It was a dark and stormy night. Harry Potter was sitting there, drinking his butter beer, contemplating his dark future as well as the events of recent days.
It had started off on another dark and stormy night, with a simple, "Hello, Mr. Potter."
He glanced up, startled, awed by the image of beauty before him.
And then, he realized, it was Draco's mother—Narcissa Malfoy.
"Why, hello Narcissa," he greeted her.
Her eyes swept over him like twin torches, burning into his soul.
"You are responsible for the misfortunes of my family," she whispered in a husky voice that bespoke her wrath.
"That I am," he said, smiling challengingly. "What will you do about it?"
And before he could so much as blink, she swept him up into her passionate embrace.
"Make love to me…"
Her whisper filled the air like aphrodisiac. He was lost.
The next morning, he awoke on cool sheets, stretched naked over a strange bed. The lingering scent of Narcissa Malfoy's perfume filled his nostrils. It took him a long moment to notice the apparition in the doorway, goggling at him through amazed, blue eyes.
Lucius Malfoy.
"Hello, Lucius," he said softly.
"You, Harry Potter," he said, fixing me with cold blue eyes, "have done something unspeakable. Not only have caused great misfortunes for my family, but you have soiled my own bed—my own wife—with your seed!"
"That I have," Harry agreed, smiling gently. "What do you plan to do about it?"
Lucius Malfoy approached, his cheeks twitching furiously with his fast heartbeat. He drew his wand threateningly.
"Make love to me now," he commanded.
Harry stared at him a moment, a little weirded out. But when Lucius bent down, and claimed his lips with his own, all his fears and worries dissolved, and suddenly it was all too clear—he needed Lucius. Now.
The next morning, he awoke, stretching his bare skin, feeling the gentle caress of cool sheets against his heated flesh.
Harry slowly, painstakingly made his way out of the room, feeling refreshed and strangely excited. What an amazing two days he'd had—and an even more incredible two nights.
He had nearly crossed the hallway, wrapped only in the crisp white bed sheets, when he beheld an unexpected apparition, looming—frozen—across the hall.
"Potter!" breathed Draco, staring at him with disbelief.
A smile stretched across Harry's lips. "Hello, Draco."
"You—you—what are you doing here?" Draco cried.
"I made love with your father last night," Harry murmured. "And with your mother the night before."
Tears filled Draco's eyes. "You've brought misfortune to my family, and now you presume to make love with my parents?"
Harry shrugged. "I suppose you could say that."
Heat rose in Draco's face, and a fire consumed the cold gray of his eyes.
"You dare," he whispered threateningly, "to make love to my parents, yet to disregard me?"
Harry raised a challenging eyebrow. "It really depends on you, Draco."
The other boy crossed the distance between them in two great strides, pressing his lips furiously to Harry's, covering them in a passionate wetness.
Harry melted into the kiss, amazed, thrilled, excited to the fabric of his being.
"Make love to me," Draco whispered against his lips.
Harry grasped his sweaty shoulders, and let the sheet slip from around his naked form.
He awoke the next morning contented, satisfied. What a wonderful few days! He glanced around and with a sweep of his eyes realized that he was in Draco's dorm room. Yawning, he arose, and slowly began the painstaking process of gathering up his clothing. Draco had hastily grabbed it in their retreat from Malfoy Manor, through the floo, to Hogwarts, to Slytherin, to Malfoy's room, as they kissed and caressed the entire way.
He smiled softly upon seeing the note, a fond lover's scrawl, Draco had so lovingly pinned to Harry's shirt. He had very little time, though, to read it, before he became aware of a dark figure looming in the doorway.
"Potter!"
Harry raised his head coolly, and spotted Severus Snape standing in the doorway like an angry beast.
"What are you doing here?" Snape hissed.
"I was invited," Harry said, smiling. "And I'd appreciate you turning around, since I'm still mostly naked."
Snape's eyes trailed down his form, as though drawn against their own volition to Harry's wiry, muscular form.
"So I see," Snape sneered, but his voice sounded strangely husky and strained.
Harry shrugged, and went about dressing again. He felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck as Snape continued to stare at him, as though a man in a trance. Harry was buttoning his shirt, when suddenly a pale hand snaked out and caught his.
"Wha—"
His voice was silenced by a kiss.
Harry stiffened in Snape's arms, feeling alarmed and afraid. But his fears and anxieties died away as Snape deepened the kiss, and suddenly he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.
Snape pressed him back onto Draco's bed.
"Make love to me, Potter…"
The whisper faded into the night, along with the sounds of their passionate lovemaking.
He awoke the next day feeling strangely happy and refreshed. What a few days he'd had.
He glanced around, and realized he was in Snape's quarters. Harry smiled at the memory of Severus's firm body, and he rose to look around for him, wondering if he'd already headed out for the morning.
In this manner, he did not notice the lone figure looming in the doorway, staring at him with shocked lust.
"Harry."
Harry jerked around, startled. He instantly relaxed upon spotting Remus Lupin.
"Hello, Remus," Harry greeted. "Forgive my attire." He gestured to his naked body with a rueful smile.
"Oh, it's forgiven," Lupin whispered huskily. A smile crept across his lips, and he gradually closed the distance between them. "Oh, Harry—you don't know how sexy you look right now."
"Why don't you show me?" Harry replied tartly.
"Oh, I shall," Lupin promised. "That, and more."
And as he enfolded Harry in his arms, his whisper—"make love to me" resounded through the air.
Harry awoke back in Gryffindor. He had a sleepy memory of Remus carrying him lovingly up the stairs and depositing him gently upon his bed, caressing his soft flesh before retreating soundlessly into the night.
Harry lay there now, naked, blissful. What a few days he'd had!
It was in that manner that Ron happened upon him.
"Harry—want to get breakfast?"
"No," Harry replied.