Primer to the Dark Arts

The Book of Eros

by Icarus

The dungeon ceilings arched up into darkness. Stone shelves lined the walls; jars of various sizes and shapes, some tall, some squat, rested upon them. The largest ones, big enough to hold small children, were set on the stone floor. What little light there was came from the phosphorescent mould that lined the jars, giving the chamber a sickly green glow. Strange, unnamable things floated in the containers. One of the largest suddenly wobbled, as if someone had knocked into it. A hand inside squirmed like a startled fish. A disembodied voice cursed, and something steadied the jar.

"Sh!" another voice said; and then: "Alohomora!"

A drawer in Professor Snape's desk pulled open, seemingly of its own accord.

"Harry, I wish you would tell me what we're looking for." Anyone who knew the Gryffindors would immediately recognize the voice of Ron Weasley. The next voice then would come as no surprise.

"It's... it's a scroll," said Harry Potter's voice. "My notes. I can't tell you any more than that."

"Okay. But you've been really strange lately - I never see you!" It was an odd comment coming from someone who was currently invisible. "You're even missing Quidditch practices."

"Sh! I've had detentions..." Harry's voice said.

"Without me?!" Ron's voice complained.

Inside the drawer they found various items confiscated by Professor Snape. There were rubber wands, fake mushrooms (that would explode if dropped in a potion); bouncing balls that turned into mice and quickly tried to escape. There were several decks of cards playing a hand of poker in the drawer. They cursed and grumbled at the interruption of their game: "move along, lads, yer too young for this, heh, heh." The other cards laughed. A cheater's deck flashed a player's hand to the one across it, which quickly folded.

Harry Potter's invisible hands fumbled through the contents, finally finding a scroll buried in the back. Another set of hands opened a lower drawer, finding only a book.

"Woohoo," breathed Ron's voice, "someone's a right fool for bringing this to class - look at these pictures... they're all naked!"

"Put it back, Ron," said Harry's voice. Suddenly he yelped, "It's [It's] got me!"

The leg of the desk had come to life and wrapped around Harry's leg. There it froze to wood again. Ron backed away, coming out from under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Oh sh**... hey, look at this."

Ron picked up a set of keys that were in the lower drawer where he found the book. They fit the lock in the upper drawer. The desk leg, recognizing the proper key, uncurled and let Harry go.

"Harry. That was close. Let's get out of here before anything else decides to attack," Ron whispered, glancing uneasily at the jars. He picked up the scroll Harry dropped and disappeared back under the Invisibility Cloak.

Upstairs in the empty Gryffindor common room, Harry noticed Ron was still carrying the book he found in Snape's drawer. It had the name 'The Book of Eros" stamped in florid letters across the cover, and Ron was eagerly pawing through it already.

"I don't believe you took that," Harry said.

"C'mon, let's have a look! Snape won't know who took it," Ron said. "This spell needs hair of a virgin - "

"That's an easy one - we've got you," Harry joked, and Ron cuffed him.

The next day, after another look at those pictures, they decided to skip Divinations class, figuring there was no difference between lying about being sick, and lying about seeing something in their Numerology charts. The homework would be easy enough. It was the same as Astrology, only much less complicated.

Ron sprawled out on Harry's bed with the book propped up on the pillow, while Harry drew the bed curtains. The people in the pictures writhed on the pages before them, various spells were scrabbled on the margins. Others were written between the lines if you tipped the book a certain way.

"Wow. This is a very dirty book," said Ron. "What a find!"

Harry had to agree.

They gaped at the photos of different people doing all kinds of things to each other, with each other, in all different positions. Ron stopped at a picture of two witches together, his eyes popping. When Harry finally got him to turn the page, he smirked as he noticed Ron bent the page to mark that one.

"Look at these spells. I never thought of using magic for stuff like this. Here's one - 'when you need an extra hand.' Hold on, let's try it," Ron said.

