With a trembling hand, Snape propped himself up into a sitting position. Time to take control.

"It has to be Draco," he announced. He'd used the cum spell on him first.

Harry, ready to offer first time to Draco, found himself suddenly cold. Once more Slytherins took precedence. Well, what could he expect: he wasn't part of the inner circle, was he? No matter how supposedly important he was. Nothing like a reminder of the true order of things.

Draco, too hungry for Snape's cock, didn't notice. Snape did note the slight physical withdrawal, but he thought that was simply Harry giving Draco more space.

"Give me your arse," Snape ordered.

Draco turned, dropped to all fours and wriggled his arse in Snape's direction. "To hear is to obey," he smirked, then gasped as Snape removed the plug. Before he could move, Snape's hands grabbed his hips. "Hold still."

There was no arguing with that tone. Draco fought against the urge to impale himself on that staff begging for his attention.

Snape slipped his wand out from under the pillows and cast a cleansing as well as a deep lubricating spell on his brat's arse.

"OH!"

Snape grinned. "Tickles?"

"Feels like bubbles breaking," gasped Draco, wriggling his buttocks just a bit.

"Now you can set yourself up."

Draco turned and then did absolutely nothing. Snape watched as his brat's fondest desire lessened. "Is there a problem, Draco?"

"Huh... How... I mean..."

Snape knew better than to laugh. "Staddle me. No, facing me, Draco. Harry, maybe... Harry?"

His other brat blinked as though coming back from somewhere else.

"Harry, maybe you could direct my cock to Draco's arsehole? Hold it a bit until he gets the feel of it? Good. Now, Draco, rest your hands on my shoulders. I'll hold your hips. You'll be better balanced that way. Go slowly. Take as much as you can at any point and then allow yourself to get accustomed to it. Don't worry about my staying hard. I'm certain Harry will be more than able to keep my cock interested."

Harry turned his face a little to hide his reaction to that. Once more all he was was a tool to be used. Why had he thought it might be different? Still, the sight of Draco trying to absorb Snape's cock into his body was well worth watching. He sat back on his heels, his hand unconsciously dropping to his own erection, to his balls as he watched.

Draco gasped as the head finally passed the initial barriers. Oh, damn, it had been a good thing that Snape...that Severus had opened them up so much. Now that he had to deal with it, he really wondered if he couldn't have done so even more. Oh, fuck! That cock was big!

"Easy. This isn't a race, Draco. Take your time."

Ha! Easy enough for him to say! Not like Snape had been dreaming of having something up his arse for days. Oh, bloody hell! He wanted it so badly! Shit, he was going to get it all in, even if it killed him. Oh, fuck! It was! But what a way to go!

It took longer than Harry had even thought it would. From the way Draco had been drooling to have that monster up his arse, Harry had thought he'd just plunge himself down on it. Mind, the damn thing had felt like a column of steel when he'd held it steady for Draco to locate. Inch by very gradual inch, it disappeared into Draco's body.

Harry wriggled uncomfortably. Maybe it was a good thing Draco had gone first. Harry was suddenly aware of the plug in his arse, a plug that would be removed when it was his turn. Shit! If Draco was taking all this time...and he wanted it...

He found himself swallowing hard.

Finally, he cottoned on that the progress was being controlled more by Snape than Draco. The ligaments and tendons of his wrists were pronounced from their effort to keep Draco from moving too quickly.

Draco's head was tilted back, his eyes closed with concentration. He was panting. He knew that there were tears making their way down his cheeks, but that was more out of frustration than pain. Every time he tried to go faster, Snape's hands gripped him all the tighter, preventing him from getting what he wanted.

"Easy. Give yourself time to get used to the feel. Once you're comfortable, I promise I'll let you go at it as you want."

"Want now!" he whined.

Snape dared chuckle at him. Draco thought he'd never hated anyone as much as he did Snape right now. And want him so very much.

"It's all in," whispered Harry, equally awed and horrified.

"Yes!" Draco all but shouted, feeling as though he'd won an incredible prize. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against Severus's.

Snape's hands slowly stroked their way up Draco's rib cage, around to his pecs where his fingers found the boy's puckered nipples. He played with them, listening to Draco's breathing change. Between them, Draco's cock, which had drooped during the procedure, now began reviving.

Grey eyes opened, glittering, and a lovely pink tongue moistened lips red from being bitten. "You promised."

Snape nodded. He made the gesture of pulling his hands back, indicating that it was all up to Draco. Then he added a look which dared the boy to do his worst.

Harry watched, fascinated, as Draco, hands on Snape's shoulders for balance, used the leverage to pull himself then down then back up again. His movements grew more rapid as he literally fucked himself.

Though Snape had originally not moved, Harry noticed that his hips were now bucking, as they rose to meet Draco on the downstroke. That his hands were fisted in the bedclothes again.

Draco was covered with sweat, his hair sodden. Lines of liquid made their way down his back, to flick against Harry as Draco's motions scattered them. He noticed that Snape's body was glistening, but whether from Draco or his own responses, Harry couldn't tell.

Draco's face was grimaced, with a feral quality. He breathed with grunts, with the occasional profanity, as what he was seeking seemed to be continually out of reach.

But then, suddenly, there it was. Just once more and...

Snape's hips rose and stopped, his mouth open, but no longer drawing breath. He shot his cum deep within the body of his brat, activating the spell.

Draco screamed, his cum shooting out of his cock, spreading lines of creamy white over his body, over Snape's.

Only Harry noticed that there was also light shooting out with every spurt.

Harry just watched as Draco, with Snape's help, lifted himself enough for Snape's cock to slip out of him. Then, with a sigh of absolute satiation, a last kiss for Snape, he dropped alongside, sound asleep.

Harry wondered if he should offer to do something to make Draco a bit more comfortable. He was lying, face down, arse high, looking for all his size like a little kid sleeping hunched up. Then he decided, what the hell: let Slytherin look after Slytherin.

