"So," said Draco, rather quietly, "It's not just the Black side that has links to Old Magic."

"No. Most families which go back far enough have their fair share. It's just that they prefer not to acknowledge it."

Draco was silent a minute longer. Neither Snape nor Harry did or said anything to distract him from his thoughts. He looked up at both of them and smiled that little half-smile which made him look more than a little cocky. "Well, let's just see how strong those links are, shall we?"

Snape and Harry exchanged inquiring looks as Draco rose to his feet. Since that first morning when they'd been given back their clothes, Draco had preferred to go without once the day's lessons were over. Harry, not wanting to feel left out yet again, had joined him in this habit. Besides, it made their evening games easier to begin.

Draco now went to stand in the middle of the aisleway, raising his out- stretched hands to shoulder level. He bowed his head, his tone respectful. "Màthair-Tolamh, toilich: mùth lainnir."(1)

At first nothing happened. Draco just stood there, head bowed, arms out- stretched.

Snape chewed his lower lip. This was going into territory even his grandfather hadn't felt confident exploring. He was about to say something when Harry gasped.

The paleness of Draco's skin began changing. It was growing greyer, rougher. As he raised his head, eyes closed, his face started shifting in form.

Harry rose to his feet, smart enough to remain silent as he approached Snape who was also on his feet. Standing side by side, they watched in awed silence as the form they knew to be Draco changed.

As his head, back and outer arms grew dark blue-grey feathers; as his belly, legs and under arms grew white flecked with short black horizontal stripes. As his feet clawed into talons that could kill with ease. His face was mainly eyes, black eyes ringed with yellow that made them seem all that much larger. And his nose and mouth had morphed into a hooked beak that could tear flesh from bone.

He turned, awkward on his new feet, to face them, his winged arms folding against his body. And though the peregrine that he had become was nowhere near his height, it was huge for its kind, almost a metre tall.

"Bloody hell!" whispered Harry.

Snape nodded in agreement but said nothing.

With a cock of its head, the falcon stretched out its wings and, with a heavy downward beat, rose into the air. Clumsily at first, as though Draco was finding his balance in this new form, but then, with more confidence, the bird circled the Chamber, rising and dipping as much as it could within the confines of the space available.

"Holy shit!" gasped Harry as his eyes, wide-open, followed the bird around the room.

Snape swallowed hard. "Yes, well, let us hope that Mother Earth has indicated to him how to go about changing back."

Harry pulled his eyes away from the bird that was attempting to settle – with some difficulty – on the giant head. "Don't you know how?"

Snape shook his head. "Human transfiguration isn't my field even now." He went up to the head and looked up at the falcon which was preening itself. "Draco. Come down now."

The bird ignored him, continuing to groom, its beak rummaging among the feathers of a wing. In fact, a long feather fluttered its way slowly down to where Harry had joined Snape. He grabbed it as it approached, examining it while Snape took a step back.

"Draco! Listen to me. Come down now and change back."

The bird seemed to catch sight of him this time. Harry wondered if the bond they shared would be strong enough to get through to Draco in this form.

"Do you think he can understand human speech?"

Snape shrugged slightly. "That is to be discovered. I am under the impression that animagi can, but I don't know if this transfiguration can be classified as such. Minerva might know, if we have to resort to approaching her on this." Then he grimaced. "Damn, I hope we don't have to."

The falcon finally seemed to be pleased with its looks. It stretched out its wings and slowly glided to the floor where it tried to land though it was rather unstable on the hard, flat surface. Flustered, it took off again.

Harry grabbed his robe and wrapped it around his upper arm before offering it up as a possible perch. "Here. Draco! Land here!"

The peregrine circled around twice as though trying to determine its reliability. Decision made, wings fluttering gently, talons spread out, it hovered then landed a little unsteadily on Harry's arm.

The weight caused Harry to stagger a moment until he found his footing. The large wings folded and the sharp beak reached over and pulled at Harry's hair.

"You're welcome," huffed Harry. "I think."

"Draco," Snape was at his most professorial, "if you can understand me, try and change back."

The falcon stared at him, unblinking. Snape only glared back. The bird turned to look at Harry who had propped up his arm with his other hand for extra support. It cocked its head to a side as though considering.

"Be nice to have you back, Draco," offered Harry, a bit of a grin on his face. "Even if you are a Slytherin."

The bird blinked, raised its head and, with a small rough caw that reminded Harry of a Slytherin snort of disdain, it shut its eyes and tilted its head back.

The two humans waited, barely breathing for fear of disturbing the bird.

After several gut-wrenching minutes, the feathers began disappearing with pale skin reappearing. Harry dropped to his knees and the talon-feet released him. He went to stand by Snape as they watched Draco return to them.

When Draco opened his eyes, the falcon's black eyes looked out at them but, in a blink, faded to grey. The Slytherin dropped limply to his knees and shook his head. "Buidheach, Màthair-Tolamh, buidheach. Thank you."

He sat back on his heels and looked up at the two others. "Well," he said, with a breathless nonchalance belying an ashen face suddenly strained with exhaustion, "that was different."

Harry propped himself up on an elbow and checked to see that Draco was still soundly sleeping. So soundly, in fact, that he was not even snoring. Harry leaned over to verify that he was indeed breathing and smiled with a small acknowledged sense of relief: with help, Draco had barely been able to stagger over to the bed before dropping into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Changing one's self into a peregrine falcon and back again into a man was tiring work, even if one did have help from Mother Earth.

Harry tucked the covers a little around his fellow bondsman before slipping out of the bed. Squinting, he made out the paleness that was Snape's shirt and quietly headed towards it. With a sigh, he settled on the ground, by the silent man's legs, and waited to be recognized. Snape had not joined them in bed: he had been brooding away in his chair since the lights had dimmed. The only present source of illumination in the Chamber was the flickering fire in the mouth of the giant Salazar head.