Harry wondered if this was such a good idea, but Ron worked the spell, and a hand appeared in midair, apparently waiting for instructions. It took several minutes for Ron to look up the counterspell and banish it.

Harry was interested. "How 'bout this one? 'Erotic massage, with a twist.' "

He tried it. Ron said it was quite nice, until he felt a sharp smack on the rear.

"Who would want that?" Ron asked, a little annoyed, as Harry banished the spell. Harry shrugged.

"Here's another weird one..." Before Harry could stop him, he said "Sado-Immobilius!"

Leather straps appeared suddenly, wrapped around Harry's ankles and wrists, and tied him spread-eagle to the bed.

"Get it off me! Now! Get it off!" Harry fumed at Ron.

"Hold on, hold on... keep your shirt on," Ron chuckled as he said the counter Charm. The ropes disappeared into wisps of smoke.

Freed, Harry struggled up, and looked for something equally embarrassing he could set on Ron.

"Here's tickling!" said Ron. "I should have used that a minute ago."

Harry ignored him, he had found what he was looking for.

"Strip-Ease," he explained, and flicked his wand, saying the incantation.

"Hey!" Ron complained. The spell started to rip his shirt off. But Harry already had his finger on the counterspell. He was just kidding. The rips vanished, and Ron gave Harry a dirty look.

"It's nearly lunchtime," Harry observed, a little surprised. It hadn't seemed like that long. "I think we missed study hall."

"I guess time flies..." Ron shrugged, " - got one more for you."

"No- !" said Harry, thinking of the leather straps.

"Don't worry - this one you use on yourself. Watch!" Ron said, "Phallus Erectus!"

And with that Ron had the biggest hard-on Harry had ever seen, sticking straight out.

"Need anything hung up?" he asked, turning sideways.

Laughing, Harry scrambled up and tried it on himself. He couldn't do the hanger trick, his always went up, rather than out. Then they heard people coming through the portrait downstairs. Lunchtime. Quickly Ron looked up the counterspell.

"Uh..." Ron started paging madly through the book. "I can't find it."

"Give me that!" But Harry couldn't find it either. They stuffed the book under Harry's pillow and rolled over onto their stomachs as the other Gryffindors clomped up the steps.

So Harry and Ron carried jackets with them to lunch, strategically placed as they sat at the table. They wolfed down their food, barely tasting it, and launched themselves from the table as early as possible. "Quidditch practice," Harry lied on their way out.

Back in their room, Harry reread the spell.

"It says it 'wears off naturally.' I guess we just have to wait. Good thing we have Potions and Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon. We'll be standing up all day."

"Yeah," Ron rolled his eyes, "except I'm sure Snape has X-ray vision."

Yet even by the end of dinner their condition was unimproved. By this time Ron was very upset. Outside the portrait opening to the Gryffindor common room he complained.

"Harry, this can't go on much longer. I have to pee, and... well... I can't! I'm going to explode!"

Harry agreed the situation was dire, trying not to laugh.

"What can't go on, dear?" The fat lady in the portrait asked sleepily.

"Mellifluous," Harry said and portrait swung open, "- nothing." He decided there'd better not be any portraits around when Ron and he took another peek at that book. He hadn't forgotten how quickly the word had spread of his being entered into the Tri-Wizard competition his fourth year. He supposed if he had nothing to do but hang on a wall all day, he would gossip, too. Maybe.

That night, once Seamus and the others were asleep, Harry and Ron tiptoed down the tower stairs with the book. Harry led the way to the attic above the Owlry. The room was dusty, and empty, with a wood floor and no portraits to be found. Or any decoration for that matter.

"Nice place," Ron said.

"Lumos!" A ball of light appeared above Harry's wand. He cracked open the Book of Eros and located the spell, reading between the lines this time. " 'It wears off naturally..." Harry turned the page, "... after use."

"Use?!" Ron squeaked, "You don't think - ?"

Harry stared.

