Another Sort of Evil

Another Sort of Evil

Harry Potter felt the all-encompassing wave of relief and ecstasy wash over him as he came, warm and fast, into the waiting hand of Professor Snape. The breathless anticipation and matchless release were suddenly, harshly replaced with a reality of dread. He could feel the friction as Snape's lanky body rubbed against him, but didn't dare turn his eyes to see.

No, he thought to himself, this can't be me. I couldn't, I wouldn't... what would Ron and Hermione say? There's no way I wanted this, something else came over me. It must be the work of Voldemort.

He counted the seconds until he felt Snape finish inside of him, then quickly, abruptly, without thinking or looking or speaking, made his way out of the room. He was sure he was being terribly impolite, but what are social graces when the Dark Lord is at work?

Harry ran up to Gryffindor Tower, averting eye contact with passers-by in the halls, feeling his stomach sink even further with discomfort as he spotted Ginny--his Ginny, even if she wasn't really--snogging Malfoy in the corner by the Transfiguration classroom.

Something evil, he thought to himself, is at play.

In the common room, Hermione was seated, laughing, on Ron's lap and Harry squinted, then quickly averted his eyes when he saw where Ron's hand was resting. But at least there was something familiar, something right, in his two friends smiling and laughing and being close to each other. This was right, this had been happening before whatever it was that Harry knew was causing things to be amiss at Hogwarts. He'd ignore Ron's quickly flicking fingers pressed against Hermione's robes--ignore! ignore!--and his friends would make things all right.

"Something awful is going on," Harry blurted out.

"What's that?" asked Ron.

"Things just... aren't right." He couldn't tell them about him and Professor Snape in the Potions classroom--what would they think, even if it one of Voldemort's diabolical plots that thrust him into the situation. What could he say? "I saw Ginny snogging Malfoy," he finally said.

Ron's face turned to the very typical protective, angry!Ron-face, but Hermione seemed completely unfazed.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, her voice both conspiring and condescending in a way that only Hermione could manage, "everyone's," she paused a moment, "snogged Malfoy."

Harry, for the third time in fifteen minutes, thought he was going to be sick. "Everyone?" he asked, his voice weak.

Hermione nodded, a sly sort of smile rising to her face. Harry decidedly did not want to know what memory prompted that look. He glanced at Ron, who appeared somewhat uncomfortable, and quite fixated on an invisible stain on the carpet.

Four, Harry thought to himself, adjusting his mental nausea tally.

"He really is a git, but it's worth it," Hermione said, as if that made for an explanation. "Oh, is it worth it," she repeated in an almost-moan, her eyelids lowering. Harry was not going to see what Ron's fingers were up to while Hermione was reminiscing about Draco, he was not.

Harry stood quickly, realizing that this time, he was going to be sick at the thought. He ran upstairs to his dorm room and opened the window, sticking his head outside, letting the air freshen his mind, imagining himself flying on his broom--alone--imagining Quidditch and not any other sort of attempt to get into rounded holes and chasing after the snitch, not any other quivering little oval.

Something very strange, and very wrong, was going on here.

Briefly, Harry wondered who he could talk to, as Ron and Hermione had already proven themselves most incredibly unhelpful. Dumbledore? Harry shuddered at the thought of bringing up anything even remotely sexual in front of the elderly headmaster. Of course, if it was Voldemort's work--which Harry was quite sure was the case--then Dumbledore would have to be told eventually. But for now, Harry would much rather share his suspicions with someone a little less, well, wrinkly.

Harry felt a sadness to match the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized that Sirius would have been the perfect person with whom to share his worries. But, no, he was gone.

Remus's name came to him all of a sudden, and he grabbed the Floo powder from his drawer and made his way back down to the common room. He was both relieved and pleased to find the common room empty--Ron and Hermione presumably having finally found some much-needed privacy.

He threw the powder into the fire. Almost immediately, Molly Weasley's face appeared in the fire. After exchanging greetings, Harry asked for Remus, and Molly, with a bit of a look Harry couldn't quite place, ducked out of the fire. It was a few minutes before Remus's face--slightly flushed and sweaty-- finally appeared, and Harry tapped his fingers impatiently while waiting. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi." Suddenly, after all the wait, Harry couldn't find the words for what he wanted to say.

"As nice as it is to hear from you, I'd imagine you don't have something specific to talk about. Judging from the baffled look on your face, I'm guessing it's a question." Remus's voice, though friendly as ever, seemed a bit rushed.

Harry smiled a tiny smile and took a breath before speaking. "Remus... it seems that something strange is going on here--" Harry cut himself off in shock, as Sirius appeared besides Remus in the fire.

"Wotcher, Harry," said Sirius brightly.

"But... but..." Harry was speechless, with joy and shock and anger at not being told of Sirius's return, before he realized that Sirius--or what appeared to be Sirius--was using Tonks' trademark greeting. "Tonks?" he asked, knowing the hurt was apparent in his voice.

Suddenly, Sirius was gone and Tonks was Tonks again. Harry and Remus stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Tonks spoke.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," Tonks said suddenly, Remus still lost in thought. "I uh... Remus and I were... doing some stuff for the Order and..." she sighed and muttered something quietly that Harry couldn't hear. "I can't explain." She looked longingly at Remus.

"How can I help you, Harry?" asked Remus softly.

"Something's not right," said Harry quickly. Suddenly the prospect of figuring out what dark magic was at work at Hogwarts seemed much more appealing. "I saw Draco and Ginny in the hallway, and it seems that Hermione and Ron have snogged him as well. And I'm... feeling things that I know I shouldn't."

