A Vial of Submission

Snape hadn't been able to find Potter anywhere and made a mental note to take a gratifying number of points off of Gryffindor the next day for wasting his time. He walked down the corridors, scowling at anyone and everyone. A third year Hufflepuff, who looked as though she'd had a rather trying day, threw herself into an empty classroom when she saw him approach.

Suddenly he was struck by a disturbing thought. What if Potter was raiding his supply cupboards like he had done in his second year?

He walked to his office as fast as he could without compromising his image.

"Draco," he said, surprised. It was then that he noticed that his Pensieve was out, and a stool that was most certainly not his. He stared at it. For the oddest reason it looked rather familiar to him. He tried to study it more closely but it was sitting in a damn shadow.

"Is that yours?" he asked Draco.

"I brought it," his godson said, looking rather odd. Snape barely even noticed that Draco was floating the Pensieve away. Draco babbled something as he picked up the stool and walked out of Snape's office.

Oh well. It was just a stool.

Now why was his godson in need of a Pensieve?

Before Snape retrieved the Pensieve he made himself a cup of tea. It was a little known fact that he drank tea before all events that lent themselves to be upsetting. Like Death Eater meetings and Gryffindor/Slytherin Potions classes. He was probably foolish for deliberately putting himself in harm's way, but he couldn't help himself. Draco had just looked so flustered. Rather flushed, in fact, as though he had just come from Quidditch practice or some other invigorating activity. Besides, he was Draco's godfather. It was his duty to do these sorts of things when they involved his godson.

Snape eyed the Pensieve thoughtfully and took a sip of tea. Obviously, Draco wasn't aware of the fact that extracted memories left traces, like skid marks, in a Pensieve. Naturally, he wouldn't be able to see exactly what Draco had been up to, but in all likelihood he'd get the gist. He swirled his wand in the silvery water, looking for a dull strand, a shadow of the memory Draco had put in and taken out.

Ah, there it was.

He pressed his face against the surface, and was sucked in the memory.

A minute later, he emerged screaming and ran for the loo, where he was violently ill.

--

Hermione was sitting on Harry's bed when he and Ron got back from Quidditch practice. Ron groaned.

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron grumbled. "Harry's fine, aren't you, mate?"

Harry nodded, smiling encouragingly at Hermione.

"I don't think that you understand just how vulnerable Harry is, Ron," Hermione said sternly. "People have died because of the Draught of Submission, you know." She turned to Harry. "You just can't go gallivanting around without protection. And that you won't even tell us where you were makes me think that something happened to you!"

"Hermione, honestly, I'm fine."

"No you're not!" Hermione said, practically shouting. "If you were you'd tell us where you really went!"

Harry flinched at the volume of her voice and stepped closer to Ron.

Hermione saw and looked pained.

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "There's something you should probably know, about me," he said, not able to look at either of them. He bit his lip. "I'm gay," he said softly, bowing his head.

"And?" Ron asked. "I mean, no offense mate, it's just a little random, don't you think?"

Harry blinked, and Hermione smiled at him. "It's not like in the Muggle World, Harry," she said.

"What's it like in the Muggle World?" Ron asked curiously. "Do you have to wear armbands like those other people?" He looked questioningly at Hermione, remembering the pictures she has shown him out of a book. "Muggles," he shuddered. "They're mad."

Hermione rolled his eyes. "Ron, that was the Holocaust," she said. "Honestly," she muttered. "In the Muggle World people aren't as accepting. Homosexuals are belittled, abused, and don't have the same civil rights as straight people."

Ron snorted.

"It isn't like that in the Wizarding World?" Harry asked, looking hopeful.

"Of course not," Ron said. "The Minister of Magic's gay, isn't he?" he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Fudge?" Harry gaped at the two of them. "Fudge?" he repeated. He was silent for a moment before looking up at Ron. "Are he and Percy you know..." he trailed off, blushing.

Ron looked rather green but nodded.

Harry looked at Hermione. "Hermione, I'm not going to tell you what I did, but I don't want you to worry. I'm fine." Hermione looked dubiously at him and he sighed. "Honestly, Hermione, I'm really, really fine." He smiled. "Okay?"

