reluctantly, the boy took the desired position. "Very good, Mr. Potter." Snape was careful to make his voice as neutral as possible. He knew this one would be less prone to wanting compliments from him. For now.
He slipped Potter's glasses on him, murmuring a stay-in-place spell so that they would not slip off, no matter what. He didn't expect any thanks and he didn't get any. Still, he did note that the boy blinked several times before he glanced around the immediate area, finally alighting on the food.
Harry's stomach growled. Shit, he was hungry. He'd had breakfast before going to the Headmaster's office, but that had been it. Without thinking, he reached for the food only to have Snape point his frigging wand at him. So they were going to do this Dudsley style, were they? Did Snape seriously think he was going to beg? Hell, even Dudsley knew that was something he wouldn't do. Hadn't done since what, the age of five?
Malfoy docilely knelt down to Snape's other side, glaring at him. So big fucking deal, Malfoy'd had his arse paddled. Harry had, too. And endured it. It wasn't his fault that Malfoys didn't believe in physical punishment.
"If you sit back on your heels, you'll find this easier," advised Snape.
Like the well-trained pup he was, Malfoy immediately obeyed. Harry kept his eyes on Snape's, waiting until he saw that little flare and then slowly settled back. He had no intention of making...whatever this was...any easier than it had to be. And if he managed to piss Snape off, well, the pay-off was that Malfoy would also suffer as he did.
Snape contained his sigh. He penalised Potter by offering the first piece of fruit to Malfoy who, after having his own thoughts about that, opened his mouth. He offered the next to Potter who took too long to decide, so he gave it to Malfoy. He buttered a part of roll next and offered that as well to Malfoy who – Snape had to hide his smile – made a little noise of enjoyment, more, he knew, to irritate Potter than out of true appreciation. These rolls were part of Hogwarts' breakfasts every day.
Potter waited a little too long at his offer of roll, so Malfoy got that piece as well. And, yes, his appreciation was just that bit more.
The natural competition between these two needed to be sorted into more positive areas, but the fact that it seemed so ingrained between them was something that Snape could and would use to his advantage.
He held out a cup of coffee fixed exactly as Malfoy took it and was pleased to see that the lad's response to the drink was as his. Mind, he did think the loud sigh was just that bit exaggerated. He prepared a second cup and offered it to Potter, who had finally understood that if he didn't take what was offered, Malfoy would. And rub his nose in it.
Snape braced himself for a long day.
Harry waited until he'd eaten his fill before deciding that attack was better than sitting back like some anxious dog, waiting for its master's attention. Snape had just sent the tray back to wherever it had come from when he sneered, "So what's next? Do you expect us to bow and kiss your feet? Or is this when we beg you to be allowed to kiss your arse?"
Malfoy, the git, rolled his eyes and turned, ready for a fight. Good. Let the little prick act up and deserve the beating Harry figured was next on the agenda anyway. Shit, there had to be a time limit to all this. Classes began again in less than two weeks. He could tolerate the beatings if they meant Snape and his plans were frustrated. And if Malfoy couldn't, well, that wasn't Harry's problem.
"Maybe it's your own arse you should kiss, bitch!"
The whole situation was suddenly too much for Harry and his sometimes hair-trigger temper. He saw red and completely forgot about Snape's being there. "Sure it isn't my cock you want to suck, arsehole. Oh, no, my mistake. It's Goyle's cock that you like down your gullet."
Malfoy reared up onto his feet. "I am a Malfoy. Malfoys do not suck cock."
Harry was also on his feet. Nose to nose, Harry spat, "No, you just drop to all fours like the good puppy you are and let them fuck you."
And Snape's wand re-activated the bounds and suddenly both lads found themselves back in the previous day's position: arms stretched above heads, hanging from the fangs, toes the only thing keeping them from swinging.
"How fascinating that you have managed to take us to the theme of this particular session, Mr. Potter." Snape slowly got up to his feet.
"Arse-kissing?" Potter bit out between clenched teeth.
"No, not at all," said Snape, calmly. "I was thinking more about cock- sucking."
At that, Malfoy and Potter actually exchanged an incredulous glance before both turned their heads to keep Snape in sight as he casually walked towards them.
Malfoy looked a tad uncertain as he opened his mouth then closed it. Snape smiled at him. "You're wrong, you know."