Remus's eyes seemed to sparkle a little bit and Tonks giggled.

"I wouldn't say that's dark magic," Remus said slowly.

"It has to be," said Harry, but Remus's smile only grew wider. Angrily, Harry ran out of the common room. With friends like these, Harry thought to himself, and then, suddenly, he had an idea.

He made his way out of the common room and into the hallways of the school. His legs moved quickly, his face quite clearly showing anyone who dared approach him that this was not the time for friendly conversation. He found himself by the Transfiguration classroom, where Draco and Ginny were still embracing, uncomfortably--for Harry at least--closely.

Harry put his hand threateningly on Draco's shoulder. "We need to talk," he said firmly.

"What?" asked Draco as he pulled away from Ginny.

"It was my idea," Ginny offered in protest. "I told you I was tired of waiting."

"That's nice," said Harry, brushing off Ginny's excuses. "But you know very well, Draco, that Ginny is not what we need to talk about."

Ginny huffed away angrily as Harry glared at Draco. "What in Merlin's name," Harry asked, his voice slow and forceful, "is going on here?"

Draco smiled slyly. "I think that is quite obvious."

Harry quickly pulled Draco into the classroom and shut the door behind them. "I meant in general. You and Ginny, you and Hermione, you and... Ron."

"Jealous, Potter?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "Confused."

"Well, if you're wondering why you're not getting any and I am, may I direct you to the nearest mirror?"

"I am getting some!" Harry said before his internal censor could stop him.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I thought I heard some odd noises when I went to finish my Diminishing Draught."

Harry's face paled to the color of Draco's ashen skin.

"How was it, then?" Draco asked with a wink.

"It was..." Harry reminisced for a moment. If it hadn't been with Snape, the afternoon's encounter really would have had its high points. "Wrong and awful. What's going on, Malfoy?"

"Sit down, Potter. I suppose I need to tell you about the birds and the bees then?" Draco put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "And the birds and the other birds."

Harry violently stepped away. "I know about that! I mean about me and Snape and you and Ginny and all these people, who by all logical right shouldn't like each other in that way--or any way, really. That's why I came to you. It's Voldemort, isn't it? Tell me what you know, Malfoy," Harry said, pushing Draco forcefully against the wall.

Draco laughed. "It's not," he paused tentatively before saying the name, "Voldemort, it's sex."

Harry groaned. "Well, I realize that. Though I'd really prefer that you didn't use Voldemort and sex in the same sentence."

"Bad memories?"

"No!"

And suddenly, Harry was laughing, and Draco was laughing and sex wasn't about some evil plot of Voldemort's anymore, but Harry's tongue on Draco's neck and pulling robes over heads and oh-no-it's-wrong-again, but this time Harry knew something strange was going on so, really, how could he be blamed for moaning at the feel of Draco's warm mouth. Hermione was right, he thought to himself, he really was quite good, and before he knew it Harry was giving in return and, oddly, it felt nice. He kissed the blond boy once after he finished before his face once again paled and he turned around and threw his robes on and ran away.

He could hear Draco laughing as he shut the classroom door behind him and ran back up to Gryffindor Tower, where Ron and Hermione were sitting together on the couch. This time, Hermione was petting only Crookshanks, and Harry was quite glad to see they'd finished with whatever they had been doing before.

"Sex." He spat out, breathless from running through the castle at full speed. "Voldemort."

"Oo, Charades," said Ron. "You had sex with He Who Must Not be Named! Eew!"

Harry collapsed between the two of them on the couch and waited, his friends watching intently, for his breath to return.

"No, I had sex with Draco Malfoy."

"Well, that's certainly an improvement over Voldemort," said Hermione.

"...and Professor Snape."

Hermione quickly put her hand in front of her mouth to conceal a smile.

"You... and Snape..." Harry's stumbling over his words was no longer due to exhaustion, but surprise.

Harry turned to Ron, who shook his head vigorously. "Can't say I have, mate. Thankfully."

"It wasn't..." Harry was about to say that bad when he realized he really was best shutting up and doing what he'd set out to do: getting to the bottom of the matter.

"Anyway," Harry said, "I think all this... activity... has been the result of Voldemort. His way of weakening us or something. I mean, it can't be natural."

"It's not the work of Voldemort," said Hermione with certainty.

"But it must be!"

Ron shook his head.

"How can you both be so sure?" Harry asked, suddenly worried that he had slept with two of his least favorite people in the world of his own free will.

"He's not in this story," said Hermione.

"Not allowed to be," added Ron. "Haven't you noticed--no minor characters and no bad guys."

"What about Draco?" asked Harry.

"He's redeemed," explained Hermione.

"Well then," asked a worried Harry, "what is going on?"

Hermione shrugged. "Pr0n, I suppose."

"What's that?"

"It's an ancient magical condition which comes about every now and then--usually in the springtime--during which everyone reaches a heightened state of sexual arousal and overlooks any sort of established interpersonal relations to consummate those desires. I read it in Hogwarts, an Uncensored History."

Ron turned to Harry and offered a simpler explanation. "Everyone's really horny."

Harry looked back at Hermione, who suddenly threw her lips onto his own. Harry couldn't help but return the kiss, glad that he was finally with someone he actually liked and even gladder when he felt Ron's hand slowly creep between his legs.

Pr0n, whatever it was, Harry thought to himself, really wasn't half bad.