When he finally realised that Snape was not going to be the one to break the silence, Harry leaned against Snape's legs and dropped his chin on the man's knees. In the faint light, he couldn't make out the expression on Snape's face though he had no trouble imaging one.

"Not what you thought would happen. Any of this. Is it?"

After a moment or two, Snape's white-clad shoulders shrugged.

Harry waited but nothing else was forthcoming. He wondered if Snape was sorry or even worried about the propriety of releasing powers no longer popular.

"Draco doesn't seem to be worse off for his experience. Just tired."

Not even a shrug this time. Harry sighed mentally. Maybe a different angle of attack was needed to penetrate Snape's mood. He propped his arm on those boney knees and then his chin on his arm.

"So, am I what you call sub?"

Not exactly a response. More of a stillness.

"I mean, after all this time refusing to face the fact that I'm queer, does it turn out that I'm a sub as well?"

Snape shifted in his chair. Not much, but enough for Harry to understand that he had the man's attention.

"What makes you think that you're a sub, Harry?" Said very quietly with no real inflection.

It was Harry's turn to shrug. "Well, I seem to have a tendency to follow rather than lead. And to wait to participate until I'm directed to."

"Is that what you think being a sub entails?"

Harry thought a moment. "I think that's part of it. At least from the stuff I've read in those magazines the Twins send Ron. That and a liking for being tied up and beaten and..."

"You don't like being beaten." Snape's voice was more his usual self's.

"Maybe I could grow to like it?"

Snape leaned over so that the light caught his face. "I sincerely hope not." His hand captured Harry's chin and held it firm. "Draco does not like being beaten. He likes being spanked. I realise that the difference may be a little subtle for one with your experience, but it does exist. I am fairly confident that should I, or someone else, ever try to beat Draco Mal...Draco Black, Draco would not hesitate to defend himself. Just as I am certain that his need for the occasional spanking session has more to do with the need to release some internal pressure of his own making than...than..."

"Than the kind of orgasm it produces."

Snape's smile was not all that reassuring. "It is the release of that internal pressure that produces the orgasm: it is not just a physical coming." He let go of Harry's chin and sat back again. "As to your being a sub, I think it has less to do with that than with your being new to all this. Draco knew and accepted his sexuality a long time ago. He's more comfortable with the knowledge, though I'm certain, should you care to ask him, he would tell you that the feelings you are working through right now are familiar to him."

Harry said nothing but kept his eyes on the blur that was Snape's face. After some moments, he ventured, "So the fact that I'm not taking the lead in any of this..."

"You're probably just watching and learning, Harry."

"Biding my time, you mean?"

Snape chortled quietly. "I wouldn't be surprised. Especially since it turns out you're full of surprises."

"Like this?" Harry slipped his hand up the inside of Snape's trouser leg, his hand skimming the skin up to the knee where the tightness of the material prevented him from going further.

Snape blinked and wondered why he had ever thought he was running this show.

Oh, he'd been the one responsible for bringing the boys... Hell, they had been boys only...what was it? Eight, nine days ago? Now they had both crossed over the line between boyhood and manhood.

Maybe that had been his mistake, thinking that they would remain boys, the irritating, trouble-making brats he had to deal with in the hallways of Hogwarts as well as in his classroom.

This whole thing had been a mistake.

He didn't understand it. His natural reticence, his learnt disdain and distrust of forming relationships of any kind...

Hell, these boys...men... Young men. Yes, that was better. These young, still untried men.

No, he had to be honest if only with himself. They were young but they were not untried. And he had thought himself able to control them. As he himself was by forces outside of his control.

What was it about this place? It was almost as though none of his usual self-established rules and regulations could stand up to it. He'd come here with the thought of using the Chamber to help him isolate the two in order for him to get the message through their thick skulls that there was more at stake in all this than their petty grievances. And he'd done that. It seemed.

But it also seemed that he had forgotten that they were students of his. How else to explain the ease with which he'd engaged in sexual matters with them?

And the fool-hearted daring with which he had not only revealed his familiarity with Old Magic, but his teaching it to them, their easy skill in acquiring it.

All under Dumbledore's very nose.

The old man would have his hide, though Snape had no idea which would bother him more, the sex or Old Magic.

And now Draco had revealed that he had abilities that were more transmogrification than animagus transformation. A small yet important distinction. Transfiguration might truly not be his field, but he knew enough from Minerva's conversations to appreciate the time and effort – and skills – required to master animagus transformation. It didn't happen just like that. Not by a long shot.

And into all this depressing thought, Harry had inserted the need to understand his own sexuality.

Bloody hell! He was a Potions instructor! A Potions Master. Not a sexual one. Damn it all, until they'd come here, he had had to be satisfied with his hand for more years than he cared to recall! When had he become so proficient in sexual matters?

"Like this?"

Harry's hand closed around his upper calf and squeezed slightly before tracking back downward, fingertips burning a path to his ankle.

"Harry." Snape tried for a firm, authoritarian tone but it sounded fairly soft and gasping even to his ears. The bounding ritual should have left him able to resist Harry's purring tones. It should have left him in charge of his brats. Instead...

"I'd like to show you what I've learnt while watching."

And Snape knew that once more the Chamber was in charge. No matter his wishes. Oh, fuck it all to hell, why should he pretend that the Chamber's wishes weren't his as well? For all he knew, Dumbledore would kill him once he found out what had been happening here. Might as well enjoy the last few days he had.

"Accio pallet."

With a sigh, Snape allowed himself to be tugged gently onto the pallet that had obeyed Harry's summons.

