In Academia - Part 2

King To Pawn

The vial crashed on the stones; shards of glass scattered. Severus covered his face with one hand as the vial's contents reacted with the floor's moisture and thick, red smoke rose up around him. There was a collective shout, a rush of feet, and a squeal as the door slid shut.

Peter squeaked. "Sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

"I told you not to touch it." Severus covered his wrinkled nose with his sleeve. For once he was glad for the damned things.

Pettigrew's head retracted like a turtle's into the fleshy cave of his shoulders. He mumbled something.

"What happened-" Professor Dram's sour voice broke in a fit of coughing. "What happened here? I expect better of you, Snape! Look," she paused to choke, "look what you've done!"

"It was Pettigrew," he said, muffled by his robe.

"It was, ma'am." Peter's timid voice came through the smoke more clearly than his pointy face. He suddenly started coughing until he gagged.

"Oh, shut up," Snape muttered in his general direction.

"You two," Dram stopped to cough. A hacking noise and the sound of something thick and wet hitting the floor made Severus stiffen. "You two get this cleaned up right now. I'll see you in my office when you've finished."

"Yes, ma'am," Peter squeaked. Snape narrowed his burning eyes.

Only when the door closed again did he snarl, "Stupid cow, doesn't even know how to stop a simple reaction." He pulled out his wand and cast a basic Freezing Charm to halt the output of energy. No energy, no chemical reaction. Smoke still hung thick and bloodlike, but at least there wouldn't be any more.

"Why didn't you do that sooner?" Peter whined.

"I wanted to give her a chance." Severus covered his mouth with his hand and mumbled a quick Sedimentation Spell. The smoke started to settle. "It's no wonder you can't cut a worm in half, what with instructors like that!"

Peter didn't say anything, only hung his head and twiddled his fingers, a fine cloak of crimson silt doing nothing to protect him from Snape's judgment.

"You're pathetic." Severus shook his head and went to fill a bucket from the gargoyle's mouth. "Go find Filch, tell him we need something to clean this up."

Glass snarled beneath Pettigrew's feet as he waddled off. Snape waited for the door to close yet again before he fished a large sponge from a high shelf and dunked it unceremoniously in the water. At the very least, he could get the worst of the mess cleared up before Pettigrew came back to bollocks it up some more. There was no point in trying a cleaning charm; mixed goliath beetle extract and gillyfruit juice had a nasty habit of sticking permanently if hit with a spell once settled.

The water was so cold it was thick. Even before the sodden sponge thwacked the desk, Severus' fingers felt like they were going to crack. He wiped dutifully, though. Great wet swathes cut through the fine red powder and left only a rusty tinge. Severus closed his eyes for a moment. He flexed his numb fingers. It wasn't turning out to be a good day.

His detentions were over, finally. With his luck, though, he'd be stuck with another week, thanks again to Potter's little pack. He was a prefect, goddammit! He'd already proven himself better than the rest of the herd. For some reason, though, Dram still treated him like a plebeian. Sometimes, when she yelled at him, Severus caught a glimpse of something like fear in her eyes. Would serve her right to be afraid. I could have taught any of her classes by third year. And done a better job of it.

He'd just finished getting the affected desks wiped down when the heavy oak door banged open and Peter skidded in, cheeks puffing out with every breath. His flesh wobbled. One plump hand clutched a bottle of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Cleaner. He held it out. "Here."

"Finish the desks. And put up everyone's things or she'll just make us come back and do it. And be careful this time!"

Peter gave Severus a quizzical look. Severus glared back, and cringed slightly as he got to his knees to work on the stone floor. His robe was hitched up, leaving his neat wool trousers to pick up every particle of red the sponge missed. He gave the floor a few good swipes, growled, and yanked the robe over his head. It came to rest in the far corner.

"I don't hear you cleaning, Pettigrew. This is your mess, remember?"

Silence. After a moment, Severus heard a slightly hitched breath, and a low, apologetic murmur. Soon, all that could be heard were the gentle swooshing sounds of wet sponges, and Peter's softly wheezing breath.

The whole time they scrubbed in silence, Snape felt Pettigrew's watery stare on his back. He ignored it. There were more important things to focus on, like getting the damnable red sediment out of the floor's cracks, or the way his stiff hands grew even colder on the stones, or the fact that his mother was going to throw a fit if he ruined a month-old pair of trousers. When he turned around to pick up the Magical Mess Remover, Snape trapped the pitiful blue gaze for an annoyed moment.

It looked away. Not, however, before he got the unsettling feeling that Peter was interested in something other than cleaning. Severus went back to dragging his sponge over the floor, bringing up the last of the stains. Thankfully, the vial was enchanted safety glass, and what could have been a nasty situation was more like kneeling on sand. It dug into his knees, just as Pettigrew's eyes dug into the rest of him as soon as Severus' back was turned.

Class period was over, and lunch halfway through, by the time they'd wiped up the last of the damnable soot. Peter sat like a lump while Snape rinsed out the sponges and bucket. He fidgeted on his stool. "D'you think she's going to keep us until the end of lunch?"

Severus shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. It's not like you couldn't stand to lose a stone or ten."

"It's only baby fat," Pettigrew said. Snape could hear him blushing.

"No, you're a whale. Really, Pettigrew, if you ever decide to become an Animagus, you ought to consider a whale. They're very intelligent, you know. Might give you something besides blubber in that skull of yours." Severus washed his hands as well as he could in the icy water running from the gargoyle's mouth. He dried them, turning to glower at his unfortunate Potions partner.

"I don't know," Peter mumbled. "I wouldn't mind being something little."

Snape snorted. "That'd be a first." He couldn't quite shake the feeling Pettigrew was more interested in watching than listening. Ignoring it, he tugged his robe on over his head and set his hat on his mussed, reddened hair. "Are you coming? I'd like to get this over with."

Peter shrugged and slid off his stool. The book bag cut an inch into fatty tissue when he slung it over his shoulder. Severus shuddered.

"You're pathetic."