"Maybe..." Ron suggested, making a pumping gesture, "... you know?"

Harry shook his head, tipping the book to the left. "It gives three options... vaginal..."

Ron brightened. "Hey, maybe we can ask Hermione to help out. She's a pal."

Harry privately thought Ron would like that.

"Sure, she'll help. With a Severing Charm," Harry pointed out. Ron cringed.

"Well, it's definitely the spell at work - that thought should have shriveled me up, right here and now. What are we going to do?" Ron sounded desperate.

"Well, it says here 'vaginal, anal...' - " Harry continued. Ron sat on his hands and backed away from Harry.

"Don't even think about it!"

" - 'or oral.' " Harry finished the sentence, glaring at Ron. "I'm sorry, it just doesn't say anything else. But we could try it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "We could."

After several minutes of trying, they gave up in exasperation. Harry picked up the book again.

"I don't understand it... Hey. Ron." Harry eyes ran down the table of contents. "This is from the 'For Both of You' chapter. There's an entirely different spell for just one person. And it does the exact same thing!"

He pointed to the page. Sure enough, the chapter heading read 'All for Him.'

Ron gaped. "Wha - how was I supposed to know that?!"

"You could read the book!"

"I'm not Hermione!"

Harry groaned and put his head in his hands.

"What do we do now?" Ron asked.

Harry gave him a long deadpan stare.

"You're mad! No... no way!" Ron answered emphatically.

"All right then," Harry snapped the book shut and crossed his arms. Ron was not much help. "We'll just sit here until you think of a better idea."

The room was silent for several minutes. Harry could practically hear Ron's brains frying, as he struggled to think of another solution. For a bit it even seemed Ron was willing to wait until a small miracle stumbled on them in the attic.

Then, Harry heard Ron let out a heavy sigh.

"Okay... I can't think of a thing, 'cept I need to pee. Badly. Soo... right." He turned and wagged a finger at Harry, " - but don't you ever tell a living, breathing soul! Or a dead one either," he added as an afterthought.

"Me - ?" Harry couldn't imagine ever wanting to admit this.

" - and especially - Don't Ever Tell Hermione!" said Ron. To that Harry whole-heartedly agreed.

Harry suggested maybe they could use a memory erasing charm. Then it would be like it never happened.

"But, er, if you can't erase your own memory, then for one of us to use the charm, they'll have to remember what it was they were supposed to forget."

Ron nodded sagely. "Right. Of course. Harry - what are you talking about?"

"You can't enchant yourself, right?"

"We did with this," Ron pointed out.

"That's different... I think... somehow," Harry pleaded, "please don't confuse me or I'm gonna forget."

"Okay."

"The person who casts the spell has to know what they're erasing, right?"

"Sure."

"So... the last person left has already had their memory wiped: he won't know what he's supposed to erase! It'll only work on one of us."

A light of understanding went on in Ron's eyes.

"We just have to decide who will remember." Harry thought about it a moment. He knew little enough about his past as it was. "I think I will. I don't like the idea of forgetting any more than I have to."

"Well, I have lots of things I'd like to forget. Like the time Fred stuck two blowcrackers up my nose and..."

"I think we'd better just do this, for right now anyway. It's getting kinda late." Harry started pulling off his robe while Ron looked away, red-faced.

"Oh. Yeah. Probably I'd better not make Swiss cheese of my memory. Not with Fred and George around."

Harry yanked his underwear down to his knees, pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and looked at himself. He decided the spell must be some kind of engorgement charm, because he'd never been so huge. It was practically prodding into his navel.

Ron was slow and fussing about taking his clothes off. Harry thought he was being stupid - they'd never been shy around each other before. For a moment it seemed Ron had forgotten how to work a zipper and got his robe stuck on his head. He finally pulled it off, his red hair a disheveled mess, ears pink. He sat in front of Harry with his arms close together like he was afraid to show his bare chest. As if Harry hadn't seen him a thousand times. He looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else in the world but there.

