Walking softly to the bedroom door, he opened it... and all the blood in his body immediately rushed from his head, heading south and directly where Severus did not want it to go, especially not with a mostly naked teenage boy in his bed.  Harry was sitting in a position Severus had seen him use many times, on his knees, his legs bent back with his hands resting, palms open, on his bare knees.  He was wearing one of Severus’ cotton, button-ups, open half down his chest, sliding off one shoulder.  It was just sheer enough that Severus could be certain there was nothing under it.

Harry shifted and Severus’ heart skipped a beat as the boy moved to place his hands on the bed and sat up, his arse in the air before slowly lowering himself onto his stomach.  He had done that many times over the course of the week.  Harry seemed to like laying on his stomach, whether he was going to bed, or just lounging around, but the deliberate movement and the half smile on the boy’s face conspired to let Severus know that this had nothing to do with taking a nap.  This was an invitation.

“Hi, Severus.”

His attention was drawn to the boy’s mouth in its quirked, seductive smile.  In all the hours that he had watched Harry, he’d never seen anything that hinted at that.  Harry had a kind of infectious smile that Severus had to fight hard not to return.  This smile reminded him very much of a devious Malfoy, closing in on a conquest.

Actually, that was exactly what it reminded him of.  Malfoy.  Damnit, the brat had been at it again.  He’d been teaching Harry things.  Last time he’d done that, Harry had told Severus he thought he had a very big penis.  It had taken an hour of round about questioning to find out that Draco had been trying to explain the importance of large breast size for women and had equated it to the way men felt about their penis.  That hadn’t made it any better, because Harry had been entirely unaware that penis size was important to men, so all he’d come out of the conversation with was that telling someone they had a large penis was a compliment.

Severus made a mental note to add a clause in Malfoy’s apprenticeship papers that said he was never to become a teacher.  Storming over to the bed, he kept his gaze purposefully fixed on Harry’s eyes rather than the pale cheeks of his exposed arse as he pulled the cover up and over them.  The object of temptation hidden, he crossed his arms over his chest, “Stop doing whatever it is that you think you are doing.”

The seductive smile immediately melted into a familiar pout.  “Don’t you like it?”  Severus pursed his lips and his fists clenched tighter.  Harry’s lower lip quivered slightly.  “Don’t you want me?”

Oh, good god, the boy was going to cry.  Severus was not prepared for the power that had over him.  In all his years as a teacher, making children cry had been an accomplishment, but this was not about the incompetence of a student, or even delinquent behavior.  This was about a boy who had not been even remotely intimidated by a single display of authority from Severus becoming upset because he thought he had failed at something that, quite frankly, he hadn’t.  The little display had worked far too well, the evidence of which was hidden by the voluminous robes Severus had not yet taken off.

Taking a step back, Severus sat in the chair and looked apprehensively at Harry, whose eyes were starting to glisten.  “This is not about what I want, Harry.  What do you want?”

The lip stopped quivering and the eyes went from soulful and hurt to confused in less than the blink of an eye.  “What do I want?”

“Yes, Harry, what do you want?  It’s a very simple question.”

 Where most of the teenagers he had taught would have been offended by the sarcastic remark, Harry only bit his lip thoughtfully, before answering,  “I want you.”

“How, exactly, do you know that?”  He didn’t wait for Harry’s response before continuing.  “How many people have you slept with?”

Without hesitation, Harry held up two fingers, bowing his head so that his bangs hid his eyes.  “Two - Tom and Mister Malfoy.  Almost Mister Pettigrew, but Tom walked in on us and I had to wait in the bathroom. There was a lot of screaming.”  Harry looked up again, his brows drawn together. “He didn’t seem very interested after that.”

Indeed, little Peter would not have. When Black had caught and killed his former best friend two years ago, they had been surprised at the number of old wounds on him.   Scars and marks in themselves were not unusual considering the way Voldemort handled his Death Eaters, but castration was unheard of in the ranks.  Many men were willing to risk death and even torture for power, but very few were willing to risk their manhood.  According to the post-mortem examination it had happened some years prior, at least more than three.

Thinking of Black - specifically about Black’s reaction when he found out Harry was alive - helped him to will away his persistent erection.  Severus almost smiled as his thoughts turned to exactly how disappointed the Auror would be when he found out what Pettigrew had tried to do and that Black had not performed the castration himself.