Professor Dram was next door in her office, marking papers. A large mug of scummy, stone cold coffee sat next to her hand. Severus sneered when she took a drink. "We've finished, Professor," he said.

"Got everything put up?"

"Yes, Professor."

She scribbled a large, red "27%" atop the essay in front of her and looked up at them. Dram seemed annoyed about something. Of course, she always seemed annoyed about something. "Got everyone's things where they can find them tomorrow?"

"They're lined up on the back wall. You can check if you'd like." Snape pulled himself to his full height and glowered down his nose. Peter was silent, cowering beside and a little behind him. How in seven Hells did you end up in Gryffindor, you great pudding? Were they the only ones stupid enough to take you?

Dram's brow furrowed. Her narrow shoulders hunched like a vulture's wings. "What happened in the first place?"

"Pettigrew dropped a vial. I told him not to touch it."

"He's right, ma'am. I'm sorry." Peter's weak voice faded in and out.

"Hmph. Ten points from each of your Houses, and you, Mister Snape, will tutor your partner three times a week until he grows a brain. Do you understand?"

Perfectly, you sorry cow. You're making me do your dirty work. Severus' spine shivered at the thought of forcing soft, weak, useless Pettigrew to absorb knowledge to which he had no rights. "Yes, Professor," he said.

"But..." Peter stammered. He peeked out from behind Snape, face stiff with shock, absently clutching Snape's robe. Snape pulled it out of his grip. Peter fiddled with his own. "I... he's... he's a Slytherin, ma'am!"

"Give me one good reason why you can't learn from a Slytherin." Her brown eyes narrowed. After a minute of silence she said, "Ten more points from Gryffindor, and if I catch either of you fouling up again I'll fail you so fast your heads will swim."

"Professor, I hardly think it's fair to punish me for Pettigrew's ineptitude-"

"Between you and me, Mister Snape, I couldn't give a damn what you think."

Severus stiffened. His mouth twitched angrily. It took him a moment to gather himself enough to say, "I shall speak with Professor Fellus about this."

She didn't have a response to that. Instead, her thin, washed-out mouth narrowed and she took ten more points from Slytherin. "Out, now. Both of you. If I ever see anything like what happened today again, I'll have your heads for lampshades."

Snape kept his mouth shut and gave the shortest, tersest bow of which he was capable. Pettigrew followed him out. Neither spoke.

The warm, jellylike presence behind Snape reminded him that, indeed, life could always get worse. He kept his eyes straight ahead. It wasn't fair. He'd earned respect, through ceaseless toil and careful exploitation of his natural assets; the fact that one brainless bitch had this sort of power over him was unspeakable.

He screwed his mouth tighter. It only relaxed when he turned to get to Arithmancy and Pettigrew didn't follow. A soft, lippy noise echoed in the corridor behind him, and once again the weight of eyes fell away.

Professor Fellus was as useful as a Gryffindor sometimes.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I'll talk to her about reducing your punishment, but until then it stands." Fellus had given him an apologetic sort of smile and gone back to work. Severus didn't stay; he had a rat-faced pile of suet to suffer.

His mind wasn't on tutoring as he stormed to the library after supper. Rather, it was on what he should be doing: studying Riddle's parchment, writing his mum to ask about a few ingredients he'd need for the Imperius Salve, deciding which ingredients to ask for and which to buy first Hogsmeade weekend. His homework probably ought to make an appearance in there someplace. There was just something lacking about wars between giant clans when compared to absolute power in an innocuous glass jar.

Potter was the first to look up. His protective frown mirrored the one Severus got every time that pack closed in on one of his young serpents. Black started to get to his feet; Pettigrew held him back.

"S'okay, Padfoot. Professor Dram's making us."

"I'm coming with you, Wormtail."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. He'd never figured out... well, three of their nicknames. (He'd tried hard not to think about "Prongs".) Moony was obvious after last year.

Speaking of whom, a loud squeal suddenly echoed from between the shelves, and the werewolf in question raced into the open, a much smaller, wildly giggling version of himself stuck to his back like a tumour. Madam Pince, beady eyes cold and small mouth pinched, looked up from her desk. "Mister Lupin, stop that horseplay at once!"

"Come on, Madam Pince, we're just having fun." Remus shifted Romulus higher on his back. "It's not like there's anyone here."

Indeed, the library was unusually quiet for a Monday evening. It was a warm Monday evening, though, and still sunny despite darkness forming to the east. Severus had considered studying outside until he realised that would only give some sort of positive reinforcement to himself and to Pettigrew. If Black were going to insist on following them, he especially wanted as little positive reinforcement as possible.

"Regardless of who is or is not here, I will not tolerate this sort of behaviour in my library!" Madam Pince stared icily until Remus reluctantly let go of his little brother.

Romulus blinked sadly. His amber eyes were just as large and round as his brother's, and just as gentle. The boys reminded Severus of deer. Even their stances, alert and graceful, and the tawny colour of their hair attested to a sweetness that masked the uncontrollable monsters they really were. Romulus looked up at Remus. "I need to do some homework anyway. Meet you in the common room?"

Remus smiled lopsidedly and roughed Romulus' hair. "Bugger off, brat."

"Bugger off yourself!" Romulus waved quickly at Potter and Black and Pettigrew and dashed out, giving Severus an especially wide berth.

Snape watched him until the door closed, and turned an accusatory look at Lupin. "Amazing the sorts of things you'll find running about the halls."

"Go fuck yourself, Snape," Lupin said coolly. His gentle eyes had narrowed in warning.

"Mister Lupin, watch your tongue! Do you want me to speak with Professor McGonagall?"

"No, ma'am," Remus said blandly. He never took his eyes off Severus.

"Let's get this over with." Black stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. The glares Severus received from three sides made him feel like a heretic in a lion's den. Black's was the most intense by far, sharp and cold and blue as the heartless sea. He made his swaggering way up to Snape. "Ready?"

"Anytime."

They stared at each other for a daring second. Peter cleared his throat. "You really don't have to come, Sirius. It's only studying."

