Disclaimer: Not mine never mine

Authours Note: A Short one shot dedicated to Criminally Insane Hermit because her new fic "I Kissed A Girl" made me LOL hysterically. This is probably not going to be humorous, mainly because I can only do small doses of it, but generally more upbeat than my normal stuff.

p.s.: some of the plot bunnies from CIH's "I Kissed A Girl" might have bitten me into making this-- so giving credit where credit is due, I'm taking inspiration from her ficcy. GO READ IT!!

Summary: Dumbledore adds a little concoction of his own making to the morning drinks. But even he doesn't expect the surprising results. Snarry-pre-slash-y-ish… maybe. (Ha! A pre-slash Snarry rated 'R'… riiight :P)

Title: Basilisk Offerings

Harry sighed grumpily as he plopped down onto his seat next to Ron, and put his head in his hands. Ron and Hermione were used to this from Harry- this was the day before Valentines Day, and Friday the 13th to boot, and Harry was the Saviour of the Wizarding World. A volatile combination. So they just ignored him and began the arduous task of keeping his admirers away.

Harry thanked whatever gods were listening for having two friends as dedicated as Hermione and Ron were, happily letting them take care of the sudden appearance of mobbing fangirls. He grabbed the pitcher of pumpkin juice and poured some for all three of them, saluting them grimly as they gently let another girl down.

Taking a swig of the liquid, Harry thought about his 'perfect' life. Ever since he had defeated Voldemort in the beginning of Seventh Year he'd been hailed as the Wizarding World's Saviour. It was true- to an extent. But he knew that sooner or later someone else would have gotten fed up with Voldemort, and gone and killed the bastard- probably one of his own followers. Harry snorted, ignoring the looks Seamus and Dean gave him as they sat next to Neville across from Harry.

They had just wanted Harry to kill the insane megalomaniac because some stupid prophecy had said he was the only one who could. Harry lifted a brow as he remembered their last fight, and shook his head. Anyone could have finished old Snake-Face off if they'd tried. But no. Harry had done it- damned Gryffindor traits- and now he was never left alone.

In the five months since he'd killed Riddle, Harry had been invited to forty-seven Ministry Functions, he'd been propositioned more times than he could count, been proposed to two hundred and twenty-nine times, asked to be the father of a random person's child one hundred and twelve times, and chased across Hogwarts almost daily.

With that thought in mind, Harry leaned over to Hermione and squeezed her hand. "Thank you for everything, 'Mione," he said, smiling slightly before disappearing behind Ron again. The red-head had grown in leaps and bounds. The teen now stood at six foot five, and had almost doubled his girth. The Gryffindor Keeper was solid muscle, and had almost as many admirers as Harry. Fortunately he was in a steady relationship with Hermione, and that lowered the amount of times he was propositioned. Hermione usually laughed it off, and Harry wished he could be so carefree.

But Valentines Day- and the week before it- were torturous for him, and he loathed the fact that he could not hide in the Tower for the entire time. Everyone wanted his attention, and when they didn't get it they grew vicious. But that wasn't entirely true, Harry thought, turning to look over at the Slytherin Table and nodding to Draco as the blonde noticed him.

Harry could count on Draco- or any of the Slytherins, really- treating him normally. The biggest shock of the Final Battle had been the amount of Slytherins that had turned against their families and fought next to Harry. Many still hated and feared them, though, and they had learned to keep a low profile. But Harry always acknowledged them, and slowly but surely the Wizarding World was accepting that the Slytherins had made as many- more, actually- sacrifices as they had. And Harry was doing all he could to promote that way of thinking.

But thinking of Draco eventually led to thinking of another Slytherin, and one Harry would rather not have to think about. Those thoughts would only lead to trouble. So he turned his mind to the food that had just appeared and piled his plate with sausage and scrambled eggs. If he knew what was going to happen as soon as breakfast let out- and he did- he would need all of his strength to hide from his 'fans'.

About ten minutes to the end of breakfast, as most students were finishing off their tea and munching idly on a last bit of toast, Dumbledore stood. The immediate silence was almost deafening after the quiet rumble that had previously filled the Hall, and Harry looked up in annoyance. He'd thought they'd managed to get away without the Headmaster pulling an almost-Valentines-Day-Speech out of his ass.

