Illusions

Illusions

*

Nights Stink

*

"Tell me again why I agreed to do this," Severus snorted. He leant back in his favourite armchair and sighed. "This is pure madness. Nothing good will ever come from this, I'm sure about that."

"Aw, don't be so pessimistic," chuckled Remus from what they both nowadays thought of as his armchair. "This is exactly what they both need. I think it's going along just fine, too. They're becoming friends."

"At least I'm not in danger of death every time Longbottom enters my classroom," the Slytherin remarked. "Longbottom's performance has got better, I have to admit that. Whether that's because he's actually learning something or because Draco's doing all the difficult work, well, that I do not know yet."

"Give the boy some credit," his companion said cheerfully. "I'm sure he actually has some skills for Potions; with his knowledge in Herbology he can't be such a disaster in Potions you claim he is. I bet he's just afraid of you. In my class he's always doing fine. Well, yes, he is rather clumsy, but with some work he always manages to learn whatever I'm trying to teach him in the end. The boy's not stupid, Severus, just afraid."

"Well, he certainly should be afraid," Severus replied dryly. "Despite what you obviously think, Lupin, I actually have better things to do than look after kids who can't tell a cauldron from a pot."

"He did pass his OWLs, didn't he?" asked Remus. "You never accept anybody with less than an O to the NEWT class, and yet he is there. He can't be a complete catastrophe, then."

"If it only was that simple," sighed the Potions Master. "I usually only accept 'O' students, true. However, this year there were so few of those that the Headmaster practically forced me to accept students with 'E's, too. Potter got an 'E' -- and so did Longbottom, if only just. So, I was forced to take them into the class."

"I'm sure Albus didn't do it only for Harry, if that's what you think," the werewolf mentioned. "True, he might favour some students over others, but he wouldn't go that far. If he made you accept students with lower grades than usually, that is only because students with your usual grades wouldn't make up a class big enough. So do not start your usual the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Prat rant again."

"Don't worry, I most certainly wasn't going to," said Severus, rolling his eyes. "I get enough of that brat in the classroom." He tapped the arm of his chair with his long fingers. "One of these days I'm most certainly going to check just what those two are doing on their tutoring lessons," he muttered then. "Draco's been suspiciously less reluctant to participate in this whole thing recently."

"Well, I think it's sweet," Remus said, grinning. "You know, I've caught Neville watching him in the classroom. That wouldn't be so exciting, if I hadn't caught Draco glancing back a couple of times."

"If Lucius catches wind of that, I'm dead," Severus sighed, wiping his hair away from his face. "Best friend or not, if he finds out that I am encouraging his perfect offspring to have any positive feelings towards Neville bloody Longbottom he won't hesitate to relieve me of my miserable life."

"Miserable, eh?" Remus raised an eyebrow, grinning in the extremely Gryffindor-ish way that always made Severus very annoyed. "And here I was thinking that I made your life at least tolerable."

"Hardly." Severus smirked. "The only way my life could become tolerable is that Potter kills the Dark Lord and then leaves Hogwarts for the rest of his life, and you trade jobs with me."

"You wish," the werewolf chuckled. "Not that I'm not willing to give you your dream job, but you know just as well as I do that I'm a disaster in Potions. There'd soon be just a big hole in the ground instead of a castle. So, for the well-being and safety of us all, I sadly have to refuse that deal."

"I could always tutor you," the Potions Master offered, still smirking. "I'm sure we could find some terms we could both agree on to make your learning experience... ahem... satisfying."

"As tempting as that offer is, again I have to refuse," laughed Remus. "Unlike Neville, I do not have any hidden Potions skills for you to coax out. So no, I don't think that'd help much to keep us all alive."

"At least we could go at the same time," Severus said. Then, he snorted. "You know, Lupin," he said, "I really don't know why I put up with you. It certainly isn't for the exciting conversation."

"Well, I really don't know why I put up with you, either," the Gryffindor replied cheerfully. "It clearly isn't for your friendliness or good looks. So, I think we're both in this for the same reasons. One being, it is no fun to make more or less evil schemes alone, despite what Voldemort thinks."

"And the other reason?" asked Severus. He watched attentively as the Gryffindor rose and walked nearer.

"Why, I thought that was obvious," said Remus, stopping in front of his once-enemy. Resting his hands on the arms of Severus's chair, he leant forward until his lips alomst touched the Slytherin's ear before murmuring, "We're doing this for the sex." Then, he planted a kiss on the other man's lips.

Severus, however, was not satisfied with simply that. He grasped on the werewolf's arms and pulled him down into his lap. Then he crushed his lips against those of the Gryffindor in a kiss that was happily returned. Starting to slowly open Remus's robes, he enjoyed the feel of gentle hands combing his hair.

Sooner rather than later, they decided to take their little activities into a more comfortable place.