He glanced down at his semi-hard self and tried to figure out if jerking off was worth his while.

"Harry."

Snape's voice was rougher than normal and Harry pretended he hadn't heard. He began to shuffle back, preparatory to leaving the bed when a hand come into his range of vision.

He looked up to find Snape watching him from under drooping eyelids.

"Come closer."

Harry cocked his head. "Sure you can deal with me now?"

Snape's eyebrow awoke enough to rise at the tone of his voice. Harry resisted the urge to squirm.

"He had to come first, Harry. I used the spell on him first."

Harry sat back on his heels. He thought before asking, "The cum that you spread on him and on me?"

Snape nodded.

"What does it do?"

Snape's smile reminded Harry of why he still hated this man. "Later. When you're both awake. Right now, I'd like you to come close."

Harry thought a moment then decided what was the use. It wasn't as though he was going to escape getting himself impaled on that now softened monster.

He expected Snape to instruct him on how to get him hard again but was instead pulled down into a one-arm embrace and his head titled up for some close examination. "I know you aren't as keen as Draco is in penetration. I'm sorry, but, this time, it has to be."

Harry pulled his chin away from Snape's hand and propped it up on the man's shoulder. "You have to come in me...in us...to activate the spell?"

Snape's smile had nothing in common with the sneers Harry had experienced in the Potions classroom. "See, a good brain. You should use it more."

Harry made a small grimace before adding. "Draco's cum shot out with light."

"Did it?" Both of Snape's eyebrows rose high this time. He was honestly surprised. "I didn't know that would happen," he admitted. "It wasn't mentioned in the literature."

Now Harry was the one surprised. "You've never done this before?"

"Never had reason to." Snape looked over at Draco who was still sound asleep, snoring softly. "Doesn't look as though it's affected him negatively."

"When are you going to do it to me?"

The fingertips of Snape's free hand lightly stroked Harry's face. "When he wakes. Why should you be the only one to know about the...'fireworks'?"

"Am I going to like it as much as he did?" Harry leaned his face into the hand. He was discovering how much he liked being touched in this manner.

"Honestly? No, probably not. Once it's been done, we'll find another way of seeing to your pleasure."

Harry snorted. "Shit. I can't even be queer normally."

Snape caught the slight tone of disparagement. "Why would you consider the way your body is pleasured to be not normal?"

Harry sighed. "Well, it would be nice not to be different for once."

Snape surprised Harry by rolling over so that his body partially covered Harry's. He propped himself up on his elbows and took Harry's face between his hands. "I think I would like you to explain that comment."

Harry tried to pull his face away from Snape's hands, but they tightened, not painfully, but in such a way that indicated Snape was not going to allow this to slip by.

"Well, I'm always different."

"Such as?"

Harry sighed. "I survived Voldemort's attack and my parents didn't. I was a wizard living with Muggles. I get to Hogwarts and know nothing about wizard life and history. Some stupid prophecy has decided I'm to be the hero against Voldemort, but I'm the one who helps get him a body. People die around me. Hell, I thought I might be at least be normal in my sexuality, but, heck, no, I can't even be normal in that. I have to be different than most of the guys here. And even queer, I seem to be different." His laughter didn't sound funny, even to himself. "I can't seem to do anything normally."

Snape rolled over again, onto his back, but this time he took Harry with him. He held him close until Harry managed to relax against the hard, warm body. Snape kindly waited until Harry's arms found their way around him to comment.

"First of all, you had nothing to do with surviving Voldemort's initial attempt to eliminate you. Lily was and is responsible for that. Should you ever again encounter the ghost of your mother, take it up with her. As for being fostered with Muggles, that was a Dumbledore decision. It had something to do with blood ties and, unfortunately, the few remaining members of the Potter family that are left were far too old to take on a small child. Besides, the protection came from Lily and it was of her blood that protection had to be maintained."

"Yeah, I know," muttered Harry, unconsciously nestling more into Snape's arms. Doing it, he felt imbued with a sense of security. Snape's chin rubbed gently on the top of his head.

"I'm sorry that your life with them was less than kind. Had Dumbledore known..."

Harry's head jerked up. "Don't. I think he did know, but that it didn't matter. He kept sending me back, every year. I wouldn't be surprised if he insists that I go there yet again after NEWTs."

Snape shook his head. "No. You're seventeen. Legally an adult. Blood protection has its limits." And he settled Harry's head back on his shoulder.

"Your lack of knowledge of this world might have been mitigated had you been the kind to stick your nose in a book and live in the library."

Harry chuckled. "I have Hermione for that."

Snape gave the back of his neck a slight squeeze. "You won't have her around to do your homework for you after this year, Mr. Potter."

Harry tried hard to sound offended. "She hasn't. Not since OWLs. True, I got those with her tutoring me, but I passed them on my own."

"You could have done better in Potions," Snape pointed out less than kindly.

Harry grinned and let the tip of his tongue trace a short line along the muscle that was nearest. "I'll surprise you this year."

"I look forward to that," mocked Snape.

Harry laughed softly. He would surprise Snape. It was a challenge and he did tend to rise to challenges. And, besides, he wanted to beat Draco.

"As for your sexuality."

Harry grew very still.

"It's something you were born with, Harry. I know that in some Muggle philosophies, homosexuality is considered unacceptable, something to be hidden."

"In the closet."

Snape scoffed. "I've never understood that expression. What do Muggle closets have to do with one's sexuality?"

Harry made a mental note that the next time he went into Muggle London to find Snape a few books of his own on the subject.

"Besides, among wizards, it's not considered to be much of a problem. Though, I must admit, that one is still supposed to do one's best to reproduce, more out of a sense of diminishing population than because homosexuality is considered ‘abnormal'."

"Yeah, but don't ‘normal' queers like to take it up the arse?"