"Good morning, students. I hope you all enjoyed your breakfast?" The mass of teens nodded, and Dumbledore beamed. "Excellent! Now, as tomorrow is Valentines Day-" Harry quenched the urge to duck as hundreds of gleaming eyes pinned him to his seat- "I've planned a special surprise." Harry sucked in a sudden breath, eyes wide as he completely forgot about hiding. No no no no no- he didn't. But Dumbledore went on gaily. "I took the liberty of putting a concoction in everyone's glass, teachers included." The Staff looked horrified, and for a moment Harry was able to chuckle as he took in the sight. But then he recalled his own situation, and bit his lip as his uneasy feeling doubled.

"This potion- of my own making, I am proud to say- is just a little holiday cheer for you all to share. The potion is designed to make it so that you are given a glimpse of the one you truly care about, and that by the end of class on Monday you have given them a token of your affection." The gasps of horror that rose from the listening crowd didn't faze the Headmaster, and he went right on. "Now, the effects should be starting now, and soon you'll be able to see the one you really love!"

Dumbledore sat down amidst a thick silence, and suddenly students began chattering. Hermione and Ron were looking at each other like lovesick little puppies, and the same went for Seamus and Dean. Neville was staring at Luna, and Ginny was frowning at Nott. Harry stared down at his empty plate, feeling the hundreds of assessing eyes on him, and hoping that no one saw anything about him to make them think they cared for him.

He raised his head slowly, and very carefully began to search the Great Hall. The students were catcalling and grinning, though a majority of the girls were looking at Harry as though he had personally betrayed them. Gingerly Harry let his eyes wander more openly, and saw with relief that none of the students seemed any different to him. Hesitantly, afraid of what he might see, Harry looked across the room at the Staff Table, relieved beyond words as none of the Professors looked any different.

But something caught his eye, and he froze at the sight of billowing black robes whipping out of the Great Hall in a fury. There was a tug in his heart as he watched the heavy robes disappear, and Harry let his head bang down on the table as he fought the urge to cry. Hermione looked away from Ron long enough to place a reassuring hand on Harry's head, and tell him, "Whatever it is, I'm sure it will be alright."

Harry resisted the urge to slit his throat with the table knife. I can't really care about Snape, can I!? I'm mean, it's just a childish crush, right? Harry whimpered as he imagined what Snape would think at the sight of Harry-bloody-Potter giving him a Valentines gift. Because though the Headmaster may be old and senile, he made strong potions. And Harry already felt the need to find something suitable for the dour man.

Harry slammed his head on the table again, and ignored the glances his classmates were giving him.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early, but Harry had been out of bed long before the sun had risen. His increasingly urgent need to find something appropriate to give to Snape was driving him spare, and he couldn't think about anything anymore. He was beyond grateful that he hadn't had to deal with Potions yesterday, sure that the mere sight of Snape would send him into hysterics.

Donning his heavy cloak Harry grabbed his map and slipped out of his dorm. No one noticed him leave, and he ghosted along the hallway like a pro, hiding in the shadows with an ease that would have astounded those who knew the Golden Boy. Harry stopped his early morning walk at the Entrance Hall, for a moment pissed at the heavy flakes that began to fall gently on the grass. But he got over his irrational anger and passed through the doors, stopping and standing just outside of the Castle.

He didn't flinch when an amused voice came from his left, saying sarcastically, "And here is Potter, Saviour of the World, trying to kill himself via frostbite." Harry turned to the Ice Prince of Slytherin with a frown on his face, and Draco returned the expression as he stepped closer.

"Usually you are far more volatile this early, Harry. What's wrong with you?" Harry quirked a smile at the Slytherin. He was one of the few people- barring Hermione and Ron- who actually gave a crap about him.

"That stupid potion Dumbledore slipped us all yesterday. It's got me in knots." Draco's frown deepened and he crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall next to Harry.

"Why are you letting the stupid potion distract you so much? Just get on with it and pretend it never happened." Harry had to laugh at the oh-so-Slytherin logic, but shook his head wearily.

"Its not going to be that easy for me, Draco. You should know that by now."

"Ah, yes," Draco nodded wisely, "The Great Defeater of All Evil has it so hard." Harry shared a grin with Draco, but slumped against the wall.

"I think I might actually love him," Harry sighed suddenly, and Draco turned to stare at the Gryffindor.