"I'm not leaving you alone with this snake."

"Honestly, Black," Severus crossed his arms, "do you really think that I'd do something as obvious as hurt one of your precious little worshippers and not give myself room for an alibi?"

"So you're planning to do something, then." Black started to draw his wand.

Snape sniffed. "Hardly. My sole interest lies in protecting my own skin. If that means having to do Dram's job for her and teach that fat rat of yours, so be it."

Black's breath hitched for an instant. A low growl started in his throat. "Don't," he spat, "ever talk about my friends like that." An odd note of panic lay buried in his voice. His wand hand twitched. Sparks jumped from his pocket.

"No magic in the library, Mister Black! I suggest you all leave before I'm forced to remove you."

Pettigrew piped up, "We were just leaving, Madam Pince." The bag still bit deep into his shoulder. "Really, Sirius, I'll be fine."

Black looked between the two of them. He stepped closer until Severus felt hot breath on his throat, hot skin separated by little more than cloth. "If anything happens to him," he whispered, "I'll kill you."

"Given your track record, I have little to fear one way or the other."

Potter pulled Black back by the arm just as it started to tense. "Come on, Paddy. Peter can take care of himself. If he wants to go alone, let him. It's not like it'll take long." He shot the last sentence directly at Severus.

"I've no intentions of keeping your... friend any longer than I have to."

Black seemed to think for a minute. He and Severus stared at each other unblinkingly. Severus closed the last inch between them, staring straight down into blue eyes that would look so much nicer in a body prostrated before him. "We'll walk you," Black said finally.

"Very well. Pettigrew, if you would?" Snape made an exaggerated bow and waved his hand towards the door.

Peter obeyed. He cast a pale, strange glance at Severus but walked out with his head bent towards the floor. Severus followed close behind, Black and Potter just as close behind him, and Lupin bringing up the rear. Between Peter's hidden, hungry glances, and the hatred radiating from his friends, Severus wondered facetiously when his robe would burst into flames.

He directed them to the dungeons and the Potions classroom. The door was locked, but a quick charm corrected that problem. Snape let his eyelids droop in a chilling way. Wand still in hand, he asked, "Did you need help with lessons, too, Black?"

Black turned an amusing pale pink. "I was about to ask you the same thing, Snape," he snarled.

Severus shook his head and tutted. "Silly Sirius, I've already got Pettigrew to bring down my marks." He smirked as Black and Potter both started towards him.

"I can handle things from here, guys." Peter wrung his hands nervously. "Go on, I want to get this over with."

Severus glanced over in mild amusement. The mere thought of the biggest coward in Gryffindor standing up to his friends for a Slytherin was almost enough to wonder what the punch line was.

Potter blinked, but halted his advance. "You don't really want to be alone with that snake, do you?"

Peter shrugged. "Don't reckon I've got much choice."

"We're perfectly happy to stay here for a while if you want, Peter."

Pettigrew shook his head. "Thanks, Moony. I'll be fine." He raised his pale eyebrows at Lupin.

Lupin nodded. His calm, gentle eyes studied Snape for an unobtrusive moment, and turned to Black and Potter. "Come on, you lot. I could stand a bit of help with Transfigurations, and I'm sure Severus would rather we not take up all his time." Sometimes the beast seemed remorseful for his part in the attempt on Snape's life. He wouldn't give an inch where Romulus was concerned, but when it was only Remus, Snape often caught a glimpse of apology lining Lupin's thin face.

Silently, but not trustful in the least, Black and Potter withdrew. Lupin led them up the stairs, Black casting a narrow-eyed reminder of his promise. Severus stared witheringly down his nose. Pettigrew waited until his friends were out of sight to clear his throat.

"Best get this over with, you reckon?"

Snape shot him a haughty glare and lit the torches. "Go get a cauldron, and the ingredients from today. And be careful this time!" He perched on a tall stool and leaned over their black-topped desk. He leaned on his elbows over the book, more to avoid looking at Peter than for any other reason. He'd been making this particular anti-anxiety potion since he was fourteen. The fact that he had to teach it to a dolt too troglodytic to suffer any sort of emotional stress was somewhat insulting.

Peter quietly set the cauldron full of ingredients on the table. He looked up at Severus repeatedly while unpacking. Severus gave him a sidelong glance. Yes, that was definitely hunger in those watery blue eyes. Severus shifted his chair a few inches. It did little to deter the looks.

For the most part, he simply watched as Peter assembled the potion. Now and then he would snap instructions, or raise an eyebrow to indicate that, once again, Peter was about to bollocks it up. Peter's soft, wheezing breath echoed under the bubbling liquid. Snape didn't recall him wheezing when he was with his friends.

"Is this right?" Pettigrew asked, a handful of chrysanthemum petals peeking between the clenched fingers hovering above the cauldron.

"One at a time. It's all in the book."

Severus watched closely as the bruised orange petals drifted singly into purple liquid; it took a pinker hue every time one slipped beneath the surface. As the last of twenty disappeared in the bubbling mess it turned suddenly scarlet. A low whistling sound stopped only when Pettigrew hurriedly removed the glass stirring rod. The watery eyes peeked up once more, questioningly.

"Let it simmer for twenty minutes, then turn off the heat to let it cool. If you agitate it before it's cooled, it'll be ruined."

"Oh."

They stared at each other for a moment. Snape's hands were still wrapped around his book. Pettigrew's picked at each other. "I suggest," Snape said dryly, "that you take the time to study."

"Study what?"

Severus blinked. "Potions," he spat. "What else would you study in the Potions classroom?"

Peter muttered something unintelligible.

"What? Speak up, you daft twit."

"Nothing." Peter hurriedly hunched over his book. He still kept looking over at Severus, trying not to move his head. It didn't work very well, as the puffiness around his eyes limited his peripheral vision.

"Did you have a question?" Severus asked with exaggerated patience.

"No."

"Then stop looking at me."