Harry lay his body so that it only partially rested on Snape. Who seemed to be solely interested in the wavering reflections of the flame-light on the ceiling.

He smiled. So Snape was just going to lie there, was he? Offering himself up as sacrifice to Harry's curiosity about his sexuality. Well, Harry didn't mind if Snape didn't. In fact, it might answer a few questions that he had about himself that he hadn't dared face even in his thoughts.

And there were questions about Snape that he wouldn't mind having answered at the same time.

Like why was it that the man, who was no more handsome than he had ever been, made him drool?

Harry leaned over to examine the face that hid its thoughts so very well.

Yes – passing a fingertip lightly over it – there was that blade of a hooked nose. Looking more like a plough that could cut through the densest of hard ground than an implement with which to breathe. Not just hooked but obviously broken often enough for the bridge to be slightly flattened.

And the mouth. A slash. Out of which came words that cut the breath and scarred the soul. Lips thin yet still able to curl with a disdain that made one shiver. And not with sexual anticipation.

Harry's fingertip traced the slash back and forth until the lips separated and a hint of tongue made itself seen.

A tongue that had lashed out at Neville until he'd refused to go anywhere near it. Mind, Neville was doing far better in Herbology than he could ever have done in Potions. And plants responded to him in a manner far more amicable than any potion ever did. Pity that Neville had had to wait until after O.W.L.s to be permitted to drop Snape's class.

Pity Snape had had to endure him and his dangerous failures for that many years as well.

Harry slipped his finger into Snape's mouth and traced the teeth.

Hermione's parents would have loved to deal with those teeth. If only for the pleasure of straightening them. All in a row. A lovely, white picket- fence type row.

Funny how Snape had never dealt with the way his teeth filled his mouth. Hell, Hermione had dealt with the size of hers long ago. Maybe it has hard to care when... When what? No one else cared? When they were knocked out of him as a child? When...

Harry lowered his mouth and skimmed the dry lips with his own once or twice. Raising just enough so that his tongue had space to wet his, it also ‘accidentally' wet Snape's, making the next easier. He slipped his tongue into Snape's mouth and took his time mapping out the irregular shapes and forms.

And tasting.

Snape tasted...sharp. Not unpleasant, but certainly distinctive. His own flavour, so to speak. Harry knew he would recognise it till the day he died. As he would Draco's. As, he suddenly realised, they would his.

He pulled back just enough so that his lips could trace a path to the point where jaw met ear and slowly nibbled his way along the roughened line to the other ear. He had to use his nose to brush away the hair that was in the way of his destination.

He paused, taking a moment to bury his face in the silken strands. That was different. Not the greasy, limp tresses of Above, but soft, clean-smelling. Brilliantly black in the flickering darkness. But then there had been no potions to prepare. Harry remembered hearing that, depending on how much use had been made of Madam Pomfrey's supplies, Snape spent most of his holiday time, when not correcting work left over from term, restocking the cupboards of the Infirmary.

Harry smiled. He had a good idea of what the sixth and seventh years would be working on this year once classes began again.

He propped his chin on Snape's breastbone and chuckled. "Having fun just lying there?"

The thin lips tightened slightly in the hint of a smile that Harry was learning was Snape indicating enjoyment. "Hard to demonstrate what knowledge you've acquired if I don't let you."

Harry's own smile grew. "So decent of you."

The eyes finally left their inspection of the ceiling and crossed a little as they tried to focus on Harry. "Isn't it though?"

Harry dug his hands into the silken mass of hair and lightly gripped the head. "Let me know what you think of this, would you?"

He'd learnt a lot about kissing since he'd wakened here in the Chamber, so he set out to prove what he'd mastered. It must have been well worth a pass as, when Harry finally released Snape's mouth, it took Snape several minutes for his breathing to come under control.

"That..." Snape's voice was too rough to continue. Harry felt rather pleased with himself that Snape had to clear his throat before he managed to rasp out, "That was very efficiently done on your part."

Harry grinned. "I had only the best of teachers. But..." He stopped there until the eyes opened and he had their attention. "But," he took up, "all that may be a fluke, you understand. So, I had better continue, don't you agree?"

Snape swallowed noticeably. "By all means."

Snape lay there and took it.

He had to grip the sides of the pallet to keep from reaching out to touch, but he did nothing to interfere with Harry's pleasure...which was so intimately entwined with his own.

Dear Merlin! The brat had been paying attention!

How else did he know about that soft spot just under his ear? Or the one under his chin? Or the spot where his neck joined onto his shoulders?

Snape wriggled a little, as if trying to make himself more comfortable: in truth, trying to release some of the pressure on his cock as it tried to work its way under his trousers.

Hands worked at the buttons of his shirt, slowly, one at a time, as though each were a Gordian's knot that had to be solved before moving on to the next. And as each was, that mouth reduced him to sensation. The lips caressed each new patch of skin so revealed with an intensity of purpose that drove him crazy. Then, just as he was about to scream with frustration, that bloody tongue would come into play and soothe and calm the hypersensitised nerves. Except he felt as though he were being tasted, as if every nuance of flavour in his skin was noted, classified and preserved in memory. Now and then, he felt the gentle nibble or a light graze of teeth that only added a new sensation to those which threatened to overwhelm him.

Then another button would be opened and... Oh, Merlin! Then it would begin all over again! He would never again accuse Harry of not paying proper attention to his work. If he lived to survive the experience.

By the time Harry had worked all the buttons of his shirt free, Snape's cock was demanding the same kind of touch. Like that would happen any time soon! Not if he'd read that look of accomplishment on the brat's face.

A look that he had put there!

He felt almost as victorious as Harry so obviously did.

Mind, when Harry used his hair and slightly roughened cheeks to reawaken all those sensations in his now bared chest, Snape wondered how much more he could take before surrendering.