Snape laughed. "Well, there are so-called normal queers like Draco who do. Then there are normal Harry-types who drool at the thought of taking head into their mouths."

Harry propped his chin on Snape's shoulder He knew he was blushing: he could feel the heat on his face. "But both are okay?"

Snape took Harry's face between his hands once more. He pulled it over for one of those kisses that went directly to Harry's cock. "Both," he whispered as he mouthed the contours of Harry's face, "are more than okay." He pushed Harry's face back just enough so that they could look into each other's eyes. "And I get the benefit out of satisfying an anal brat and an oral one as well."

Harry leaned in to take Snape's mouth once more. The gesture was interrupted by a loud, snorting snore that came from the ‘anal brat' lying next to them.

Snape shook his head. "I suppose you intend to tease Draco about that."

Harry chewed on his lower lip before answering. "No. But I do intend to file it under ‘future blackmail material'."

Snape laughed aloud as he raised his head to claim Harry's mouth.

Draco woke feeling absolutely glorious. He had to think about that for a moment before the reason why came to him with a twinge from his arse.

Oh, yes, he smiled against the bedclothes. He finally gotten a taste of what he'd been dreaming about these last days. No, more than these last days: since the day that he'd accepted he was not into females.

Yes, his arse felt a little delicate – he wriggled it to ensure the twinge was truly there and not something he had dreamt up – but he'd never felt better in his life. That cock had filled him so that it seemed that he existed only where his body met Severus's.

And he'd never come like that either. He'd actually seen fireworks even though his eyes had been closed tight.

Dear Merlin, let it not be a one-time event!

He rolled slightly to his side, opened his eyes and found his rival for Severus's cock, lying on the owner of that cock, mouth busily sucking at the other's. Yet again.

He lay there and some of the sense of elation, of satisfaction left him. Why did it seem that Harry Potter got all the cuddles? Was Draco less deserving of them? Was that the price he had to pay for getting what he'd desired most, Severus's cock?

He closed his eyes on the picture of Harry's satisfaction and wondered what else he had missed while sleeping.

Snape had caught the flicker of grey and used an arm to draw the boy closer to him. Draco resisted momentarily then molded himself to Snape's side. He managed to place a kiss on that still damp head.

"Better?"

Draco rubbed his face against Snape's pec and sighed. "Yes," he whispered.

"What you wanted?"

Draco looked up and found Snape smiling down at him. He wanted to shove Harry off and take the Gryffindor's place but wasn't certain how Slytherin a response that would get from his Head of House. So he suddenly found the ring in Snape's nipple astonishingly fascinating as he nodded.

"Good. Because now it's Harry's turn and I need your help."

Draco coughed slightly, choking back some snarky remark. Apart from holding Snape's cock until he'd settled on it, what had Potter done for him?

Still, he moved slowly to his hands and knees and waited for instructions.

Snape, sensing that all was not as well with his anal brat as should be, allowed Harry to slip slowly to the other side then reached for this brat and pulled him, not all that gently, to the place Harry had occupied. He smoothed back the hair off, revealing the surprised expression, and decided this was too good to pass up. He cupped the back of Draco's head and held it still for his assault on the still swollen lips.

It took some moments, but then Draco's mouth opened and he all but melted into Snape's embrace.

Mentally, Snape sighed. Issues. There always seemed to be issues with these two. Would they ever be settled? And how could they be when even he, issue-gatherer supreme that he acknowledged he was, had no idea just what was causing these to arise in the brains of his brats.

Well, one thing at a time. Draco had been bound to him and now it was time for Harry.

Draco caught on fairly quickly that Harry was not looking forward to having that marvelous cock deep within him. That fact helped appease the wariness he had felt on seeing the other two together. Plus Severus keep repeating to Harry that it was this time only; that should it ever happen again, it would be solely because Harry wanted it. From Harry's response to that, Draco knew that he would have no competition in that realm.

Instead of having Harry straddle him, Snape had Draco lie back against the pillows, made certain he was well-anchored, then had Harry lie back against him.

"Use your hands to keep Harry interested, will you, Draco?"

And while Draco did just that, Snape lifted Harry's legs over his shoulders and slowly penetrated the boy, eyes intent on Harry's face, alert for anything more than the necessary discomfort.

Harry writhed against Draco, his actions causing Draco's cock to rise once more. As Draco watched, he wondered just how he could convince Severus to take him that way.

Snape glanced up. He was sweating from the strain of not making this a harder experience for Harry. He brushed the sodden hair off his face and grinned at Draco, whose face was all too obvious. "Maybe next time," he panted, and Draco's pleasure at that far outweighed Harry's present one.

Well, the spell had indicated that Snape had to come first. There would be no problem with that. Harry was truly not getting off on this. Snape leaned over and took a rough kiss from the boy. "Only this once. I promise." And Harry nodded.

Snape's orgasm was less all-encompassing than his first had been. It had, after all, been some time since he'd last had an arse of any kind in which to come. And this was his second of the day. The stamina spell, though strong, had waned over the time since he'd cast it.

Once he'd caught his breath, he reached down and took Harry's cock in hand. So he had the experience, strange as it was, of seeing just what Harry had meant about the light accompanying the cum of orgasm.

"Merlin's beard!" gasped Draco. "What the hell was that?"

Snape sat back against the headboard of his populated bed; Harry and Draco were sitting cross-legged at the foot. They were all naked, still flushed from the shower they had taken together. They'd fooled around a little but none of them was ready to go another round.

There was a platter of finger foods on the bedclothes. The manner in which his brats attacked the contents indicated that another hunger was on the way to being appeased. He knew that he would be dealing with still another as soon as the food had taken the edge off.

He wasn't wrong.

Draco and Harry had made comments on the literal ‘fireworks' and Snape had indicated that there would be time to discuss that situation after they'd bathed and fed.