“Severus?”

Pulling himself out of the comforting thoughts, he noticed that Harry had sat up and was once again kneeling on the bed, though his feet were apart and his hands were on the hem of the shirt, holding it down against his legs in an almost self-conscious fashion.  Perhaps he was getting through to the boy, after all.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “Did you like sleeping with them?”

Harry frowned and shrugged, “Not really.  It wasn’t bad, not after a while.”  There was nothing in his tone that said he found anything wrong with this.  Harry looked up and met Severus’ eyes. “I wanted to please Tom, and I wanted to do what I was told, but I didn’t want them, not like I want you.”

Severus nodded slowly and stood up, walking over to Harry and looked down at him sternly, “In your entire life, you have slept with two men, both of which are old enough to be your father.”  Harry opened his mouth to protest, but at Severus’ raised eyebrow shut it again.  “Before you go deciding that I’m what you want, perhaps you should try being with someone your own age.  Perhaps even a girl.”

It was a very simply psychosis, really.  Severus had rescued Harry and Harry had latched onto him.  He saw Severus as his savior and was confusing gratitude with other feelings.  For all his years as a spy, Severus had never been directly involved in rescuing someone and he’d certainly never been on the receiving end of this kind of thing, but he’d heard about it, from Black and Lupin and even little Nymphadora.

 All he had to do was get Harry to fixate on something else, distract him from this single-minded approach.  In a while, he’d forget all about wanted the cranky old Potions Master and move onto a more appropriate target.  Why, given time, he might even become an accomplished skirt chaser like his father.

Severus saw the concentrated crease of Harry’s forehead and very nearly laughed at the idea of Harry being anything like his father.  The physical resemblance was uncanny, but it stopped there.

Harry’s attention suddenly turned back to him, his nose scrunched in distaste, and Severus raised an eyebrow, ready for whatever question was about to be thrown at him.

“Severus, how do girls... do it?”

Except for that one.

*****

Harry laid on the bed with his head on Severus chest, listening to his steady heart beat and staring at the ceiling.  Girl were... weird.  According to Severus they had a hole that he’d called a vagina and it lubricated itself.  All you had to do to get one wet was to fondle a breast or kiss them for a while.

He tried to imagine what that would be like - if he had a self-lubricated hole.  It might be less painful, but wouldn’t it feel strange?  What if he got wet at some inappropriate time?  Not to mention the breast fondling.  Mister Malfoy had seemed to like Harry’s nipples.  At times the man would spend several minutes pinching them until they were bright red and swollen, but that hadn’t particularly felt good, just kind of painful and uncomfortable.

Harry cuddled further into Severus’ arms.  The idea of girls scared him a little.  They sounded... messy, and kind of dangerous if what Severus said about their mood swings was accurate.  He suspected it was, because there had been a few girls among the children that played around Master’s house and sometimes one of them would start crying and he could never figure out why.  Then there were the clothes they wore, all frilly and bulky and how could anyone even move in all that fabric, but then sometimes they wore things that didn’t have hardly any fabric to them all.

Not a girl, then.  He let himself slip into half sleep.  He’d have to find a boy his age, one that was reasonably attractive or Severus would accuse him of not even trying.  The only problem was who, because he couldn’t very well go scouting around the school for a suitable candidate.

He shuddered at the thought and was pleased when Severus’ arm unconsciously tightened a little around him.  Then again, even if he were brave enough to walk around with all those people looking at him, what would he say?  He’d never exactly had to proposition someone for sex before.  Not only that, but Severus had said most boys preferred girls.  What if he accidentally approached the wrong person?

Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, smiling at the strong smell of soap coming off Severus’ chest.  No, he needed a boy, one that was attracted to other boys, moderately attractive, and that Harry already knew.  His smile widened as he realized that he knew just the person.

*****

Voldemort sat on the bed in his accommodations at Malfoy manor, propped up on the monstrosity of a headboard.  He’d been there for a week and, to be quite honest, he was disappointed.  It wasn’t that his suite wasn’t opulent enough, or that the food wasn’t magnificently prepared and immaculately served, and there wasn’t anything that he particularly needed that wasn’t being provided. 