Especially since Harry seemed so taken with his nipples. Oh, shit! Did he have to do that? Surely one nipple was different enough from the other so that they both required the same attention?

And it didn't help his situation at all when Harry moved his leg over Snape's groin, accidentally...

Fuck!

The brat knew exactly what he was doing! His knee was pressing ever so gently – yet consistently! – against Snape's clothed cock!

Snape wondered if the sound of ripping he heard was his cock bursting through his trouser placket. Or was it the pallet tearing under his attempts to remain as he had promised Harry?

"You know," murmured Harry, "I think I really like this nipple." And he flicked its ring with the tip of a finger.

Snape thought the only thing holding him onto the pallet was the grip he had on it. Surely his chest had certainly levitated there for an instance, even with Harry's weight on it. His only consolation was the thought that maybe Harry had sounded a bit breathless when he'd made his comment.

"I wonder if I might like the other one as well?"

Snape decided the question was rhetorical and saved his breath for the matter at hand. A good thing as Harry had trouble making up his mind which nipple pleased him the most so that he had to return to the first and then back to the second before announcing, over the sound of the blood pounding in Snape's ears, "The second has a lot going for it as well, you know."

Snape gasped, remembering there was a reason he hated Gryffindors. "If...if I...m...might...sug...gest?"

Harry propped his chin on Snape's chest while his fingers took up a teasing play, stroking, rubbing, even pinching and pulling on the nubs of flesh that made it hard for Snape to finish his thought.

"Yes?" Harry licked a small stream of sweat from the line of Snape's throat.

Snape gulped a few times, forcing air into his gasping lungs. "There...is...another part...of my a...na...tomy that would...ap...pre...ciate such...atten...tion."

Harry had the audacity to "Tsk." The pinches were sharper, almost painful. Snape's cock only got harder under the additional pressure from Harry's knee.

"No," his voice was really quite firm. "I think not. Not right now, at least. There is still so much more of you to explore, Severus. I wouldn't want to miss anything."

Snape barely managed to raise his head to glare at him.

Harry's responding smile was positively evil.

Harry had the most overwhelming urge to giggle.

Here he was, naked as the day he'd been born, slowly undressing his much hated Potions instructor, and getting off on it like nothing else in his short sexual career.

He knew that if Snape wanted, all it would take was a word, maybe two, and Harry would be the one flat on his back, taking it. That thought was what had stopped the giggle from getting out.

The fact that Severus Snape was still allowing him to do this to him... He leaned over and placed a thankful kiss on those lips that were tight with frustration. He understood, for a moment, how Draco must feel, handing over his trust to this man, to do for him whatever it was he needed to deal with matters. Right now, Harry felt that there was nothing he couldn't do, nothing he couldn't accomplish.

He let his lips slowly work their way down Snape's left arm as he gradually revealed inch after inch of pale skin. Snape raised his shoulder when the material bunched, allowing it to slip so that Harry didn't have to deal with the distraction.

But there was a distraction. Under his lips, he felt the skin rough yet it was smooth and unblemished to his eye.

And that's when it struck him: he hadn't seen the Dark Mark once since they'd been down here.

He passed his lips and tongue over the area once more. Yes, he could feel where the skin lost its smoothness but...

He raised his head.

Snape had taken the time of Harry's change of focus to regain control of his breathing. Probably after all the attention Harry had spent on those tantalising nubs, his new field of attack was less sensitive and therefore Snape was recouping.

He waited until those black eyes turned to him.

"Is the glamour only on the Dark Mark?"

A stab in the dark, but one that hit target, judging from Snape's sudden stillness.

Their eyes held until Snape's, much to Harry's surprise, dropped first.

"Yes."

"Remove it."

Snape's eyes snapped up. Harry met them with as much authority as he could produce. The battle between them was less than a couple of breaths. Snape opened his mouth, to protest Harry was certain. "Do it." He kept his voice calm yet firm.

Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Pulchritudo liberat," he murmured.

The illusion wavered and then faded away.

Harry looked at the Dark Mark and wondered how Snape could have endured something so ugly to be branded into his skin. "Did it hurt?"

He had to wait while Snape decided whether to answer him or not.

"Yes."

Harry nodded. Yes, of course it had. Voldemort wasn't into symbols without pain. He examined it more closely. He'd never before been this near to the Mark. He found that he hated, viscerally, the snake weaving through the skull.

"How much of it do my father and his friends bear responsibility for?"

Snape's eyes opened though it took some moments before they moved to him. "Maybe a square inch."

Harry scoffed.

"No, Harry. I mean it. There were a great many reasons for my decision to accept the Mark. Yes, some of them had to do with the way I was treated, but if...if someone had stepped in..." He sighed, his face no longer flushed with arousal. Harry could even feel the hardness under his knee soften. "There were still far too many other reasons that I thought valid at the time."

"How old were you?" Harry allowed his fingertips to pass back and forth over the ugliness.

"When I took it? Your age. Just after NEWTs were done." Snape levered himself up onto the other elbow and examined the Mark on his skin. "I told myself I had taken a well-thought-out decision. I had no money other than a few Galleons left from my grandfather's small legacy. I had no strong family ties to anyone who might have helped me find a decent apprenticeship with some Potions Master. The Snape name was of no great advantage. My personality was such that I already had a reputation of being hard to work with. I suppose I could have found someone in Knockturn Alley to take me on." He shrugged.

"Why didn't Dumbledore..." Harry winced at the coldness of the look that harshened Snape's face.

"Why indeed?" His tone was equally harsh. "Who knows? My best guess was that I was not Gryffindor. He was known to have placed many in a similar situation to mine in the past, from all Houses save Slytherin."

"Do you?"