Harry rested his back against the high footboard and licked his fingers. Snape thought it funny that the boy did so in a way certain to attract attention. He wouldn't have done that mere days earlier. Now, he seemed to be checking from under that fringe of wild hair that his tactic was indeed successful.

Draco leaned over and took Harry's free hand and cleaned every slightly sticky finger with due diligence, his eyes gleaming with dare. Harry took him up on it and captured his mouth.

As the two separated, Draco glanced over at Snape who was watching them with interest.

"It's time."

Snape shook his head in reluctant admiration. His Slytherin was very capable of multi-tasking it seemed.

"You promised," added Harry.

‘Yes, I did. And you're right, it is time you knew." He used stretching his legs out to give himself time to phrase his explanation. Well, there was no beating about the bush: might as well be direct.

"It's a very old spell. Goes back, as near as I could discover, to pre- caesarian Rome. It's a binding spell."

Draco made a small grimace with his mouth as he thought a moment. "Sexual binding?"

Snape nodded. Harry's eyes grew larger behind his glasses. He and Draco exchanged a look then Harry said, "What else does it do?"

Snape shrugged. "The section of literature I could find was not all that specific."

"Okay."

Draco seemed to be quite calm about the matter. Snape had expected some argument. Still, he doubted that he would get away without some when his brats fully understood.

"Just so I understand," Draco continued, "the spell which needed all our cum was activated when you came in us."

Snape nodded.

"This means," offered Harry, "that we are bound to you."

Snape nodded again, waiting for it.

"Just to you?" Draco still seemed very calm.

"Not quite. We are each bound to the others."

There was a long silence then Harry spoke. "Like a triad. We've become a sexual triad."

Snape was pleased: Harry was using his brain again.

"So what exactly does that mean, Severus?" Draco's voice was a little colder than it had been till then.

"It means that we can only participate in sexual activity among the three of us."

"Ah," said Harry.

Draco frowned. "So, let me get this clear. I can only have sex with you and Harry?"

Snape nodded.

"And Harry can only have sex with you and me?"

Snape wondered why they were drawing this out so long, but he nodded once more.

"I hope this means," Harry's voice was also growing a little snappish, "that you can only have sex with either one of us."

"That's what it means," agreed Snape.

"What happens if one of us decides to have sex with someone else?" Draco's voice was definitely dipping into the colder regions.

"Nothing."

"Just what does that mean?" Harry moved a little closer to Draco who was watching Snape's face with intense concentration.

"Well, according to the literature, it means that should we, any of us," time for his brats to realise that he, too, was fully involved in this, "attempt to have sex with someone outside the...the triad, for want of a better name, that there will be no sexual response to the other's overtures."

"We can't get hard, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, that is indeed what I'm saying."

Draco's face suddenly remind Snape of Lucius's when ready to cast Cruciatus. This did not bode well.

"So," said Harry, "no Neville, no Dennis."

Snape kept his eyes on Draco as he answered. "Only Draco and myself."

Harry slowly stretched out his legs, pulled over a pillow and made himself comfortable against the footboard as he thought about that.

"No outside blow jobs, is that what you're saying, Severus?"

Snape was taken aback by how much Draco could sound like his father. "That's right."

"What else?"

Well, he had to give Draco points for persistence. "No outside penetration as well."

"What would happen if..."

Snape shrugged. "Again, all I have to go by is the literature, but it seems that penetration is impossible due to the softening nature of the...penetrator."

"So we can't get hard if it's someone else's mouth. And they lose their boner if they get too close to our arses."

"Indelicately put, Harry, but succinct."

"Our mouths as well?"

Snape nodded again. He wondered then decided against mentioning that the spell would also protect them from rape. Not from the effects of sexual frustration on a potential rapist, but at least from the humiliation of rape.

Draco leaned over and propped his chin on his elbows. The chill in his smile was the result of generations of Malfoys. Snape braced himself: his brat had cottoned on much more quickly than he would have thought.

"But that's not all, is it, Severus. What else does the spell bind?"

"It binds both of you to me."

"So we're more than your sex slaves."

Snape caught the wince at the slight bitterness in Harry's voice. Mind, the boy seemed quite at his ease, resting back against the footboard, ankles crossed, his arms folded over his chest. Compared to Draco, even his face seemed calmer, merely curious.

"I told you when you first woke up here, that the purpose of this time together was so that we could forge bonds. Yes, the bond is sexual, but it should also set up for our mutual protection. If we can turn only to ourselves for sexual satisfaction...something that I think neither of you can deny having from his partners?"

Draco scowled but Harry nodded.

"That in turn should augment the sense of trust..."

"TRUST!"

Harry leaned over and placed a calming hand on Draco. "Let him finish."

To Snape's surprise, Draco sat back and, though breathing hard, face fighting the anger he was feeling, he finally gestured to Snape that he should continue.

"Sexuality is the basis of many a union that eventually leads to trust, among other things. I'm hoping that our situation will as well." He leaned over so that he stared into Draco's eyes. "We are at war. No matter who agrees or not, that is the truth of the situation. Another truth is that Harry, for some reason, has been selected by Fate to be our only chance at winning this war. But he cannot do it by himself. I can help with as much information as I can gather, but that means I cannot continuously be at Harry's side. He needs someone to protect his back. And Fate has decreed that you are to be that someone."

He glanced at Harry who seemed to be taking this all too well. Where was the infamous Potter anger?

"According to the literature, this spell allows for more than sexual fidelity among us. It can also help maintain our ties, help us work far more effectively with each other. In anecdotal evidence, there are some who maintained they could eventually ‘hear' each other at a distance."

"ESP?"

Snape looked at Harry. "What?"

"Extra-sensory perception. We can sense each other's thoughts, feelings. Stuff like that."

"Maybe. I don't know. As I said, the evidence is anecdotal and many centuries old."