Peter obeyed for a minute, but, soon enough, that starving gaze fell on Severus again. He was starting to wonder if he should tell Peter to bugger off and just tidy up. It wasn't because a boy was looking at him - that hadn't bothered him since he was thirteen - but because it was Peter Pettigrew. Slow, ugly, fat, dim, jellylike, Gryffindor Peter Pettigrew. The mere thought of that inconstant flesh squishing beneath him made the hairs on the back of Severus' neck prickle.

Which they did, as soon as short, fat fingers tentatively stroked the back of his hand. Snape jumped and snapped his head up to glare at Peter. "Yes?"

"You've got nice hands." Peter's voice was lower than normal, and Severus suspected he was trying to make it throaty and seductive. It made him sound like a sick toad.

"I know." Snape shook the plump hand away. Sharp, claw-like nails scraped a white furrow in his epidermis and he frowned. "Be a little careful, would you?" He lifted his hand to inspect it.

Peter grabbed it. Something turned in Severus' stomach as he ran a slimy, humid tongue over the scratch.

"Stop it, Pettigrew."

"All of you's nice, y'know. I'd never really seen you without your robe on before today." Peter's mouth was slightly open, and his fat lower lip glistened with saliva where he'd licked it.

"How wonderful for you. You can tell your grandchildren all about it."

"I-I don't think I want grandchildren, Severus. If you get my meaning." He was pink, and jiggling, and Snape's stomach wanted to crawl out his mouth at the sight of him.

Snape leaned forward, eyes narrowed and hat pushed to the back of his head. He stopped close enough to feel Peter's shallow breath on his face. "Then why don't you go back to your little friends and ask Black to bugger you senseless? I'm sure he won't mind, and you'll stop wasting my time."

"I-I-I don't want Sirius. I want-" he lunged, and caught Severus' mouth with his wet lips.

Snape jerked back with a roar of outrage. He dragged a sleeve over his mouth. "How dare you?" he bellowed. "How dare you touch me, how dare you kiss me, how dare you even think you could seduce me? You ignorant, hideous, spineless lump of lard! What makes you think you've got anything I'd want?"

Peter hung his head. Liquid pooled in his eyes, threatening to spill out over his pathetic pink face. "I'm sorry," he whispered shakily. "I only thought-"

"You thought wrong." Snape slammed his book shut and stuffed it in his bag. "What could ever make you think that you could conquer me? Go on, tell me, you worthless pile of shit. Are you that stupid, or that blind?"

"I'd heard that Lucius Malfoy-"

"Lucius Malfoy is a living god compared to you."

Peter's tears ran steadily now. "Please. I'll give you anything you want. Please."

Snape sneered. "You expect me to whore myself for your pathetic sake."

Pettigrew sniffled and rubbed his nose on his sleeve. "No," he whispered. Quickly, he dropped to his knees and started pushing up Snape's robe. "Please, just let me-"

Severus kicked him. His foot connected with solid stomach three inches in. Peter fell back with a muffled thud. He curled into a quivering sphere under the desk and sobbed.

Snape stood up and prowled around the table. His wand was in his hand, and he sent small bolts of lightning crashing into the stone around Pettigrew. "I've dealt," crash, "with you and your miserable friends," crash, "for six years. The very fact that you got the idea that you could seduce me," crash, "into your undersized skull leaves me to wonder how low your intelligence really is." An exceptionally large bolt made Pettigrew jump and yelp. Snape crouched low, hands on his knees. "I firmly believe," he whispered, "in giving people what they deserve."

Straightening, he tossed his hat on a desk and yanked his robe over his head. "Come on, Pettigrew. I haven't got all night."

Peter's streaked face looked up from his encompassing black robe. "'Scuse me?"

"Do you want me to fuck you or not?"

Peter's mouth moved, but nothing came out. Unsteadily, he lumbered to his feet and started to pull the robe over his head.

"Only your trousers. We don't need to get into any unnecessary details here, do we?"

"N... n-no." Pettigrew's trembling lower lip said otherwise. He turned his back, anyway, and in a minute kicked a sad pair of jeans that would have held two of Severus across the room. A ragged pair of white Y-fronts quickly followed. Without being told, he cast a locking spell on the door.

"Now," Severus said, giving Peter an eviscerating glare and unbuttoning his trousers, "get on your knees like a good little worm and make this worth my time. Unless you'd rather leave. Personally, I don't give a damn either way."

Peter fell to his knees with a stunned look and crawled - crawled - to Severus. His fat, warm hand delved into the fly of Severus' shorts and groped around until it closed around a semi-flaccid prick. Eyes shut, he pulled it into his mouth.

"Good worm," Snape murmured. "That's right, suck me."

Peter obeyed, one hand on the base of Severus' shaft, the other clutching a lean hip. His mouth was warm and soft, just like the rest of him, amateur and wet and noisy and full of blunt teeth, but adequate enough. Just to get the point across, Severus grabbed a handful of short, fine, pale hair and used it to brace himself as he thrust once, twice, three times into Peter's throat.

"Watch the teeth, worm, or I'll remove them. Oh, yes, much better. Suck, you little rat. Harder. Harder!"

Peter rapidly obeyed. Severus dismissed the bizarre thought that the rodent might actually enjoy being bullied like this. He moved both hands to Severus' arse, kneading weakly, entire face distorted with the length and girth of a hard cock. His cheeks hugged its outline.

Severus felt his balls begin to draw up into his body. It was tempting to just let Pettigrew finish him and leave the rat-faced sod to take care of himself. There was something shamefully appealing about having his way with that useless, flabby body, though. "Are you a virgin?" he asked huskily.

Peter's sunken cheeks flushed. He nodded.

"Have you ever fucked yourself? Used your wand, maybe?"

Again, Peter nodded. He wouldn't look up. Severus' cock twitched at the admission.

"On your hands and knees." Snape smirked wickedly when Peter did as he was told. The odd thought that, should Peter actually be enjoying himself, he would be a useful tool to undermine Gryffindor in the Academic Bowl came unbidden. It was certainly worth filing for later.