Snape blinked, coming back from wherever it was he had been. "Do I what?"

"Place Slytherins who are in a similar situation?" Snape looked down at the Mark. "If they come to me. If they have not already bound themselves to the Dark Lord. There are some..." He stopped there, lost again in another world.

Harry gave him a moment, then nudged, "There are some?"

Snape shrugged. "There have been a few that I have been able to ease away from that path. But not with the level of success that I would have liked."

Harry sighed. Looked like his curiosity had killed the moment. He passed his hand again over the Mark. "Still, you spy for us."

Snape had barely breathed when Harry had touched him again. Now he took a sharp inhale. "Well, someone has to."

Harry fought the smile that wanted out. Snape had sounded like his Above self there, with his snideness well entrenched.

Without thinking, Harry dropped his mouth to the Dark Mark and kissed it. He felt rather than saw Snape's flinch.

"I've always known when he's summoned you." Harry looked up, from under the fringe of hair that had flopped its way into his eyes. "My scar knows."

Snape raised an eyebrow then nodded slowly.

"It doesn't exactly hurt. It keeps that for when he's near or up to something. But it's tender. It stays that way until you come back."

"Must be the call of the summons that you feel," Snape sounded almost apologetic. "The Mark throbs even when I respond to it. It's only when he releases us that it stops."

Harry sighed. "Do you think, once he's truly gone, both our marks will leave us?"

Snape shook his head. "I have no idea, Harry. I'm sorry."

Harry found it possible to grin. "Well, I suppose it would be too good to expect that all signs of him disappear."

"Maybe that's a good thing," offered Snape. "It might help to remind us."

"I think I've broken the mood," Harry said, as though surprised.

Snape said nothing.

"Maybe," Harry said, as he pushed Snape back down onto the pallet, "I should give it another try."

Snape gasped as Harry rubbed himself along his body. His skin, nipples and cock were more than willing to remember certain sensations. It didn't take much of Harry attentiveness to re-awaken Snape's cock and his sense of frustration.

Though he also noticed that Harry bypassed both arms as he made his way to the waistband of his trousers.

"Well, whatever do we have here?"

Why the hell was the brat so surprised at what he'd found? Hadn't he been working on getting him hard again...

Oh, sh...it!

Even to his own ears, his moan was loud. But, hell, the boy had gabbed hold of his cock through his trousers and had dropped his mouth, open and blowing hot, onto the damn thing.

Snape released the sides of the pallet and reached for that mop of hair at his groin.

"No. Uh-huh." Harry pulled himself up and away.

Snape growled.

"No, Severus. Hands back where they were or that's the end of it."

Snape gritted his teeth but let go the hair. "I don't think you have much to worry about being a sub. Brat."

Harry grinned. "Then how about you can't come until I tell you you can?"

Snape swallowed. He let his hands drop to the sides and his head back onto the pallet. "Is this when you get revenge for every detention I've given you?"

Harry considered that before answering. "No, I think I would prefer something else to compensate for all that time I spent scrubbing out cauldrons and preparing disgusting ingredients. No, this is just because this is how I want it to be."

And how he wanted it to be was slow. So slow that Snape wondered how Draco could continue sleeping through all the noise some idiot was making.

That the idiot was himself made matters all that more surreal. Yes, he did occasionally scream and curse the way he was right now, but usually that was when Voldemort was displeased with him. One great difference between his masters was that his Dark Lord liked to hear the effects of his disciplining whereas his Light Lord preferred him to accept his ‘blows' silently.

By the time Harry decided to strip the trousers off him, he had no need to ask Snape to raise his hips: they'd been off the pallet for what seemed to be hours.

And even then the little bastard didn't allowed him to come. Instead he decided to taste the skin on his thighs, nuzzle his bush, even – daringly for Harry – slip an oiled finger, then fingers, up his arse. Not once did he do more than blow the occasional light stream of air on the part of himself that was weeping for the kind of attention Harry had paid to it while behind a barrier of wool.

He could hear that fool idiot begging, a litany of Pleases, and Oh-hell-Harrys, and Nows, until he couldn't make out the words, only hear the begging tone and wondered why the hell his body didn't feel like his.

And then, finally! Mercy of mercies!

Something hot and wet and wicked dropped on the centre of his universe at the same time as another something grabbed his balls and held on tight so tight that he would have screamed if the frustration and disappointment hadn't outweighed the pain and that bloody snake-like tongue hadn't taken the last of his attention away from his focus just as fingers in him rubbed at the exactly the right spot and...

And his world exploded.

Snape woke slowly.

It's what finally woke him up, that slowness. He usually woke quickly, not this warm, appealing coasting through a sense of...of all was right in his world.

It wasn't. This couldn't be other than a dream. But it was such a nice dream that he didn't fight it until he realised that was also not normal for him.

And then there was the scent. Of strong coffee just as he liked it. Not an aroma that he associated with bed and sleep.

He forced his eyelids up and saw nothing but the canopy that draped the top of his bed. Well, that wasn't any different than his usual morning view. But the allure of the coffee was still present and, when he turned his head, he saw why. There was a mug of it hovering just within hand's reach.

Snape pushed himself into a semi-upright position and reached for the mug. He couldn't prevent the closing of his eyes and the sigh of bliss as the beverage filled his mouth with its flavour, slipped with ease down his throat and warmed his most inner self as it did his stomach.

A snicker caught his attention and he opened his eyes once more.

Now that was not something he saw every day.

Draco Black was sitting propped up against the footboard of his bed, naked, playing with the feather that had, for some avian reason, displeased his falcon self. Grinning as only a Malfoy who was now a Black could. Obviously the snicker had come from him.

Snape took another mouthful of the brew that he had once thought of as the only reason for getting up in the morning.