Draco chewed on his lower lip, obviously ruminating over something. "You're the only one who came in us. Harry and I, we didn't come in each other. Not once since we've been here. By hand. In mouth, but never in arse."

"Yes."

"I seem to remember you saying, when we first got here, that our cum belonged to you, our arses as well. Does that make you the master?"

"I think I prefer mentor to master."

"But the boss," insisted Harry.

"Yes," agreed Snape.

"You give orders and we obey, is that it?" snarled Draco.

Snape wasn't about to lie to them. "If I so determine, yes."

"And we're expected to obey, just like that?"

"I believe the spell will aid in that obedience."

"Aid only? Because?" asked Harry.

"Because," said Snape, wanting them to understand, "you will trust me to have your best interests at heart. Because you know I want the both of you to survive. And because of that, you will know that any order I give will be to your benefit."

"And that's going to be your excuse for ordering us around," Harry mocked.

Snape nodded, ignoring the tone.

"Like you needed one," muttered his Gryffindor.

Draco leaned back, his eyes raised to the canopy. Harry's glance flickered between Snape and Draco, as though trying to read minds from faces.

"Shit," Draco finally said. "The sex had bloody well better be worth all that."

"Amen," said Harry.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

And far too peaceful.

Snape's nerves were twitching as though he were in the midst of reporting to the Inner Circle, waiting for some voice to denounce him, instead of here, secreted away in the Chamber, with two brats who were studiously working away on the last of their Christmas assignments.

He pretended to be reading yet another journal while he waited. Something was most definitely not right with the picture in front of him. It couldn't be!

Bloody hell, when he'd been seventeen, if anyone, especially a hated professor, had told him that he was bound to the man, and sexually at that, he'd have blown them both up. And literally at that!

At the very least, there would have been threats, hexes, curses.

Not this apparently calm acceptance of the situation.

Other than a few questions, a comment about how the sex had better be worth it, that had been about it for the response of his two highly temperamental, volatile brats.

What the hell was wrong with them?

All that had happened after their discussion was that each had found his bed, unasked to do so by Snape. He'd intended for them to spend the night – if night it was – in his bed with him. They hadn't allowed him time to ask.

Mind, the pallets had mysteriously moved again. Further apart than closer. And that by seemingly mutual unspoken agreement.

Draco had merely pulled the cover over his shoulder and drifted off to sleep. Harry had yawned a few times, settled his glasses on the ridge that was slightly higher than his pallet, cocooned himself into his cover and had soon dropped off.

Snape had propped himself up in bed and just looked at them. He had known that he was missing something, but even now, the next day, he still hadn't been able to put his finger on it. Instead, here he was, pretending to be involved in the most asinine article ever to deign the inside of a reputedly respected professional journal.

Oh, the morning rituals had taken place without a hitch. The boys had awakened, showered, allowed him to feed them, but without the usual mouth play.

Was that to be the only consequence?

Snape had noted that neither of his brats looked nor talked directly to the other. But that wasn't all that different from their usual morning behaviour. They were both very polite with him, though he had noticed that Draco hadn't called him ‘Severus'.

He just couldn't shake the notion that he had missed something. Something big.

And that the world was about to explode around him.

A bloody sex slave!

That's all that this was about? Snape getting himself a couple of sex slaves?

Fucking shit! For that, he had rejected his family? So that he would be at the beck and call of that turncoat, Severus Snape? To be his arsehole?

And as if that wasn't bad enough, he had bloody Harry ‘Suck-my-cock' Potter to put up with as well?

For all this, he had put his life on the line. He had turned his back on his family, the Malfoy influence, the Malfoy vaults. And this was the thanks he got?

And, of course, no one had thought it important to ask him if this was something he wanted.

Well, all right, he had wanted Snape's cock. Trust the bastard to have ruined him for the rest of his sex life, should he ever have one. Well, one that didn't involve ‘the Rod' and ‘the Mouth'. Yes, sure, so far the sex had been incredible. He didn't need tons of experience to know that he'd lucked out on a good thing here. But still, what if he decided he wanted someone else's mouth on him? Someone else's cock in him?

Hell, variety was the spice of life. He knew that. Fuck it, he was seventeen. Why wouldn't he like a little variety? Even his father hadn't been tied down to his mother until they'd both been twenty. His father had certainly known variety before his parents' marriage. Hell, he'd known it during as well, but at least he'd waited until Draco had been born. That's what Goyle had told him, one night in Third Year, when they'd polished off the bottle of brandy Draco had snuck into their dorm. That he'd stolen from his father's cellar.

He'd been ordered beaten for that by his father. Not for having taken the bottle of brandy but for having gone down to the cellars by himself to do so. A Malfoy never dirtied his hands with actual thief, his father had explained as he'd counted the blows landing on his back, meted out by a very minor, very poor member of the family who'd lived on Malfoy sufferance. As his father had commented, between counts, that's what house elves were for.

The fact that said house elf would have been killed by Lucius Malfoy himself for doing so – even if it had instructions to obey any direct order issued by anyone with the Malfoy name – had had some bearing upon Draco's action. After that occasion, he'd still stolen from his father's cellar, but he'd never again shared with either of his two wardens. Up until then, he had believed his father's telling him that Crabbe and Goyle had been assigned to him as bodyguards, to see to it that no one made his life a misery. He knew better after that.

Actually, he'd never shared anything with anyone after that lesson had been beaten into the skin of his back.

His mother hadn't said anything: she never did. But, via some spell, she had sent an ointment to his room that had helped defuse the pain.

But here he was, being forced to share. With someone he hated, had hated, and was right to hate.

Once more he was nothing. Except for reminding him of the importance of the Malfoy name or for particular orders, he might as well not have existed to his father. He knew that his father considered him too sensitive, not hard, not tough enough to carry the family name. A failure.