It was simply that he missed his pet, but then, why shouldn’t he?  He’d raised it.  There hadn’t been a time in fourteen years that he hadn’t come home to it, hadn’t had it there to listen to him rant, hadn’t been graced almost daily with its blinding smile, hadn’t had to listen to the keening little whines it made in its sleep or feel its hands as it searched for something to hold onto in its sleep.

He’d always thought that if anything happened to it, he might be glad it was gone.  Certainly it would be one less thing he had to worry about.  However, that wasn’t the case.  He was finding he couldn’t sleep, he didn’t enjoy his meals, even planning his next strategy was more difficult without his pet’s head resting on his thigh.

Running a hand over the sheets under him, he breathed in the traces of coconut scent lingering on them.  He’d had Lucius return to his home and bring back whatever was salvageable.  His books and maps had been confiscated, his notes were gone as well, but there were other things.  There was the chair his pet had spent hours in, reading books that it had hidden under the cushions, foolishly thinking its Master didn’t know about them.  The bed itself had been damaged, but the sheets and quilts had been brought over, as well as the large cage that had sat at the end of his bed for so long.

He remembered making that cage.  He remembered the first time he’d left his pet in it.  It had cried, reaching out for him, begging with its eyes to be taken out, though never with words, because it hadn’t talked much at only two.  It had only taken ten minutes for it to calm down and fall asleep, hiccoughing softly in its sleep.  After that, there had been no more tears over the cage.  It had always been so complacent, adapting to every situation with minimal fuss.

Voldemort clenched the sheet in his fist and frowned.  It wasn’t dead, he knew that much.  The mark he’d put on it allowed him to sense its life force.  So he knew it was alive, but he didn’t know where, or in what condition.  Severus had said he’d gotten there and hadn’t been able to find it, whatever it was.

If it had been there, Severus would have seen it, so at some point during the attack, it had been taken from its room - taken, because Voldemort knew it well enough to know that it never would have left voluntarily.  ‘By who?’ was the question.  Who had been cunning and powerful enough to sneak into his stronghold?  Who would have thought to go into his bedchamber and, once there, who would have thought to take the thing they found inside?

Of course, they wouldn’t have thought of it as a thing.  They would have seen it as a child, but Voldemort knew better, he’d raised it, trained it, made it what it was.  It would wait for him and he would find it.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the thrum of the connection, the way it beat like a heart, the smell of the sheets.  He could almost imagine it was lying next to him, warm and noisy, laughing softly in those few moments just before sleep...

“My Lord!”  The door to his room burst open and he straightened up just in time to see Tibby come tumbling in, Malfoy at her heals.  She stood up, her ears bent down in shame, shaking and shrinking in on herself.   “My Lord, I apologize for disturbing you, but there’s something I think you should hear.”

For Malfoy to sound that proud of himself, Voldemort didn’t doubt it would be well worth his time.  Tibby shook harder, mumbling to herself about being a bad house elf and punishments.  Come to think of it, she had looked a little worse for the wear lately.   Her hands were forever bandaged, her ears crooked, just yesterday she’d been limping.  He’d thought it was perhaps the other house elves, initiating Tibby into their way of doing things, because Tibby didn’t often punish herself and certainly not to that extreme.

Voldemort stood from bed, his expression carefully neutral as he regarded her.  “Tibby, what is he talking about?  What have you done?”

Tibby made a distressed cry and wrung her ear in her hands.   Voldemort distinctly saw blood on her fingers.   Interesting.

Lucius smiled down at the elf, the very picture of evil.  “Tibby acquired information a few days ago that she has neglected to share with you.  Haven’t you, Tibby?”

“Tibby swore, Tibby promised.  Tibby wanted to, but she couldn’t.  She punished herself, she did.”  She held out her hands and Voldemort barely held back a grimace at the black and blue state of them.  “Wanted to tell Master, but she swore.”

Crouching down, Voldemort put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him.  “What were you told?”

She sniffed and tears bubbled up from under her large eyes.   “It’s Master’s pet.  Master’s pet is alive.”  He narrowed his eyes at her, waiting with patience that could only be learned from raising a child, his child, his pet.  “Master’s Pet is at Hogwarts.”

-tbc-