Harry Potter, sitting next to Draco, equally naked, was juggling a small flame from one finger to another, from one hand to the other, a smile of extreme satisfaction on his face.

"So," said Draco, breaking the silence, "do I make a beautiful falcon?"

Now Harry snickered, rolling his eyes. "Just gorgeous, Draco." He grinned at Snape, inviting him to share in the fun. "Mind, I wouldn't want to be around you in molting season. Heaven knows, Hedwig is bad enough."

Draco passed the long plume between two fingers, watching it with a half- smile on his face. "I'd still be prettier than her."

Snape took another gulp of coffee, still in a wonder at the new relationship between his brats. Days ago, after Harry's comment, they'd have been at each other's throat.

"So," said Harry, suddenly all business, "what's on the agenda for today?"

Snape hid his smile behind his mug. One night of topping and his Gryffindor brat seemed to have gotten in touch with his dominant side.

"Breakfast," said Snape, "then get dressed. Complete with boots. And see if you can change these bedclothes into winter cloaks."

His brats exchanged looks of astonishment.

Snape finished the coffee. "It's time to see what else Salazar got up to."

It took some time. Snape eventually had to turn to Old Magic but, with its help, he found what he had been looking for.

"A secret door? How did you know?" Draco went up to the item in question and looked at it. "Where does it go?"

Snape picked up one of the winter cloaks and indicated that his brats should as well. He slipped his wand into his hand and ordered, "Luminas!" The two lit theirs.

Hand on the door, Snape turned to his brats. "If Salazar used the Chamber as a secret meeting place, it stood to reason that there was a secret entrance. And a secret way of getting in and out. Let us see where this takes us, shall we?"

And a door that probably hadn't been opened in centuries did, and gave way to a tunnel that was darker than night. The way was cold but dry, the air heavy with time, and the only sounds they could hear were those of their breathing and their footsteps as they made their way through it.

It was tall enough that Snape didn't have to duck but, in places, the top of his head did touch the ceiling. There was nothing in the tunnel, no signs of animals, surprisingly none of rodents. Not even cobwebs. The stillness was almost overwhelming and Snape wondered what spells Salazar Slytherin had placed on his tunnel. So far there had been no traps, no surprises. Had Salazar been so confident of the secrecy of the tunnel that he had felt no need for additional security? Mind, no one had discovered it in any recent history if the level of dust their careful steps was awakening was any sign.

By his watch they had been walking close to forty minutes when the tunnel suddenly came to an end. They were at some steps, roughly hewed in what seemed to be the base of a large boulder. Those stopped about half-way, going nowhere.

Snape looked at them, trying to decide what spell Salazar would have used to camouflage the entrance. A thought flashed through his mind and he grabbed onto it. It was just off enough to be something a Slytherin would do and here they were dealing with the most Slytherin of Slytherins.

Snape kept his voice low, as though not wanting to disturb the very air. "Harry."

Harry silently moved to his side.

"In Parseltongue, tell the entrance way that you want it to reveal itself and to open."

Harry nodded and went up the few steps to the small landing. Draco stood by Snape, holding up his lighted wand as if that might help Harry. They could only hear sibilant sounds. Snape felt Draco shudder slightly and knew that it was not just from the chill that had penetrated their cloaks and clothing as they had come through the tunnel.

The side of the boulder facing them slowly wavered and, yes, there was indeed an opening. Harry stepped through first, keeping a hand on the boulder until the two others came through.

"Place your hands as near to mine as you can, on the stone itself."

Snape then Draco obeyed, their hands touching Harry's which was in the middle. Harry hissed another few words and the stone under their hands warmed. "Remember us and open to us. Obey as we speak to you now."

For a moment, the stone grew hot then it cooled as rapidly as it had heated. The entrance way was once more solid rock as Harry let out a breath. "Well, that should work."

Draco directed a small bow at Harry, in recognition of his powers, before stepping away to look around the area. "Where is this? Anybody know?"

Snape held his wand up high as he walked around, looking up at the dense, dark canopy of thick branches and leaves, so thick that the sun could not penetrate. He sniffed, scrubbed at the ground with a boot, then nodded. "The Forbidden Forest. Where exactly I don't know, but we are still within the anti-apparation wards." He spoke once more to his wand. "Septentriones indicas!"

The wand moved, pointing in a direction. "Well, that's north and that's where we want to go. I suggest that you hold all questions until we arrive at our destination. And be most especially quiet while we're still in the Forest. I would prefer that we not attract any kind of attention."

As they wound their way out of the Forest, Snape would touch every few trees with the tip of his wand. A short slash of light appeared on the bark, then Snape waited the second or so it took to disappear before moving on.

It took far less time than he had thought to make their way to where the wards faded as the Forest thinned. He smiled at his brats, knowing where he was. "Make note," he told them, still very quietly, "of the rock formation that you see in the distance. And of the small cove to the other side. It will be safe to apparate from this point and to return to it."

Draco, he noticed, also looked above, at the sky and the sun while Harry scanned the land as a means of marking the location in their minds.

With a few words, softly spoken, Snape cast a spell of identification so that they would all know the co-ordinates for returning. Draco and Harry both followed his example, making their identifications of the spot unique to them. If they all three needed to apparate here at exactly the same moment, they would not do so one within the other.

"Well, gentlemen," Snape said, looking very professorial, "let's see just how good you are at apparating. The co-ordinates are 18 degrees West and 62 degrees North. The island is small and uninhabited, so don't miss it."

Draco grinned and nodded. With the small distinctive apparation ‘pouf', he was gone.

Harry looked at Snape, smiling at the implicit challenge, then he, too, apparated.