Hermione looked somewhat mollified when she left to go to bed. Dean and Neville had come in, inviting Harry and Ron for a game of Gobstones, but Harry declined. He was absolutely knackered. Between studying with Hermione, being shagged out of his mind, escaping Hermione's insistent questions, and Quidditch practice, he was ready for bed. He had set his glasses on his nightstand and pulled off his shirt when he heard a low whistle from the doorway.

"Getting ready, Harry?" Seamus purred. Harry reached for his glasses but Seamus was faster. "Accio glasses. You look so sweet without them, Harry."

Harry felt his pulse quicken. He could hear Seamus' approaching footsteps, but everything he saw was distorted. He felt terribly disoriented and sat down on his bed. "Give me back my glasses, Seamus," he said, his voice quivering.

"No can do, Harry. I like your eyes too much to have them hidden behind these ugly frames." He sat down on Harry's bed, putting his hand on Harry's thigh.

Harry leaned away from Seamus and turned his face. "Please stop," he said softly.

"Why?" Seamus asked, but he removed his hand.

"I...like someone else" Harry whispered, blushing furiously. Seamus was silent.

"Who?" he asked finally, handing Harry back his glasses.

"I can't say," Harry admitted. He blinked behind his frames at Seamus and gave him a small smile.

"Can't or won't?" Seamus asked slyly, tickling Harry's naked chest. Harry giggled and slapped at Seamus' hands.

"Is it a bloke?" Seamus asked, lying down.

Harry nodded and laid down next to him. "But I can't say who, and you can't tell anyone that I told you," he said urgently. "I haven't even told Ron and Hermione." He sighed. "And I don't even know if he really likes me."

Seamus nodded thoughtfully and then turned on his side to look at Harry. "Harry, you're bloody gorgeous and you scream innocent."

"I'm not that innocent," Harry muttered, blushing.

"You just need to play hard-to-get," Seamus said confidently, propping his head up with his hand.

Harry pondered this for a moment. "Will you help me?" Harry asked looking earnestly at Seamus.

Seamus grinned wickedly.

--

"Two hundred points from Gryffindor!" Snape thundered from the teachers' table when Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall the next morning. He stood up and pointed a finger at Harry.

Harry and Hermione looked stunned. The Gryffindors looked outraged, Hufflepuffs cried, Ravenclaws bowed their heads, and the Slytherins either left or got comfortable in their seats, waiting to see how the scene would unfold.

"What for?" Ron bellowed, his face burning.

"Yes, Severus, what for?" Professor McGonagall demanded, her eyes flashing at her former student.

Draco was one of those Slytherins who had stayed, expecting to enjoy a good Gryffindor beating. Then Snape shot him a look of poison.

"Shite," he whispered to Blaise. "He knows, he knows."

"Knows what?" Pansy asked distractedly. Her eyes were fixed on the furiously whispering Snape and McGonagall. McGonagall seemed to have won as she sat down, looking grimly satisfied, and Snape extremely disappointed.

"Nothing," Blaise and Draco said at the same time. Pansy looked at them oddly, and then Draco subtly dropped his fork on the floor.

Both he and Blaise dove under the Slytherin table and had a whispered conference.

Harry tried to catch Draco's eye, but Draco had disappeared under the table with Blaise. Was Blaise Draco's boyfriend? Harry bit his lip.

"There you are, Harry!" Seamus said loudly. Harry squeaked when Seamus picked him up by the waist and spun him in the air.

"Seamus!" Harry squealed, blushing. "Seamus, put me down!" Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, but Draco had still not surfaced. "He's not looking," he hissed.

"Potter!" Snape roared jumping to his feet again. "Two hundred points from Gryffindor for squealing like a girl!"

"Severus!" McGonagall shrieked. "Potter, two hundred points to Gryffindor for embracing your feminine side!"

"Two hundred points from Gryffindor for not brushing your hair, Potter!"

"Two hundred points to Gryffindor for having a well pressed robe, Potter!"

The students' eyes were fixed on the Gryffindor hourglass. A tornado of rubies swirled in the bottom. Dumbledore smiled gently at everyone and watched the points war his professors were waging with apparent interest.

Strands of hair had fallen out of Professor McGonagall's neat bun, and Snape's burning red face would do a Weasley proud. Both professors looked as though they could continue for ages, but a blinding flash startled them into silence.