Severus summoned a bottle of glycerin from a far shelf. For a moment he considered taking mercy and using it on the black-draped arse jiggling at his feet. The thought made his lip curl. There was a distinct difference between putting his cock someplace and touching with his hands. Instead, he took a small amount in his palm and rubbed it slowly up and down his shaft. The tip of his thumb pressed back his foreskin. He gave a long, low moan, just to prove to Peter how inferior that sodden mouth was to a clinical right hand, and had an unexpected rush of satisfaction at the needy whimper that echoed it.

Severus carefully got to his knees, using them to push Peter's legs wider. Black cloth slithered up sunless flesh as he forced it to pool in the small of Peter's back. Severus shuddered. For a moment he considered stopping altogether; far from the smooth, firm, untouched white of Lucius' backside, Peter's was spongy, expansive, crinkled with cellulite and marred by a large, tomato-shaped birthmark that rose from the pale skin in a stiff, brown blob. Some part of it only made him want to punish the boy more. Biting his lip, Severus positioned himself, never quite letting his hand touch ugly flesh.

Peter moaned, "Ungh..." when Snape breached him. His shallow, wheezing breaths sped up. From the first thrust it was hard, merciless, nothing but harsh breaths and loud groans and the muffled slap of fabric-coated muscle against jelly. Severus' long fingers curled into soft flesh as his pelvis curled in impending release. Peter suddenly leaned on one arm and reached down to squeeze his prick. A few seconds later he squealed, and jets of white hit the floor and splattered.

Severus breathed hard. The rhythmic pull of Pettigrew's arse did nothing to distance him from his own orgasm. He squeezed his eyes shut, oddly aroused by the lurid sensation of fat in his hands. It was disgusting, utterly disgusting, and he pressed his face against Pettigrew's clad back to feel the softness against his cheek. The tension in his pelvis torqued, and suddenly broke as he thrust shallowly and frantically, a short moan muffled by the warmth of adipose flesh pressed against his face. A few final, weak thrusts rent him of the last of his semen and he pulled out, breathing hard against obscured fatty tissue for a few seconds longer than he should have.

Quietly, he sat back on his haunches and used his wand to clean himself. When he was re-tucked, disrobed but with his hat perched in its proper place, he cast Peter a sneer and turned off the burner. "Get your clothes on and get out of here."

Peter nodded. His eyes were clear and empty. "Wednesday?"

Severus snorted. "In your dreams."

"Oh." Peter quietly gathered his things. He cast a resolutely pained look at Snape and walked out. His step was a bit tender.

Severus dumped the potion down the sink and cleaned up as quickly as he could. He was torn between vague sickness and a heady rush of power. As soon as he could he locked the classroom door, hurried outside in the clear night air, and, in a hidden alcove off the Quidditch pitch, rolled a cigarette with angry, stiff fingers.

Where Loyalties Lie

Halloween, the first Hogsmeade visit, and the first round of the Academic Bowl looked to make the upcoming weekend a rapid-fire series of excitement. Severus came as quickly as he could and scurried out of Lucius' bed. He closed his curtains, set up a soundproofing charm, cast a quick "Lumos!" and settled down with the blank parchment, still half-hard and out of breath.

"Hallo," he panted. Severus wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead.

Been having a good time, have we?

He chuckled. "A bit below average."

Shame. Then again, bad sex is better than no sex.

"Damn straight." He and the parchment had become rather good friends. He'd checked the British Wizards' Directory, and gone so far as to skim through the American and various European editions for a Tom Riddle. No luck. Pity, really, he'd have rather liked to meet the man.

You're going to get the rest of the ingredients Saturday?

"Yeah. There are a couple of things I'm not sure I can find in Hogsmeade, but I'll get them somehow."

Which ones?

"Ashenhand Leaf, and Flamboyant Filamentous Fern root. I think Mum's going to send the cobra ribs next week."

She finally gave in?

"Yeah. I had to promise to send her some of my potion. Dad's been harping on about Slytherin being the 'House of Dark wizards' again."

It's truly pitiful that people cannot see brilliance for what it is, and shun rather than embrace it. What potion are you going to send your mother?

Severus shrugged. "Probably some Memory Oil. She'll understand, what with NEWTs and all."

Excellent thinking. Might I suggest a simple Trance Draught, though? From her letters, she's worried that you're going to work yourself to death. Kill two birds with one potion, so to speak.

A tiny smile quirked the corner of Snape's mouth. He'd considered Trance Draught, but abandoned it in favour of something more complex. If Tom agreed with it, though, it couldn't be a bad thing. "I may do that, thanks."

Is there anything else you'd like tonight?

"Could you give me the antidote formula again? Peter knocked the cauldron over and ruined half my notes."

You have been a busy boy.

"Oi!"

Ha ha ha. Can't I even take the piss?

"Just give me the damned formula," Severus said through a grin.

Your wish is my command.

Tom listed the formula carefully and methodically. Severus wrote everything down, again, commenting a few times on the strange ingredients in both. For at least the fifth time he remarked how similar the Imperius Salve was to the average love philter.

Ah, yes, Tom responded once again, but what is total obedience if not love?

"A lot of things," Severus said dryly. "Submission, fear, respect, penance. You're such a fucking romantic, Tom."

And you, Severus Ajit, are such a fucking clinicist.

"I don't think that's a real word."

Then I'll have to invent it, won't I? No words exist to describe you.

Severus felt his face go warm in a blush. He stifled it quickly. "Grow up." He smiled when he said it.

If what you say is true, I have. I should be nearly fifty by now. What's such a brilliant young man doing with an old fart like me?

"Research."

Quite. The parchment rippled in a playfully mocking way.

"Shut up, Tom."

Hmph. Just for that, I think I shall. Is there anything else at all you need?

"Only sleep, I think."

Very well. Shubha raatri, Severus Ajit.

Severus grinned the same wide grin he did every time the parchment tossed back a few words of Hindi. "Shubha raatri, Tom." He smiled down on the still page a moment and, tenderly, placed it back in his drawer.