Snape sighed. Who knew if what he was doing was wise? Hell, up till now, nothing had turned out to be as he'd thought. He shrugged and went to see if his brats had landed at the right place.

The island, as Snape had foretold, was not large: barely a kilometre long and a third of that wide. There were rock formations that provided shelter but nothing of plant life. Both his brats were waiting for him when he apparated.

"Where are we?" Harry crouched against one of the large boulders that populated the island, to get out of the wind that was blowing sharply across the point.

"Near Iceland," said Snape, wrapping the cloak more closely around himself. "Well, that's the closest land to here."

Draco looked around, first checking out the lay of the land, then that of the sky. His hair was blowing about, his cloak billowing out behind him. "What the fuck are we doing here?" He turned to face Snape. "Does the wind ever stop?"

Snape grinned. "If you don't like the wind, get Her to do what you want."

Harry slowly stood up. Draco stared almost incredulously at Snape, who shrugged.

"This is where my grandfather brought me to test my abilities in Old Magic. We are not close to any point from where our actions can be monitored. This island, such as it is, is too small to have been charted. We are not in a Muggle shipping lane so we are safe from their notice. And, as you can probably guess, storms are not unknown here." He gestured around him. "You have a fair chunk of sea open to you both. See what you can do with it."

Harry looked at Draco whose mouth slowly dropped open. They both walked to the edge of the point, where the rocks, out of the sea, rose sheer and high, against which the rushing grey waves crashed.

Harry shouted over his shoulder, "Do we have to remove our boots?"

Snape was pulling some small, flat rocks together near the boulder, to form the ring for a fire. He looked up and shook his head. "I never did. Besides, it's too cold."

Even from where he was he could feel the energy bursting from his brats. He paused in his work to watch as they both asked Mother Earth for Her blessing before they courted Sister Wind.

"Don't forget Bràthair-Uisage, Brother Water. And wait before you begin."

While they did, Snape withdrew a clear bottle filled with a viscous liquid. He carefully unstoppered the container then placed it in the middle of the ring that he had made. With a flick of his wand, a flame appeared. Snape sat on a near-by stone and drew several arcs of wards around himself and the flame.

"There." He had to raise his voice and pitch it so they could hear. "When you need to dry off, come close. Be careful not to fall into the sea: at this time of the year, it is more deadly than ever. Now begin. Show me if you paid any attention to the warnings I gave you about playing with the full power of the Elements."

To his surprise, they had. But then they were far older than he had been when his grandfather had first brought him here to this desolate part of the Northern Atlantic.

They began small. Draco asked Sister Wind to detour around the island and She did. Harry tentatively approached Brother Water and asked Him, ever so politely, not to spray them as He crashed against the rocks. The spray diminished.

Snape nodded, approvingly. Small matters, nothing that took control of their realms away from the Elements. He took a moment to transfigure the rocks into something softer then sat back and watched, ready to offer suggestions or corrections were they needed.

Draco slowly whipped up the wind until he had created a small tornado of air skipping over the waves. Harry countered that with a slightly larger waterspout. Draco directed the tornado over to the waterspout and the duel of Elements began.

Snape said nothing. Even over the sounds he could hear their laughter as first the tornado seemed to be winning, then the spout. Neither was particular large, only some ten or twelve feet in height, but even those required a fair amount of magical control. Snape wondered how long before one of them would try to see just how high he could grow his ‘dueling toy'. Then it would be a real test of their measure to keep the situation from getting out of hand.

Harry had the sense to stop when his spout was some fifty feet high. With thanks and a bow, he released the water so that it crashed down onto the sea with a whomp that made Snape wince, even behind his secure barrier.

Draco moved his tornado off to the side and slowly increased its height until even Harry looked nervous. Especially when it began sucking water up. Snape stood up and shouted, "Be careful, Draco. Two Elements are more than doubly draining."

For a moment, he thought Draco wasn't listening, but then the water poured out of the tunnel and back into the sea, the wind gradually rotated less fast and, finally, there was only the wind as it had been when they'd arrived.

Wet to the skin, his brats approached the fire, holding their hands to it for warmth. Snape doubted that their spirits needed any kind of warming: both sets of eyes were gleaming as only a sense of victory over forces so long ignored could bring.

Knowing the elation they were feeling – he'd been there once himself – but also knowing that they had as yet not felt the cost to their playing, he watched as they removed their cloaks and draped them so they would dry on the boulder that had absorbed the heat of the flame. He listened to their excited chatter as he pulled food and drink from the pockets of his robes. He had to insist that they eat and drink, but he didn't stop them from going back to their play after they had.

Spelling his cloak against the wet, Snape joined them at the point, occasionally making a suggestion as to the next game to play, pointing out a modification, demonstrating something that he hadn't before taught them. He made them exchange Elements so that one did not develop skills pertaining only to his favourite Element.

And then, when he knew that they were so high as to be able to apparate back without realising just how exhausted they were, he brought the day's lessons to an end with the promise of a return the following day.

By the time they'd found their way back to the Chamber, his brats barely had the energy to place one foot in front of the other. Snape had to spell their clothing off them after they'd dropped onto the bed, asleep before their heads hit the mattress.

He transfigured their cloaks back into bedclothes and tucked his brats in. Then, after a solitary supper, Snape joined them, wondering at the fact that he was finally going to have spent twenty-four hours without sex.

He laughed to himself as he listened to the duet of soft snores at his side. Only ten days earlier, he'd bemoaned the fact that his hand was his best lover and, now, he was almost relieved not to have to think about sex.

As he fell asleep, he sensed Draco, who was next to him, shift and snuggle close to him. With a sigh of acceptance, Snape draped an arm over the boy, allowing his hand to rest on Harry's shoulder.

They went back to the island the next day.