His mother barely acknowledged him these last few years. Not that she'd paid much attention to him before but, now and then, she had. And it had made Draco feel like...

He had the fondest memories of the Quidditch Cup when she had insisted he accompany her to all the festivities. And he'd felt so honoured that she had challenged his father about that. He had loved her so much then that he'd thought his heart would break.

But then the Death Mark reappeared and it was as though he no longer existed for her. And his heart did break.

He looked up from his Charms textbook.

This bondage thing might not have been so bad if he hadn't to share Snape with fucking Harry Potter.

Why the hell was that prick getting all the attention? You'd think that his Head of House would pay a little more attention to a fellow Slytherin than a bloody Gryffindor. What was he, Draco, going to get out of all this? A major cock up his arse and maybe, if he were lucky, another of those spankings that went right to his cock.

What was so great about Potter that he got the necking sessions and the cuddling?

Not that he, Draco Malfoy, was susceptible to such things.

But it would have been nice if...

Harry tried to focus on the chapter dealing with the Wizards' Council gatherings that led to the defining of just who could be considered to be eligible to deal with wizard government.

It wasn't easy because, for the first time since they'd gotten here, he had a headache. He was used to having headaches these past months. He got them often enough whenever Voldemort was up to something, and he was up to something fairly frequently of late. But this was the first since he'd wakened in the Chamber and he knew why he had it.

Once more his fate had been decided from Without and without any input from himself.

Hell, he should be used to it by now. No one had asked him if he'd wanted to be dumped on his Muggle relatives. Mind, no one had asked them if they'd wanted him, so he supposed it was a fair balance.

No one had asked him if he'd wanted to be the Boy Who Lived. Some of his fellow students seemed to see only his scar and think that it was something he'd wanted, that he enjoyed having. As if! It was bad enough that, every year, the new kids looked at him as though they were expecting him to do something bizarre at any time. Add to that the fact that the kids he'd been with since his first day either thought he was trying to be a celebrity, or that he was crazy. Or that he thought himself better than them because of the bloody scar on his forehead.

And that Prophecy! Why the hell couldn't it have been Neville and not him! Hell, Neville had as good a chance of getting rid of Voldemort. All they had to do was get him into Snape's classroom and near Neville's cauldron. Neville could easily blow up cauldron and Voldemort in one classroom session!

No, instead, it was all up to Harry. And because of the bloody scar, his life had been determined for him. And because of it, Cedric Diggory had died. Sirius had died. And the Order had decided...

Fuck that. The Order hadn't decided: Albus Dumbledore had! It was the Headmaster who had decided that Harry was to spend his summers with Muggles who hated him more and more with each enforced stay. When Arthur and Molly Weasley would have been delighted to have him. And he wouldn't have been treated like the carrier of some epidemic.

Like Dumbledore had decided he'd needed Occlumency lessons. And from Snape, who hated...

Well, maybe it hadn't been real hate: just irritation that Harry had been dumped on him.

Maybe... Maybe Arthur and Molly hadn't really wanted him. Maybe they'd only pretended they had because... Had Dumbledore told them to take him those weeks and times they had?

Harry shook his head: he couldn't think like that. It would drive him crazy. Just because the Dursleys hadn't wanted him...

Snape...now Snape seemed to have changed his mind about Harry. That kissing lesson, holding him after he'd come in Draco...

After he'd activated the binding spell...

Then Harry remembered that Snape had said that he hadn't been all that keen on this ‘assignment'. That he had been basically ordered to take Harry and Draco on.

So, it wasn't as though Snape had had any choice. They'd been dumped on him.

Harry had been dumped on him and Snape was only making the best of a bad thing.

He felt himself pull back as he had whenever things had gotten ‘difficult' in the Dursley household.

Why would he have thought, even for a few minutes, that...

Harry's skin itched. He scratched, aware of the fact that it wouldn't appease the nerves twitching beneath his skin. He knew this feeling. Usually, when it came upon him, he'd grab his Firebolt and spend hours over the Quidditch pitch, chasing a couple of Snitches until he was soaked to the skin. Even then, he usually kept on so that when he finally did land, his legs felt like spaghetti and he had trouble making it back to his dorm and a shower.

Usually Harry spent a lot of Christmas hols doing that, flying, catching Snitches and staggering back to the Gryffindor dorm. He did it because it helped. Maybe he didn't have much control over his everyday existence, but he could control the Firebolt and he did catch the Snitches if only to release them and begin all over again.

He had no idea how long they had truly been down here, in the Chamber, but he hadn't spent this much time inactive since he'd learnt to run away from Dudley and his pals.

Of course, bloody Draco Malfoy didn't seem to be affected by the lack of physical activity. Apart from Quidditch, Malfoy was rarely seen expending any kind of physical energy. Harry guessed that had been bred out of the Malfoy genes, if it had ever been there.

Oh, the prat was a good Seeker. But he wasn't as good as Harry because Harry worked at it. A lot.

He scratched the skin on a shoulder and wondered what the weather was like out there.

"Oh, bloody hell!"

Harry looked up from his Charms textbook. Malfoy was scowling. Someone should tell him it made his pretty looks less pretty.

"How can I be expected to get this assignment done without my wand?"

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Harry snarled. "Do it like you do everything else during the summer. Order someone to do it for you."

"What are you talking about?"

Harry sat up. "Like you get some kind of special dispensation?"

Draco placed his book down and also sat up. He was in no better mood than Potter seemed to be by the tone of his voice. What the hell did he have to bitch about?

"I," said Draco, at his most Malfoy, "have no idea what you are talking about. But that's not new."

"I mean," Harry got to his knees, "this whining about not being able to use your wand. You can't use it away from Hogwarts, so don't act like you've never done without it."

Draco copied Potter's movement and sneer. "Maybe the great Harry Potter can't use it away from Hogwarts, but I can assure you that, since I was given my wand, I have never been disallowed its use."