Ron's face hovered over Harry's lap, then he paused.

"Could you... lie down... or something? It feels strange having you stare at me like that."

By some unspoken agreement they understood they weren't going to touch each other any more than was necessary. Harry complied and made a comfy pillow out of his robe. For what seemed a long stretch, Ron still did nothing. It was getting cold in the attic.

"Well," Harry said impatiently, "hurry on. The sooner we get this over ... oh."

Harry didn't finish his sentence. Ron's mouth was like hot silk, the warm sensation enveloping him. Ron's breath tickled his hair. Harry thought he was going to melt into the floorboards. Then Ron moved, hitting all the sensitive spots in one pass. Harry leaned up. You couldn't help but look when your friend was doing something like that to you. He saw red hair bobbing up and down on him. Then Harry jumped at a sharp pain.

"Hey! Watch the teeth!"

"Shorry," Ron glanced up, his voice slurred around his mouthful.

Harry glared at him suspiciously, then began to relax again. He fell back to the floor, and closed his eyes, his mouth relaxed in a silent moan. After a minute or so, Ron stopped, far too early. Though anything short of forever would have been too soon to Harry's mind at that point. Harry lay there a moment, breathing heavily, trying to recover himself. Ron didn't notice as he wiped his mouth and sat up.

"Well, that should do the trick," he said. "It'll fade any minute now. Let's take care of me and then we can get out of here."

Harry's head was slicked and wet, and felt a little cold now in the open air. But it showed no signs of 'fading' as Ron put it.

Harry struggled up reluctantly. Ron sat waiting for Harry with casual, matter-of-fact patience. He'd certainly overcome his earlier shyness. Harry looked up at him a trifle warily, guessing from Ron's careless indifference he had no clue what was in store for him either. Ron noticed Harry's hesitation and offered:

"Do you want me to lie down?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "doesn't matter."

He started to take his glasses off, but then thought the better of it. He noticed in this position Ron's erection was stretched out straight across the floor. "Oh, well, I guess you had better I suppose." So Ron grabbed Harry's 'pillow' and lay completely flat.

Harry didn't mind Ron leaning up on his elbows to watch, in fact, he was rather looking forward to the look on Ron's face when he felt it. Harry didn't take his eyes off Ron for a second as he lowered his mouth to Ron's lap. He was surprised at how little of it he could fit in his mouth, but that didn't seem to matter, because Ron's eyes went very round and dark, and his jaw slowly fell. He let out a big sigh when he finally started to breathe again. His chest rose and fell heavily. Ron let his head loll back on his shoulders with a moan.

That was fun. Harry was glad he'd gone first; he would not have missed that for the world. But the next moment Harry had a little trouble with Ron. Ron was trembling, responsive. Harry gagged on him once or twice. It was too graphic for Harry's sensibilities, so he backed off. He was a little worried Ron would come in his mouth.

"Okay, well, er, that should do it," Harry said.

"Do what?" Ron sat up, sounding frustrated and annoyed at the sudden halt. "It hasn't done a thing."

And he was right. Their conditions were unchanged. Harry didn't understand. He adjusted his glasses and reached for the book.

Ron groaned and fell back to the floor, complaining, "Put the down the book..."

Harry ignored him, and curled up with the Book of Eros in his lap.

"It says the effects wear off naturally..." he puzzled.

"Isn't it obvious? Naturally, Harry, naturally!" Ron made a frustrated noise. "Let nature take its course. You had me so close, too."

Harry glanced up without moving. He had noticed.

"But it doesn't say..."

"Of course not. Don't you get it? Everything in this book is in the margins, between the lines. Gosh, Harry, you're a great wizard and all... and you're pretty smart... but, in this... well... you're just... thick." Ron grabbed the book away from Harry.

"Do you think this wizard's gonna spell it out for any kid who picks up his book? I bet there's even weirder stuff in here, if only we knew the right words to say," Ron looked at the Book of Eros disappointedly.