Several minutes went to chewing on a quill and making notes in the margin of his antidote sheet. He'd only had the antidote formula in his bag that day so he could study in the few spare minutes he could scrape together. Quidditch had taken too much time lately, what with the bare victory against Hufflepuff at the start of the month and a match against Ravenclaw in a week. Gryffindor wasn't set until the end of November. Between heavy practise, study for the Academic Bowl, tutoring Peter in Potions and physiology whilst surreptitiously wringing tidbits about a certain trio out of him, and playing both Lord And Master and Willing Ear to the whole of Slytherin, Snape had precious little time to devote to what had become the love of his life. Just a few more days, though, and it would be ready.

He settled back on top of the covers, mind running over whom he should use to test the special salve. Peter, of course. He was so willing, so soft and so spineless, and wouldn't it make Black apoplectic should he ever find out his pet rat was not only fucking the King of Serpents but bound to his will as well? Not to mention Potter - he was just as spineless as Peter, unable to carry out a simple murder attempt, but nobody would ever dare say that to his face. A smirk crossed Severus' lips at the thought of Peter doing just that. Say, in the middle of supper. With the aid of a Sonorus Charm.

While the potion had the distinct advantage of being undetectable and all but uncounterable, it lacked perpetuity. There was only a short time in which a suggestion could be planted. It also had to be applied to a large area of skin. At least this made it easy to apply, as Tom said it was quite slick and cool and was excellent for backrubs. There was no danger of it spreading so long as one remembered to rub it in.

While it had taken a while, Severus had finally figured out his goal regarding the Academic Bowl: make sure his final competition came in the form of Sirius Caleb Black or James Tiberius Potter, and beat the bastard on Severus' own merits. Anything else would be a hollow victory. He would prove, once and for all, that he was better.

It was just a matter of suffering through the rest of the competition.

While Lisa Sprout in Hufflepuff (Severus shuddered inwardly at the thought of one of his parents being his Head of House) and Frank Longbottom in Ravenclaw were forces to be reckoned with, he had little worry of either House taking a strong hold. If necessary, though, he'd find a way to prevent it.

He slipped from scheming to nothingness, and into dreams where soft voices called to him, phantom hands caressing him from the past. His dream self settled into their touch. They were warm, and soft, and felt like home, and Severus could have happily given into them for a very long time.

Most of the school turned up. It was a dreary Sunday in early November, so that was no great shock. Still, it was bracing to look down from the Slytherin quarter of the high table and see so many faces looking back.

Rose Parkinson had cast Clarity Charms on the five of them, and given Severus a kiss for good luck. He pushed his hat back on his head with a practised finger and leaned back in his chair, smirking. Everything he knew would come quickly and easily. Given how much he knew, that was saying quite a lot.

Five faces glowered at him from the Gryffindor table. Not the rest of the Slytherin team, him. Snape nodded congenially, touching his hat in a small "howdy, ma'am" to Lily. Potter turned purple. Lily put a hand on his as he started to get up. She narrowed her eyes at Snape, and turned her attention to Potter. At least they weren't kissing in front of the whole school, not that he'd put it past them. Snape had walked in on that disgusting sight once, taking Xavier under the Quidditch bleachers for a quick shag. Needless to say, the barely obstructed view of James Potter's tongue had killed any desire for shagging he'd had.

Not that he wouldn't take Potter given the chance. It would just be one more opportunity to prove his superiority in all ways.

Severus looked down the Hall and gave Peter a quick smirk as Dumbledore got to his feet at the middle of the table. McGonagall was at his right hand, and Flitwick at his left. He cleared his throat; the rumble of chatter died down. "Welcome to the first round of the first ever Hogwarts Academic Bowl. It should be an exciting event, and if what I've heard is true ought to settle a few bets." He smirked impishly to a low ripple of laughter. "Before we get started, allow me to lay down some rules.

"This shall be the first of five rounds. At the end of each of the first four, one member of each team shall be eliminated. This will be based on how many questions each person has answered correctly. The participant from each House with the lowest number of questions answered correctly shall be cut.

"Each correctly answered question will result in the answering House being awarded one point. This means a potential one hundred points to any House per round. I think they'll be a bit more divided than that. As Professor Vector informs me, this means there will be one hundred questions, more or less." The headmaster smiled to himself. "Points for questions left unanswered or that fail to receive a correct answer will be forfeit. Are there any questions from the participants?"

None.

"Hands on your bells. The inaugural question is: Based on a right triangle, what Arithmagical theory states that, for every vector as relates to a given arc, the magical constant is sine squared over pi?"

Three small dings went off seemingly at once. In the air above the three teachers, names appeared: SNAPE, POTTER, CHANG. Dumbledore turned his head towards the Slytherin team. "Mister Snape?"

"The Theory of Arc Stability, also known as Arc Constant, and Ous' Constant." Severus smiled serenely as Slytherin was awarded the first point of the contest. His House made quite the ruckus. Gryffindor especially didn't look amused.

Questions came nearly too quickly to catch. They were all above and outside the seventh year curriculum to date, leaving several people with one point, or even none. Severus was soon in the lead for points total, followed closely by Potter, then Gin Chang of Hufflepuff, then Longbottom. Eighty questions in, "What is the primary active chemical in the anti-asthmatic potion Easy Breathing?"

Four dings, and Severus cursed under his breath as the air read, POTTER, SNAPE, SPROUT, EVANS.

"Mister Potter?"

"Theobroma cacao-oh, fuck, I meant-" he slapped a hand over his mouth.

It was too late. Most of the school broke out in fits of raucous laughter. Professor Flitwick turned an almost unnatural shade of pink, Dumbledore arched an almost amused eyebrow, and McGonagall screwed up her mouth. "Mister Potter, I am appalled! I expect some modicum of self-control from a Gryffindor. Head Boy no less! We shall discuss this at the end of questions, and you may consider yourself disqualified!"