Malfoy bit his lower lip before accepting the challenge. "About what?"
"About Malfoys. They do suck cock. Rather well, when so inclined." He met Potter's eyes, "As do Potters."
"I've never sucked any guy's cock," snarled Potter. "And if you're saying that my father..."
Snape held up his wand and Potter wisely stopped there. "Let's leave your father out of this. But, one day, you should have a little talk with Lupin about some of the fun and games the Golden Gryffindors got up to in the privacy of their dormitory. Now then, as to your never sucking anyone's cock, that may be quite true, Mr. Potter. But having your cock sucked is a far different matter." And had to spell Silencio before the profanities spilled out of Potter's mouth. He shook his head slightly: really, the boy was far too obvious.
Snape smiled at Potter, knowing it would rile the boy more. "Let me see, I believe that Mr. Longbottom is a favourite of yours. So nice to know the boy is competent at some things. Oh, and Mr. Creevey. Though which one...or is it both?"
At Potter's angry blush, Snape shrugged. "You can't really think that you weren't seen. Or that word didn't get out. By now, you of all people should know that there are no secrets in Hogwarts. Certainly not from the Headmaster." He turned to Malfoy who was smirking delightedly. "As for you, well, really, Goyle and Crabbe were far too obvious choices on your part. You must be much ‘unrelieved' since you parted ways. Or have you replaced them yet?"
Malfoy raised a pale eyebrow and managed to look his usual arrogant self, quite a feat considering his position. "I can safely say that, when I have wanted it, I have never lacked for ‘relief', sir. A mouth is a mouth, be it male or female."
"Ahh." Snape pulled out his wicked smile, noticing that both lads grew wary at its sight. "Well, then I'm certain that, having been on the receiving end for so long, Mr. Malfoy, you will agree that it is far time for you to be on the giving."
Malfoy looked at Potter and then at Snape. "No way."
Snape turned to look at Potter. "Well, Mr. Potter, what say you?"
Capable of speech again, Potter sneered, "You seem to have forgotten, I'm not Slytherin."
Potter actually grinned. "It means I'm not queer. You want Malfoy's cock sucked, Professor, go ahead and do it yourself. Better yet, call in all of those remaining in Slytherin and let them each have a turn. Wouldn't be anything new."
Before Snape could react to the slurs on his House, Malfoy was scoffing, "I wouldn't want you anywhere near my cock, Potter. Probably have no idea how to go about it if all the experience you have is Longbottom and the Creeveys. Besides," he managed his best snooty look, "if I remember well, what happens to me, happens to you. And there's no telling where the hell your cock's been."
Harry bared his teeth but Malfoy ignored him, continuing with, "As for your not being queer, well, that would be news to most of Hogwarts, Gryffindors excepted, I suppose: you're all so blind."
"I AM NOT QUEER!"
"Really? Shall we ask Cho? Or what was the name of the Hufflepuff who dropped you after that one date? Ravenclaw females only laugh whenever you approach them. Unless, of course, you're lusting after Granger? Pity, she seems to prefer Weasley. All that red hair but he can get it up for a woman!"
Snape shook his head in disbelief. Here they were, bound both of them, having already experienced yesterday and its discipline, and yet snarling and yapping at each other like dogs straining at their leashes, ready to brawl.
Merlin help him, the day was indeed going to be a long one.
With an irritated wave of his wand, there was silence. But, this time, it was because both brats were wearing leather gags.
"We are going to engage in an experiment," announced Snape, in his usual classroom tones.
Both sets of eyes glared equally angrily at him. Well, at least, they were united in that.
"Both of you have experienced having your cock sucked, but neither has returned the favour. Both of you have made it very clear, at least to me, that you have no intention of doing so. Certainly not on the other here present. Am I correct so far in my summation of the situation?"
The leather gags filled his brats' mouths rather well, but Potter still managed to make some sound that Snape assumed was agreement. Malfoy just gave a short nod.
"Now you are both certain of your position? You, Mr. Potter, absolutely refuse to service Mr. Malfoy? Yes, I see. And Mr. Malfoy? That look seems very determined. All right, I accept your decisions. However, should you decide to change your minds... No? You seem awfully certain of that, gentlemen. Perhaps I can do something to make you reconsider."