Snape used the time there to instruct them in ways of sharing their power so that, together, Harry and Draco were more than doubly strong. Then, at the end of the day, at their insistence, he added his powers to theirs.

It surprised Snape not a little to discover how well all their powers meshed when joined. Not a common occurrence, as he remembered the trouble his grandfather had had merging his powers with the child Snape had been.

They went back to the Chamber, tired but with enough energy to sup and discuss the doings of the day before falling into bed.

Snape was not very good at sharing what space he had. He knew that about himself. Most especially personal space. But as he thought about it, with both his brats snuggled against him, one to either side, he discovered that he had grown comfortable with their presence in his bed.

He stared at the canopy, knowing, once back Above, this could not continue. What was acceptable here in the Chamber...

Harry murmured unhappily in his sleep and drew Snape's attention. With more tenderness than he had known he had in him, Snape pulled the boy a little closer and rubbed the top of that messy head with his cheek.

"Shhhh. It's all right, Harry."

Harry sighed and nuzzled more snugly against him, eased from whatever dream had been bothering him.

The third day, the island was not at all welcoming. There was a massive thunderstorm that filled the sky as far as the eye could see with an impenetrable blackness, lit every minute or so with a flash of lightning that made them wince as a clap of thunder made them cover their ears. Waves as high as the peak of the tallest Hogwarts tower were crashing against the cliffs, claiming the rocky ground for themselves.

Snape quickly led them to the small haven he had created the first day. His wards had kept it somewhat dry. With a few more rocks and boulders, he expanded it into a small cave-like structure that now afforded them ample protection. He and his brats were out of the rain, sitting on the transformed ‘couch', warming themselves by the fire he had brought with him. The addition of a muting charm managed to deaden the sounds of the storm enough so that they could hear each other speak.

"Wow!" Harry shook his head, unconsciously sending a shower of droplets of water flying about the small space.

Draco nodded his head, the water dripping off his nose and chin making a small pool on the sodden material of his cloak.

Snape passed a hand over his hair, riverlets of water streaming down his back. "I think it is safe to say that the Elements are not in a mood to play today."

"Showing us how it's supposed to be done?" Draco grinned then winced at a violent clap of thunder that made their haven shiver.

Snape quickly shored up his wards with additional charms. If the cave collapsed on them, there would be no one around to dig them out. "We can return to the Chamber," he offered.

"I think," said Harry, raising his voice to be heard over a series of crashes, "I would like to stay a while. We can still apparate back from here at any time, can't we?"

Snape looked at Draco, who nodded. With a shrug, Snape cast a drying spell on all of them.

So they sat together and watched the performance the Elements were putting on for them, or so it seemed. At one point, Harry slipped off the couch to sit cross-legged at Snape's feet, leaning against his legs. Draco took advantage of the extra space to stretch out, his head on Snape's lap.

Snape stopped watching the storm. He looked at Harry and realised that one of the boy's hands was wrapped around Snape's ankle. That he leaned a little more into his legs whenever there was a particularly loud clap of thunder. Draco must have noticed Harry's unease with the storm as one of his hands was resting on Harry's shoulder, lightly rubbing it.

Snape raised his nearer arm and rested it across Draco's back.

At one point, he found himself thinking that if he could, he would stay here as he was – as they were – and never miss going back.

His small snort of derision was lost in the sounds but he sat back and concentrated on remembering this time. One day, should he live, he might want to think back on it to remind himself that there had been a time when, as an adult, he had been actually felt content.

Harry wriggled a little on the hard stone that was his cushion. It would be the matter of a moment's work to transform it into something softer but, somehow, its hardness seemed appropriate to the moment. He had to admit, rather ruefully, that the last couple of days had allowed him to think that he was going to be as powerful a wizard as everyone had told him he'd be. Nice of Mother Earth to remind him that there were powers stronger than he could ever hope of attaining. He understood the storm was Her way of putting him in his place. He smiled. She was certainly as effective as a Potions instructor of his acquaintance.

Harry looked up and found Snape's eyes on him. He smiled and felt warmed when he got another back in return. Not a large smile, but there was something sincere in it. Harry rested his head on Snape's thigh and sighed. He watched the sky brutally bisected with a line of electricity and wondered, with a certain sardonic chuckle, if this could be considered the ‘calm before the storm'?

Because he knew that when the confrontation with Voldemort finally took place, it would rival this in its brutality and in its destructiveness. And in its costs.

Draco let his hand play with Harry's hair as he watched the Stygian darkness absorb the flash of metallic blue. Right now, in the middle of storm that should have terrified him, he felt calm. As if the thunder and lightning and crashing waves were removed and were nothing that could harm him. Like some scenic picture that hung in a hallway of Malfoy Manor.

And he felt warm. Not just from the arm that rested on his shoulders, but from the fact – he was slightly astonished to realise – that he was with people he cared about. Who cared about him.

Who hadn't been assigned to stay with him. Who weren't there because of the Malfoy name and what it represented. Who weren't afraid of his father and what he could do to them.

Who seemed to like him, for him. As he was.

He hadn't really been aware of it, but he had been wearing a mask for...well, since he had been intelligent enough to understand that he had to wear one to protect himself. Since forever, it felt like.

He had let the mask drop with these two.

Draco sighed as he rubbed his cheek back and forth against Severus's thigh. He was pragmatic enough to know that once they were all back in their regular routines, the mask would come up again. But Harry and Severus knew him now. The real him. And they would see beyond the mask.

He smiled to himself.

Funny that he, who trusted no one, trusted that they would.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

The Gaelic used in the Old Magic sequences is an improvisation of my own using English-Gaelic on-line dictionaries. My apologies once more to all Gaelic experts.

(1) Mother Earth, if it be your desire, let me be your falcon.

Go To Part 10

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