A roar of outrage rose up from the long Gryffindor table. An equally loud roar of delight rose from Slytherin. Potter gaped. "But... you can't do that!"

"I believe I just did."

"Headmaster, you can't just let-" Potter's eyes were huge, his hands waving impotently.

Dumbledore shrugged. "I'm afraid I must side with Professor McGonagall. Such language is frowned upon at best." He cast the Gryffindor team a sad, apologetic smile. Snape cast them one rather less sad and apologetic.

As Potter made his sulking, scowling way to his House table, Dumbledore said, "I believe the question falls to Mister Snape?"

"Theobromine."

"Correct."

Potter's brown eyes tried to burn a hole in Severus' skull. Severus smiled sweetly, and listened to the next question.

Slytherin took forty-three points in the end. That was seven more than even Gryffindor. Severus didn't take his hat off for the rest of the day.

The celebration in the Slytherin common room didn't end until after midnight, when Professor Fellus staggered in and suggested they might want to get some sleep. They obeyed - the man had a tendency to do erumpent impressions if woken up twice. Evan, cheerful despite being cut, had gone an extra step to make sure everyone was cheerful. Nagendra nearly had to be carried upstairs after all the punch he'd drunk.

"I still can't believe Potter did that! All the little baby Gryffindors are going to have a new favourite word come morning." Lucius grinned wickedly. His eyes were a wee bit crossed.

"Did you see the look on Evans' face?" Emeric said.

Severus nodded. The glare she'd shot him after he'd correctly answered the Potions question was burned in his mind as perhaps the most toxic thing he'd ever witnessed. It was also one of the most intriguing; who would have ever guessed the Darling of Gryffindor Head Girl had that sort of fire in her? He didn't much want to focus on that, though. He was more interested in having a quick chat with Tom, and going to bed.

He slipped the braces off his shoulders and was just tugging his shirt over his head when Lucius drawled, "Don't tell me you're tired already, Sev."

"Some of us have reputations to uphold. That's a bit difficult without sleep."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and flopped down, arms folded on his chest. He was wearing one of those bloody rugby shirts again. The stripes did nothing to subdue his sturdy Beater's build. "Why don't you just cast an Osmosis Charm and have at it? You'd be able to spend five minutes without working, at least."

"Shut up, Lucius." Snape shot a tight-lipped frown. Drunk, Semi-Rational Lucius would turn into Nosy Lucius if encouraged. And he knew perfectly well that Snape had used several Osmosis Charms, keeping them active anywhere from a few minutes to seven hours. With enough rest, they could be left for up to twenty-four, but Snape was one to err on the side of caution where his mental and emotional acuity were concerned.

"You're a real prick when you're drunk, y'know that, Severus?"

"Yes." He arched a sober eyebrow and shut the curtains around his bed. Severus fished the parchments out of his drawer and began leafing through. "'Lo, Tom," he said, setting the blank on his lap.

Namaste, Severus. How are you tonight?

"Quite well, thank you. We won the first round today."

As I knew you would. Of course, it should never be said that the King of Serpents is one to be trifled with.

Severus smiled softly. Now that he'd met someo-something that properly gave him the respect he knew he'd been so long in earning, it left a warm feeling in his stomach whenever some small nod was made. "And the cobra ribs arrived this evening." He had them safely stashed in his pocket. "I'll have it finished by next weekend."

It's so nice to know that my work won't be forgotten. I'd never even dreamed that someone else with the intelligence and sheer power to recreate an Imperius Salve would come to Hogwarts. I wish I could be there to see it.

"I wish you could, too."

Perhaps, someday, we'll meet?

"I don't know if you're still alive, Tom. I can't find you in any Wizards' Directories."

You've looked? I'm flattered.

"'Course I've looked," Severus said, his cheeks a bit warm. "D'you really think I wouldn't?"

What if it should turn out that I'm not what you expect? After all, you're young, and brilliant, and I'd wager rather handsome as well. I'm only an old man by now.

"I don't think you could ever be only an old man."

The parchment curled slightly in his grasp, warm as skin and unexpectedly blank. After several moments it read, I have to admit something, Severus Ajit. You've caught me in a bit of a lie.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

I doubt there's any need to tell you, but there is more to this parchment than a simple record, or a simple "what". For all intents and purposes, I am Tom Riddle. I wanted to make sure I could trust you.

Snape smiled and settled back on his pillow. The bottom edge of the parchment rest against his bare chest, still warm, and unexpectedly smooth. "I've known that for a long time."

Perhaps... the sharp writing suddenly trailed off and vanished. A corner drooped in an almost bashful way.

Severus' breath filled his lungs slowly and was deliberately expelled equally slowly. He was just about to ask what Tom was trying to say when the curtain was thrust back.

"Didn't think you'd be asleep yet." Lucius smirked. The room was dark, three other sets of drapes closed and muffled.

"I'm finishing my homework."

Lucius snorted. "Uh-huh, and I'm supposed to believe that you didn't finish it days ago? Come on, budge up." He started to push his way onto the bed. A white knee started to press down on old and new parchments.

"Stop it!" Severus snatched them up, tapping them together in a careful stack. "You're going to spoil them."

"What're you working on?" Lucius tugged at Severus' hand.

"None of your business."

"That's not very nice. What's so important that it's got your mind out of the gutter?"

"Fuck off, Luc. I don't want to see you right now."

"'Course you do," Lucius purred as he dragged a single finger down the middle of Snape's chest. "What's wrong? Brewer's droop?"

"Shut up." Severus bared his teeth slightly.

Lucius sighed melodramatically and collapsed on the bed. Snape tried to keep the parchments out of clear sight, but suddenly Lucius' eyes widened. "You've really got it, then?"

"Got what?"

"Come on, I'm not that drunk. I can read a formula just as well as you can."

"I severely doubt that."

Lucius shot Severus a weary look. "Please, Sev. Ashwinder eggshells? Peppermint oil? Cobra rib jelly?" He leaned up on his elbows. His pink lips were very close to Severus', and the delicate fingers against Severus' cheek were hot and chilling. "Can I try it out?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not that dim, you half-wit. This is a dangerous formula, and it shouldn't be used except by the best wizards."