It amused him that both sets of buttocks suddenly clenched. It was time for his brats to learn that there were different kinds of discipline. And, this time, there would be something in it for him.
"I think I shall begin with Mr. Malfoy."
If looks could kill, Potter would have been dead. Snape found it almost funny that Malfoy would immediately blame Potter when he, Snape, had been the one to make the comment.
He slowly walked around Malfoy, as though examining him for the first time. He was careful not to touch the boy.
"Nice buttocks, Mr. Malfoy. You and Mr. Potter are living proof of the benefits of Quidditch on that part of the body. Both of you are nicely toned there. Thighs are good, too. Knees aren't too knobby. Calves are well developed. Must come from all that pushing against the foot supports."
Malfoy was beginning to look puzzled. Over his shoulder, Snape could see Potter trying very hard to pretend not to be interested in what Snape was up to, his eyes focused with great intensity on the snake next in line.
"Body is attractive. Not too developed. I find the muscle-bound torso not at all pleasing. Don't you agree, Mr. Potter."
Potter was still interested in the snake to one side of Malfoy.
"And that blond hair, so pale as to be almost non-existent..." He turned quickly and caught Potter looking. The lad flushed slightly and refocused on the snake. Snape smiled then went back to his description of Malfoy who was looking confused. Snape knew he and Potter had been expecting another strapping of some kind. Not this.
"Pecs are just developed enough to fill one's hand. And the nipples...so pink... No reason to be embarrassed, Mr. Malfoy. There's nothing wrong with nipples of that colour. They match your blush. I wonder how sensitive they are. To touch. To taste. See how they rise when one pays the least amount of attention to them. Lovely abdomen, as well. Tight with its small well of a navel. Just the right size for the tip of one's tongue. My, did you catch that flutter under the skin, Mr. Potter?"
Malfoy wriggled in his bounds. His eyes were directed at the floor, as if he was having a harder time of this than he had with the punishment. Snape doubted that anyone had ever verbalised Malfoy's attractions other than ‘he's beautiful'. Well, he was beautiful. All those generations of wizard aristocracy. If only his personality were as attractive!
"And have you noticed his genitals yet, Mr. Potter? That pale bush certainly calls attention to his cocks and balls. Good proportions on that cock, don't you think? Not one of those overly long, baton-like things, but slim, like the body. Very snake-like, as befits, one could say, a true Slytherin. Will make an interesting mouthful nevertheless."
Malfoy's blush was spreading as his cock began to twitch. Potter had given up his interest in the architecture of the Chamber. And there was a slight hue to his face that hadn't been there.
"Have you ever wondered, Mr. Potter, what it looks like erect? The foreskin pulled back, the glans red, shiney from the pre-cum leaking from the slit? Will it rise straight or will it have a bit of a curve to it? How will it feel when hard? The skin so silky, the muscle so hard?"
Malfoy's cock was beginning to rise. That was good. If the lad was this responsive just to a voice and some suggestions...
He peered over his shoulder. Potter's cock was also showing signs of life. He'd already noticed that Potter had a nice one, too. A smidge shorter than Malfoy's at rest, but thicker, though not obscenely so. Not a club.
"The taste of cum is so dependent on what one eats. Did you know that? That might make a good experiment, determining Mr. Malfoy's favourite foods from the taste of his cum." He could hear some movement behind him as though Potter were trying to deal with something happening to him. Snape didn't bother to check. "The balls are also very good. Just the right size to slip easily into one's mouth."
Malfoy wriggled as his cock hardened.
"And the scent of them. Have you noticed how much smell plays a part in sex as yet, Mr. Potter? Especially for men." He leaned over and sniffed the air near Malfoy's now erect cock. His voice deepened, even to his own ears. "The primal part of our brains, I suppose. And the visual is so important for us as well. See how Mr. Malfoy's balls contrast dark against the paleness of his thighs? All that...luscious...delicate paleness. Malfoys don't tan much, have you noticed that, Mr. Potter? Mind, if they did, we couldn't be treated to this delightful blush."
Malfoy moaned and Potter made a stranglely sound.
And Snape suddenly found it necessary to pour himself a glass of water to deal with the dryness of his throat.
Go To Part 2
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