Harry was stunned. "What do you mean, you haven't been ‘disallowed'? It's against the rules. Section 13. International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy."

He could quote it chapter and verse: he'd received enough letters from the Improper Use of Magic Department that he'd actually looked it up in the rule books.

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that!"

Draco allowed his sneer to fade into outright mockery. "That has nothing to do with pureblood families. The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery was initiated for those who were less than pureblood, Potter. Surely you would know that if you... But you're not, are you, Potter? A pureblood. So I guess we can chalk it up to yet another thing you don't know about wizardry."

Snape came out of the shower area just in time to see Harry literally leap across the space separating him from Draco, hands outstretched, fingers clawed. No sooner had he grasped Draco when Draco's fist came up to make loud contact with the side of Harry's head.

He was so stunned by the violence of the attack and counterattack that Snape could only stand there, towel in hand, mouth agape. By the time he snapped out of it, racing for his bed and his wand, they were rolling on the ground, fighting tooth and nail. And that literally as well.

"HARRY! DRACO!"

But they either didn't hear him or, if they did, weren't listening. The blood splattering on both of them made him snarl the spell that re-activated the bindings that should have yanked them both to their separate snakes. The lined manacles did appear on both brats' wrists and ankles. It did look as though something was trying to separate them. But the level of their anger, their determination to pound the other into the ground overcame the power of that spell.

Fuck! What a time for the Magic of the Chamber to feed into them!

"STUPIFY!"

It worked but, to Snape's astonishment, only partially. Their blows became sluggish and landed with less damaging effect. It did, however, give Snape the opportunity to approach them without fear of being drawn in and to cast a stronger separation spell, one that was usually used on hippogriffs in rut, bent on rending each other apart.

This time, chains appeared, attaching themselves to the manacles, and managed to pull his brats apart, each to hang suspended from his particular snake.

It didn't have an effect for very long. Oh, they were unable to release themselves but that didn't stop the profanities. Thankfully, both brats were too angry to think of using actual curses. Snape spelled them gagged before they could think of it and connect once more into the Power. There had been enough damage caused: he didn't want to counteract hexes on top of everything.

Snape slouched in his chair and looked upon the two boys with concern. Their anger had finally dropped to levels where the spells he cast on them worked. They were now sagging in their bounds, scratches, bites, bruises, black eyes and broken noses healed, under the influence of Morpheus. He could only hope that when they awoke, they would not remember how they had been able to withstand those first spells he'd cast.

He'd had to wait long minutes for their struggles against the bindings to diminish. The hatred in their glares had been directed at each other, not at him – it was as though he truly hadn't existed – with levels that told Snape there was more to this than whatever had set them off this time.

So much anger and so much hatred. So much frustration.

So very much like himself at their age.

He rubbed his face and wondered at the fact that, as Binns liked to point out, history did indeed repeat itself.

Once they'd responded to his spells, Snape had gotten dressed. Full gear. Multi-buttoned suit, boots, robe. He needed nothing to distract him as he thought this out.

Snape knew why his Magic was stronger in the Chamber, a fact that he had managed successfully to hide from Dumbledore.

After Harry's previous visit to the Chamber, Dumbledore had sent him down to deal with the carcass of the Basilisk. The skin of the beast was priceless and would guarantee that any repairs required to keep Hogwarts going could be easily covered for the next several hundred years. Snape had been reaching for something out of his range when the item had simply come to him.

He'd experimented with several other small magics and had been astonished to discover that his Magic seemed to grow in intensity when he'd spent some hours in the Chamber. His Magic. But not that of Dumbledore, who had spent some time inspecting the Chamber, with no discernible effect. Had there been, Snape doubted that he'd have been told the secret to entering the place – spells had replaced the Parseltongue – let alone allowed to work here.

He'd had to think about that as well, finally concluding that it was a matter of blood. Well, what Magic that old, so strong that it still existed a thousand years after being confined, did not have blood in it?

The Snapes were an ancient family, but so had been the Slytherins. Both had ended up specialising in ‘Defensive Magic', as it had then been known. They had intermarried as had all the old families, but there were more than the occasional mergers between these two families. Like Draco, Snape knew his genealogy and his went further back by more than a millennium.

Intermarriage between Wizard and Muggle had not been a big deal until Roman Christianity had won over the local version in the Seventh Century. That was also when local feeling began to turn against Magic. When pureblood marriages had gained the advantage. It was why Salazar had been so against the inclusion of Muggle-born here at Hogwarts. Merlin knew, there had been enough Church-sanctioned torture and death of anyone thought to have Magic in his time.

It was probably why Salazar had constructed the Chamber of Secrets. Maybe the other founders hadn't known about it – it had been a particularly Slytherin thing to construct here in the foundations – but it had obviously been used. Snape had read in a book of his grandfather's that there had been rumours of a secret Salazar-led ‘society' that had as its goal the exclusion of any non-pureblood from any Magic. Tom Riddle had probably read something about that as well: his ‘organization' had similar goals.

Snape had had no real trouble in gaining access to the Chamber whenever he'd wanted. Myrtle had not been all that fond of Dumbledore as an instructor. He had often chastised her ‘flightiness' in class and had ignored her the few times he'd gone through her washroom, down to inspect the Chamber.

Snape had not. Once he'd understood the Power in the Chamber, he'd gone to the extent of befriending Myrtle. On his nightly rounds, he'd included a short visit to the haunted washroom. Not long, just a few minutes to inquire as to whether there had been any student loitering when she shouldn't have, or if Miss Granger had taken it upon herself to stew more Polyjuice. He'd recognised the distinctive aroma which Miss Granger had not thought of eliminating before they'd vacated the premises.

And, when Myrtle had complained to him about how bored she was, he'd found a way of converting the Daily Prophet and Witches Weekly into a format that she could read.