*

Remus sighed, resting his head on the lean chest, enjoying the long, slender fingers going through his hair. "You know," he said softly, "this is almost the part I like best of all this."

"Really?" Severus raised an eyebrow. Remus didn't of course see it, seeing that his head was turned away from the Slytherin's face, but he still knew the raised eyebrow was there. "Should I be insulted?"

"I said, 'almost.'" Leaning back, Remus tucked his head under the Slytherin's chin. "I have to leave soon," he murmured. "We don't need any funny rumours, so it'll do no good if somebody sees me leave your quarters in the morning. It's well past curfew; there shouldn't be too many students around now."

"Forget it." Now, a pair of arms was fastened around Remus's waist. "I've just gotten warm and comfortable. I'll be damned if I let you leave now. You can wait until morning."

"But the students --" the werwolf started to protest, only to be silenced by a finger over his lips.

"I'll give you some Invisiblity Potion. Now, shut up and be warm." Then, one of the arms was removed from his waist as a hand reached down to draw the sheets over them both.

And, of course, leaving was now the one thing farthest from Remus's mind.

*

Unlike his godfather, Draco was having trouble with sleeping. This wasn't, however, due to the lack of a warm body in his bed (not that he would have minded, of course, he was a sixteen-year-old boy after all) but because he was deep in thought. Deep in some very disturbing thoughts, to be exact.

That day he had found the tutoring more difficult than usually. Not because the subject was harder, no; the potion they were working on was simpler than some they had already accomplished, and Nevill -- err, Longbottom had truly gotten better. But, well, that was the problem. If he got good enough to make it through the course on his own, the tutoring would end. And, in all honesty, Draco didn't want that.

Sure, he shouldn't think that. After all, Longbottom was a Gryffindor. He'd been Draco's main bullying target right after Potter and his stupid friends. But he had to admit that the tutoring sessions were... fun. There was simply no other way of saying it. Fun, and relaxing.

Longbottom -- oh, for Merlin's sake, Neville. Yeah, Neville. They were in first-name basis already -- of course only during the tutoring. Outside that private time they were still enemies. Anyway, Neville listened to Draco. He never made nasty comments, never questioned his opinions, never said that he should think or say or do this or that because he was a Malfoy or a Slytherin. And Neville would never tell his secrets to anybody, either; he was far too trustworthy and Gryffindor to do that. In his company Draco could forget his facade and be himself for a while. It was very relaxing.

However, it was certainly not relaxing to catch himself watching how a lonely strand the Gryffindor's hair fell onto his eyes no matter how many times he tried to brush it away. That Draco had noticed.

It wasn't that he was attracted to Neville, no; that'd be impossible, he did have that much of his Slytherin and Malfoy pride left. He just felt... comfortable with the other boy. It wasn't like he could look at any of the really good-looking boys in public or somebody would notice. So, he had to watch Neville. Even if the boy'd noticed something, he at least knew already that Draco liked boys. He wouldn't tell anybody.

Oh, bugger. Who did he think he was kidding anyway? So, he was attracted to the other boy. Something in his helplessness was simply enticing, and even more so were his rare moments of enlightments. Luckily those moments were becoming more and more frequent now that he was catching up with the andknowledge he was supposed to already possess. Oh, and of course there was the thousand times damned Gryffindor nature. In Potter and others it was simply irritating, as there didn't seem to be any true personality in any of them -- they were all just that, Gryffindors. But in Neville, the Gryffindor-ism was just a part of his own personality, a part that rarely showed up and thus wasn't too annoying to stand.

It could never lead to anything, of course. So, Neville wasn't anymore outright afraid of him, but still. For one, he probably didn't even like boys, and even if he did, he could never fall for a Slytherin. And besides, Lucius would kill them both if he found out. Yes, Draco did get well along with his father, but the said father had also told him dozens of times that he would have to marry a Pureblood girl and have an heir before he even tried to get a male lover. And if he did, that would be a secret. Nobody could ever know that the Malfoys weren't strictly heterosexual; it just didn't happen.

Oh, joy. Once again he was trapped in the things that were expected of him as the only heir of Malfoy. It was nice to have rich and powerful parents, yes -- otherwise his Father would still be in Azkaban -- but it was also hard to have the Name burden him. That was the part he hated. A lot.

It would have been better to stop thinking about it and just try to sleep. However, he couldn't do that, for his fear of actually succeeding. Draco was afraid of the potential nigthmares.

He'd fallen asleep once already. In the dream Neville had turned into a girl, they had got married, and Draco'd soon found himself with a couple of blonde mini-Luciuses clutching on his legs and calling him "Daddy". Voldemort had visited them for Sunday dinner and told Draco what a good evil minion he was.

That was exactly the life Lucius had planned for him. And that was exactly the life Draco didn't want.

...But how on Earth could he ever avoid that?

*