They leafed through a few more pages. Ron came back to his favorite picture of two witches waving at him from the page while they went through their eye-popping gymnastics. Then Harry reread the passage. He had to admit, Ron was probably right.

"Ron, how'd you get to know so much about this stuff?" Harry asked, somewhat suspicious.

He shrugged. "There are seven kids in my family."

Ah. Good point.

Then Harry leaned back in anticipation. "Well... I guess it's my turn again."

"What?!" Ron protested. "That's not fair! I was this close. And I still am. I bet if you did me now it wouldn't take but five minutes!"

But in the end Ron grudgingly relented, and two amber eyes looked at Harry from between his knees, this time knowing exactly what he was about to do to his friend. Harry couldn't wait. He settled back on the comfortable couch they'd made for themselves. They'd stretched Ron's longer cloak underneath them, and bunched both their robes up as a pillow. Ron guided Harry to lay flat, and straddled his thighs. His erection bumped up against Harry, and then slid between his legs. Ron held it there a moment, as if daring Harry to say anything about it. Harry knew full well what Ron was about, but he was feeling generous. After all, he got to go first.

Then Ron reached up, leaned over and gently plucked Harry's glasses off his face. Strangely, that was the most intimate, most erotic thing Ron had done that night. It left Harry breathless, blinking and dazed. Ron must've felt it too, because he lingered a long moment, still holding Harry's glasses like he'd forgotten about them. Then he chewed his lip, swallowed, and turned back to business, flushed to his ears. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Hermione...', but he laid Harry's glasses delicately on the book, as if they were made of spun sugar. He was surprisingly gentle, extra careful not to use his teeth this time.

For some reason this left Harry with butterflies in his stomach, and Harry couldn't decide if he liked this time more or less than the first. He was keenly aware of the hard rod between his legs. Gingerly, awkwardly, Harry reached down and touched the blur of Ron's feathery red hair. Ron paused a moment and looked up, stirring those beautiful tingly butterflies into motion again in Harry's stomach. He decided he liked it more.

Harry fell back to the pillow, feeling strange and light-headed. He had the sudden feeling this was all a very bad idea, but was glad there was nothing he could do about it now. It was taking a long time, probably because he was distracted, and Harry had a thought. He began to roll Ron's hard rod between his legs, and Ron's breathing picked up; he pressed himself into Harry eagerly. Soon he was gasping a little too loudly. Harry grinned as he shushed him. Ron clambered up onto Harry's chest - they were no longer careful not to touch anything more than the necessary places - and asked in a stage whisper:

"But you haven't come yet."

"So?" Harry grinned, tongue between his teeth. Ron lit up like it was Christmas. He pulled himself the rest of the way onto Harry's chest. Harry used his hands a moment, then took Ron in his mouth. He exulted - almost laughed - at Ron's swift and total loss of self-control. Ron's face was a rictus of sheer joy, and he started moving faster. Too late, Harry dodged as Ron yelled. Ron's shout had been loud enough to wake the dead, Peeves, the Bloody Baron and every other ghost in the castle.

They sat there silent a moment, listening, their hearts pounding; but no sound came.

"Guess I needed my glasses after all - windshields," Harry joked finally. He wiped his face with what he hoped was Ron's robe.

"You don't have any wipers though," Ron said, making a wiping gesture with his fingers. His voice was still a little husky.

Then he breathed at last, "whoa ..." and Harry chuckled.

They lay on the floor quietly. Ron asked, in a surprisingly soft voice:

"Harry... do you think...? Well... nevermind," Ron changed the subject. Harry wondered what he had been about to say. "I... just - what are you learning in those classes with Snape, anyhow?" Ron hadn't watched Harry as he asked, but was running his fingertips from Harry's chest to his thigh and back, curiosity in every line of this body. It tickled in a pleasant sort of way.