It hadn't been all that hard. Just a transfiguration spell as he incinerated the newspapers and magazines that he brought her once a month, making certain afterwards that he left no accusing aroma behind. But the payoff had been enormous. Myrtle had kept his secret visits to the Chamber just that, secret. And she kept an eye out for him. Once, when he had been about to return, she swooped down the pipes to warn him that Filch and Mrs. Norris were up above and that Filch was nattering on about how Dumbledore had bees in his bonnet, that no one used the bloody – she'd actually stuttered as she'd said that – loo and why did he have to add it to his round of inspections. After that, Snape had included whatever magazines he'd confiscated from students to his payment.

He had carefully avoided coming down to the Chamber until Filch had gotten bored with a nightly inspection of a place only a ghost haunted. And so his secret had remained safe from Dumbledore.

In the Chamber, his familial links to Salazar Slytherin and his Power had increased his own. And, once, he'd come down after returning from a session with Voldemort, his body still suffering from the aftereffects of Cruciatus, and had felt the Magic of the Chamber ease his pain. He was replenished by his visits though he took great care never to reveal that fact. He had no idea what this much consecutive time in the place would do to his Magic.

Draco, through the Malfoy marriage lines, also had Slytherin blood in him. Not all that much and not from the oldest and therefore strongest lines, but enough so that it would make sense that his Magic would also respond to Salazar's.

He was not all that surprised that Harry could tap into the Magic of the Chamber. After all, the Hat had wanted to sort him into Slytherin. There had to be something there. Snape made a mental note to check into the Potter marriage lines when he had time.

Moreover, Harry was, not that he knew it, far more powerful at his age than most adult wizards who had been practising for decades.

But the level, the intensity...that was not what Snape had expected. The air had fairly crackled around the two as they'd rolled on the ground. And once separated, that crackle had remained. And not just around Harry.

Snape stood and went to see how his brats were doing. Their breathing was regular and he had removed the gags once he'd been absolutely certain that Morpheus had worked.

All that anger. All that emotion. And so deep within them.

So dangerous.

And not just Harry's, Draco's as well.

Snape needed to deal with that. Needed to discover just what the cause of all that deep anger was. In both his brats.

The Prophecy said that these two had to work together in order that Voldemort be defeated. If they actually became that unit, with all that powerful anger in them, there was a good chance their world would not survive its saving.

The light hurt Draco's eyes. From the way Potter was squinting, it must be hurting his as well. Probably for the same reason, a headache the size of Europe.

It took a while before he noticed Snape. Standing offside, watching them.

Draco found himself gulping. This was not Severus, the head of their sexual triad: this was Professor Snape, the man who tore strips off students for daring to add powered aconite rather than ground.

Draco closed his eyes and tried not to moan: his head couldn't take it. And, damn, no longer protected by his father's connection to the Minister for Magic, he had an idea that he was going to be on the receiving end of a discourse that would leave him hoping for a quick death.

Pray Merlin that Snape wouldn't start yelling right away. Mind, if he did, Draco's death would come only that much sooner.

But when, after what seemed to be an eternity, Snape still hadn't made any kind of comment, Draco slitted his eyes open to see just what was up. That's when he noticed that Potter was hanging not from magical cord but from chains. After a moment, he assumed he was as well, not that he could lift his head enough to verify for himself. Not without it falling off.

Ah, shit! That did not bode well. Not at all.

He tried to remember what had occurred that they were once more hanging from Salazar's snakes, but the pounding in his head made it hard to concentrate. He found he was actually thankful for the chains holding him up since he doubted that, on his own, he would have been able to remain upright. What the hell had happened?

He'd been studying Charms, bemoaning the fact that it was impossible to try them out without a wand and...

And...

And fucking Potter had gone berserk!

Oh, damn! His head!

He'd better stay calm or he'd really lose the thing. Damn, but he'd seen flashes there for a bit. No more emotion. Not good, emotion. That's what his father had said oh, so often.

It took even longer minutes before he dared open his eyes again. This time Snape had moved. To right in front of them. He had his arms crossed over his chest, wand in hand. And he looked pissed off. Not just a little, but primed. Usually Longbottom was the target of such a look, but right now it seemed Snape was sharing it between Potter and himself.

What the fuck! He had only been defending himself. Well, he might have found a different way of dealing with Potter's attack, but, hell, why should Sweet Baby Hal not get a taste of what he was handing out?

Mind, didn't look like Snape was going to accept that defense. Should he even be allowed to present one.

Oh, fuck. He was so dead!

Harry sagged more into the chains, pretending to be less aware than he was. Not that he was pretending by much. Shit! What the hell had he been hit with? He was certain that his head was hanging onto his shoulders by a thread.

Who would have thought that Pretty Face Malfoy could actually fight? Not all that well, but then, what had that mattered when his teeth were more than able to dig into Harry's shoulder and stay there. And Harry's groin still ached from the knee that Malfoy had planted there with all his strength.

Maybe it was a good thing he was queer: the way he felt now, he seriously doubted that there would be little Potters joining the wizardry population.

And why was Snape rigged out the way he was? Wasn't the first time he and Malfoy had attempted to punch each other out.

Oh, what the hell, they were back to the Greasy Git and why had he expected more?

But why the headache? He couldn't remember Malfoy landing a hit hard enough for his head to feel this way.

Harry carefully checked out Snape before shifting his focus to Malfoy, who was simply hanging loose from his chains.

Chains. Chains?

All because he had responded to Malfoy's snitty crack about purebloods?

All right, maybe he'd over-reacted, but the shit had been asking for it and he, Harry Potter, had been delighted to give it to him. So he supposed that, once more, Gryffindor was going to be accused of instigation while Slytherin was going to be coddled and...

He caught the scowl on Snape's face directed not just at himself but at Malfoy as well.

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Oh, man, this was serious.

Go To Part 7

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