"So...?"

"So I mean the best wizards, not the best wizards' slobbering drunks of friends!"

Lucius leaned in even closer, allowing their lips to brush and the pungency of vodka to pass into Severus' mouth with a puff of air. "What would you do if I told you I loved you?"

Snape glared, unimpressed. "I wouldn't believe you, and I'd tell you to go sober up."

Lucius gave a light, lilting sort of laugh. "Should know nobody can pull the wool over your pretty eyes, eh, Sev?"

"Get out of here, Malfoy. You know I won't shag you when you're drunk."

"Oh, yes, you're so terribly noble, almost a Gryffindor."

"Just fuck off, will you?" Severus wasn't about to shag Lucius drunk, not out of any moral outrage but because alcohol turned him into a whiny son of a bitch. He wouldn't remember any of this by morning. After the hangover passed, they could get back to life as usual.

"Nighty-night, Severus, darling." Malfoy nuzzled Snape's nose before slathering it with a slimy tongue. Snape cringed, and shoved his mindless friend off the bed. A few moments later, Malfoy stumbled into his own, and was unconscious before he could even close the curtains.

Severus rubbed his eyes and picked up the blank parchment again. It read, Oh, dear. You are in poor company. You've no idea what I'd give to be there with you, Severus Ajit. Platinum among tin, you are.

Snape smiled sadly, rubbing the parchment with his thumb. "Good night, Tom."

Shubha raatri, Severus Ajit. May you find in dreams what you seek in waking.

The parchment curled around his hand a moment and was empty. Snape stacked the pages, perhaps a bit more slowly than he should. He'd not even gotten to ask Tom the few lingering questions he had about the potion. Sometimes it seemed like there were more urgent things to talk about - usually nothing at all.

Shaking his head, Snape dropped the stack in his drawer for the night, settled, naked, under the heavy covers, and fell asleep. Much to his dismay, he didn't dream.

Severus nearly had a heart attack. One second Lucius was in the air, batting the Bludger around an empty pitch to celebrate slaughtering Ravenclaw, the next he was choking on a yelp and dangling by his knees with the Bludger still loose. Without a thought, Severus swooped over, grabbed his friend, wrenched the bat from Lucius' fist, and knocked the ball away before it could bury itself in Lucius' thick skull. "Let go of the broom, Luc. You won't fall."

Lucius muttered something incoherent and slowly unwound his legs from the handle. Snape turned his body just long enough to send the Bludger skidding again, and clutched Lucius tightly around the waist. Within seconds he'd dropped him on the ground and was after the ball before it could take another vengeful turn. A few good smacks sent it hurtling towards the supply shack. He leapt from the broom and landed with the ball pinned between his stomach and the pitch. Ignoring the stars going off behind his eyes, he wrestled the damned thing into its box.

Gut throbbing, he scurried over and knelt next to Malfoy. Malfoy was clutching his left forearm, eyes screwed shut, rocking gently. "Let me see."

Lucius shook his head. "I need to go."

"You're not going anywhere, mate. I'm not letting my best Beater lose his batting arm."

"I won't if you let me go!" Lucius shouldered Severus out of the way and staggered to his feet. "Fuck off, Snape!"

Severus stiffened a moment, stunned. Quickly, his eyes narrowed and he grabbed Lucius' shoulder before the twit was out of reach. "Show me your goddamned arm, Malfoy, or it's off the team."

They stared at each other. Lucius' silver eyes were wild, his white fringe falling haphazardly into them. He shook when he breathed. Screwing up his mouth in an abnormally submissive gesture, he pushed up his rugby shirt sleeve just enough to show that the grey skull on his arm was black and shiny, more like molten lead dribbled over his skin than a tattoo. Severus frowned. "That thing's hurting you?"

Lucius nodded. His face was still screwed up in pain. "Let me go, Sev. Please."

Snape couldn't remember that word ever sincerely falling from Lucius' lips. He tightened his grip on Lucius' shoulder. "You're off the team, Malfoy. We can't have that thing going off in the middle of a match."

The sheer hatred that emanated from Lucius' snarl made Severus' ribs turn cold. He quickly added, "I'm not going to sit happily by the goalposts while you break your neck."

"Just let me go, Snape. Never thought I'd see you stab your own House in the back."

"Fuck the House. You're my friend."

"Was your friend, you son of a bitch." Lucius wrenched out of Severus' hand and staggered towards the Forbidden Forest. "Don't forget my broom."

"Get it yourself."

Lucius didn't respond. Severus watched him lurch into the trees and vanish. He shook his head and grabbed his Nimbus 1000. Lucius' Nimbus 1001 still hovered over the pitch.

The common room was fairly busy for a Saturday evening. Snape scanned it until he saw the two people he wanted. "Xavier!" he barked.

Xavier looked up from his sketchbook. The page was filled with a half-finished dragon snuffling smoke rings. "You wanted something, boss?"

"Don't call me 'boss'. You're First Beater."

"What happened to Malfoy?"

"Malfoy's got other priorities. Milton!"

Andrea Milton, a husky fourth year and the team's only reserve Beater, jumped. "Yes, sir?" she asked a bit too timidly.

Severus hid his weary look. "You're Second Beater. Report to all practises, and make sure you fix that broom of yours." Andrea's Cleansweep Four was notorious for suddenly braking in mid-air.

"Yes, sir," she said, awed.

Severus turned and headed for his room. Behind him, he heard the flurry of chatter and congratulations, and squeals from the fourth year girls. It was a celebration he much wanted to take part in.

Adjusting his hat, he settled on the bed, opened his drawer, and pulled out the blank parchment. As soon as he touched it, it curled comfortingly around his hand.

Severus smiled. It was good to have a friend.

Hindi As Far As I Can Tell

Shubha raatri: good night
Namaste: hello, greetings

Go on to the third part of the story

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