"I'm not supposed to tell," Harry answered absently. Ron's warm fingers wandered to more sensitive areas, exploring. Then Ron stopped.

"Yeah..." Ron sighed heavily and turned away.

"Dumbledore swore me to secrecy, Ron." Harry explained. "It's to help me next time I meet Voldemort. -- sorry, I mean -- He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Not even Hermione gets private classes in magic," Ron's voice was muffled in his arm.

"Oh - wonderful. I get an extra hour with Snape. He's worse than in Potions! At least there he can spread it around, pick on somebody else for a minute or two."

Ron sat up. "I saw those notes of yours -- "

"What -- ?"

"- half the stuff in them, you have to get in Knockturn Alley. I know. My Dad's done raids for that sort of thing."

"And you want to learn Dark Magic?" Ron's eyes goggled. Harry belatedly realized what he'd revealed. He tried to explain. "Look, Ron, I have to learn it. Dumbledore says it's the only way I can survive Voldemort next time."

"Dumbledore has you learning Dark Magic?" Ron asked, incredulous. "Him? I don't believe it! He won't teach it at Hogwarts. He's done... Harry, he's done all sorts of things to weed it out. He even tried to stop them from teaching it at Durmstrang, and some of the best Aurors come from there. It - doesn't sound like him."

"I know. It's weird." They were silent a moment.

"That's pretty cool though," Ron said.

"Yeah," said Harry glumly, thinking about the test he was going to fail next week. Usually Snape was happy when he failed, but this class was proving to be an exception for one reason or another.

"Can you - can you teach me some?" Ron asked a little nervously.

"I think I'd better not," Harry said. "I'm bombing out. Completely. I haven't done a thing right the whole class. I'd probably get us both killed."

"Oh." Ron was impressed. He got up and started pulling on his underwear. Harry made no move to get dressed. "Well, no surprise Snape knows Dark Magic..."

"Ron - where are you going?" Harry asked a bit crossly.

Ron looked down at Harry's lap, still larger than life. He pulled his underwear back down.

"Sorry, Harry. I completely forgot!"

Twenty minutes later, two rumpled young men sorted out whose robe was whose, and found their respective shoes. There was a brief scurry when they couldn't find Harry's glasses, but a simple locator charm aimed Ron's wand right at them - once they had stopped panicking and thought of it. The glasses had been knocked off the book. Harry's hair stood up at more angles than usual, while Ron's was static-y and clung to everything. He had trouble brushing it out of his eyes. Ron wiped gingerly at a spot on his collar. Harry lingered a bit, tired, but wishing the night were longer. He wondered when he'd ever have anything like this again. Just as they were about to leave, Harry stopped:

"The Memory Charm - !"

"Uh... yeah, it's okay. It - it sounds like too much trouble anyway, right?" Ron said evasively, trying to flip the hair out of his face. He peered out the attic door, checking to see if the coast was clear. Harry was willing to bet Ron hadn't forgotten at all, but didn't mention it. He stood behind Ron, very close, looking over his shoulder. He noticed Ron didn't move away.

"Right," Harry said.

Harry awkwardly fumbled as he hefted the Book of Eros; the cover fell open to the first page, which they'd never bothered to read. Harry stared at it dumbfounded.

"Ron, look at this!" he grabbed Ron's robe.

On the bottom left-hand corner, in neat letters, was written the name: 'Severus Snape.'

It gave an address of a flat that was not at Hogwarts.

It was Snape's book.

"Now that I can't picture!" gaped Ron. "Or I can - but I think I'm going to go blind imagining it!"

Then Ron winced as he thought about it. "I guess we'd better put his book back, before he notices it's gone." Ron did not relish the idea of another trip back to Snape's attack desk.

"Oh, I think there's no hurry." Harry smiled slowly. "Do you really think Snape is going to complain he lost a book like this?"

"Hey - yeah. Brilliant!"

Finis. Next: 'How to Avoid Your Best Friend.'