"It's ok, pretend like I'm not here," Collin Creevy urged, raising the camera again.

"Detention!" both professors thundered.

Collin cowered and retreated to the Gryffindor table, but not before taking one final shot. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Five points to Gryffindor for being so brave, Mr. Creevy." Collin beamed up at him, and then caught Professor Snape's loathing glare, usually reserved only for Harry Potter.

--

"Want to play Quiddtich later, Harry?" Ron asked, leaning against the wall outside the Potions' classroom, waiting for Snape to release the fourth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.

Harry shook his head. "Detention with Snape, remember?"

Ron looked bracingly at Harry and Hermione patted Harry's shoulder. "I know you're not looking forward to it after the Hospital Wing," she said delicately. "I'm sure Professor Snape won't abuse the knowledge he has about your...condition. Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry grimaced. "I'd rather not think about it."

"Yeah, Hermione. Who'd want to be reminded that they'd gotten off on Snape?"

Draco, who had been listening while pretending to read his textbook, snapped his head up and narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"Could you be any more tactless, Ronald?" Hermione demanded. "It's not as though he could help it."

Seamus looked interested and slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry blushed, and glanced discretely in Draco's direction, but Draco had just looked down for his wand. He was going to hex Finnegan into a newt.

But Blaise had surreptitiously stolen Draco's wand.

Harry slumped his shoulders, dejected. Draco had probably forgotten all about yesterday.

"Hey," Seamus said, tipping Harry's chin up. "Why so sad, beautiful?"

"Finnegan," Draco growled.

Harry smiled to himself. He would bet his Firebolt that Draco had just sounded possessive.

A sudden gleam of realization sparkled for a moment in Seamus' eyes, and he blinked innocently at Draco. "Yes? Can I help you with something, Malfoy?"

"Nothing," Blaise said before Draco could try to wandlessly Crucio Seamus. Blaise flicked his eyes to Seamus' feet and let them slowly travel upward. "Workout, Finnegan?" Blaise asked absently, raising an eyebrow.

"Well...um...maybe a little," Seamus mumbled, blushing.

Just then the door opened. The fourth year Hufflepuffs looked traumatized as they filed silently out of Potions. The Ravenclaws' eyes were wide, as though they had just experienced an extraordinary phenomenon before they were ready for it. Neville audibly swallowed and rather looked as though he'd like to follow the fourth years. Hermione squared her shoulders and held her head high, clutching her book bag like a shield in front of her.

When Harry caught sight of Snape he tried to hide behind his own book bag but only succeeded in dumping his books on the floor.

Snape pounced. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for the mess, Potter," he said savagely. "And don't forget about detention tonight."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said breathlessly, fighting the urge to throw himself at Snape's feet.

"You're making Cheering Potions," Snape said harshly, walking over to his desk. "One hour. Start."

Draco slammed his cauldron down on the table, and Snape glared at him. Draco didn't care. He knew that Harry couldn't control his reaction to dominating males, but the idea of Harry being alone with his godfather for three hours made him want to grind his teeth. He used his wand to light the fire under his cauldron, and the flames jumped, licking the ceiling.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

"Sorry," Draco sneered. He was pushing his luck and was raring for a fight. He hoped it would be with Finnegan. He'd love to hurt him.

Blaise cleared his throat and stepped on Draco's foot. "Sorry, sir," Draco amended sullenly.

For forty-five minutes the class worked in silence. Neville even tried to breathe more quietly, doing all in his power to not bring Snape's wrath down on his head.

Harry was carefully tapping powdered unicorn horn out of a crystal phial and into his cauldron.

Hermione looked on nervously. "Be careful, Harry," she whispered. "Too much will make the potion toxic."

"Potter!" Snape shouted suddenly.

Harry jumped and dropped the entire phial into the cauldron. Grey smoke billowed around him. Hermione moaned and Snape swooped down on him.

"Consider your detention doubled for wasting valuable materials, Potter," he said gleefully. "And a zero for the day."

Something inside of Draco snapped. And with a French war cry, handed down from father to son in the Malfoy family, Draco threw the contents of his cauldron at his godfather.

TBC