"'Him'? With all the attention you get from the females you play for the other side?" Harry swatted at Draco, but was beyond glad that the other boy was taking it so well. He nodded and Draco pursed his lips. "Well, then. I would say figure out what he likes best, and get him something that he needs. Something rare, that he would never be able to get or afford by himself." Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry, and grinned at the Gryffindor's expression. "And I know you can afford it, so none of that." Harry raised his hands in surrender, grateful that Draco was here to help him.

"Thank you Dr. Malfoy," Harry said, grinning when the Pureblood didn't get it. "But really- thanks." Harry paused, then added under his breath, "Though I think you might be seeing my entrails strewn across the school come Monday."

"He dislikes you that much?" Draco asked, not caring about the fact that he wasn't supposed to have heard Harry's low comment. Harry smirked wryly at the Slytherin, covering his sudden unease with the fact that he was glad the blonde was so perceptive.

"That might be an understatement, but yes. He dislikes me that much."

"Hmm, so obviously a Slytherin," Draco mused, "As no one else has the balls to hate their Saviour, and a male… who could it be?"

Harry gripped the blonde's wrist suddenly, and said in a pleading voice, "Please don't try to guess- please." Draco stared at Harry's begging emerald eyes, and lifted a brow. Okay- obviously the dark-haired Gryffindor was serious about this.

"Very well," he replied, and wondered at Harry's overly-relieved expression, "I will not try to guess who it might be."

"Thank you, Draco." Harry let the Slytherin's wrist go, and turned to face the rising sun. The two boys remained quiet for a moment longer before Draco nodded to Harry and returned to the Castle, but Harry stayed, thinking about pale skin and black hair.

By nine o'clock Harry had been ambushed three times while Hermione and Ron were otherwise occupied. Now he was hiding in a shadowy corner of the Gryffindor Common Room, keeping friends and enemies away by use of a vicious glare. He scrubbed his lips once more with the sleeve of his shirt, trying to wipe away the feel of lips pressing against his own.

He'd nearly killed Ginny when the youngest Weasley had snuck in the kiss. Thankfully, it had been brief, lasting barely long enough to leave an impression before Harry had shoved her away and wiped his lips, face expressing his urge to puke.

Ron had stayed to console his sister- the stupid bint had done it in the Entrance Hall, of all places, right when Harry was coming in from his early morning walk- as she was laughed at by the majority of the students who had seen the faux pas. Harry knew it would be all over the school before lunch, but yet he couldn't find it in himself to care about Ginny's feelings. He'd told her quite explicitly two years ago that they would never have a relationship, even if she was the last female on earth.

And given the fact that Harry had been gay for as long as he could recall, he really didn't care.

Harry stood abruptly and stalked out of the Tower, his Invisibility Cloak and Map securely tucked into his bag. He ignored the students around him, his black expression enough to keep them away for now. The hallways were eerily silent- not even Peeves was taking the risk of annoying him today- and he walked unmolested as he tried to order his thoughts.

Half of him wanted to stalk to the Headmasters office and kill the interfering old coot, but the other- and stronger- half wanted nothing more than to trudge down to the dungeons and find Snape. Harry swore viciously as he passed a suit of armor, ignoring the scandalized glances from the nearby portraits. He wanted to be left alone! He would have been perfectly happy not having to tell anyone he was in love with the sour bat of the dungeons!

Because really, who would believe him? Most would think it was only a prank, others that he was trying to get something from the dour man, while others would stare at him in disgust as they learned their precious Saviour was gay. Harry snorted angrily as he paced through the long corridors, not even thinking about where he was going. So when he looked up he saw in surprise that he was in Moaning Myrtles bathroom.

He passed a hand over his eyes, unutterably relieved that the ghost wasn't there. The last thing he needed was for one of his dead fans to start the Valentines Day bullshit with him. He wandered over to one of the stalls, letting a smile slip onto his lips as he recalled 2nd year. The days of brewing Polyjuice Potion to gather information were over, and he was glad.

Suddenly he turned to stare at the sinks, wondering how he could have forgotten about it. The perfect hiding place- one that no other human alive could enter, and was blissfully free of human taint. He ran over to the porcelain sink and hissed, "Open,", and smiled as he heard the passage begin to move. He cast a Scourgify down the dark tunnel, and threw his bag down. Following shortly as he heard a familiar nasally voice singing absently, Harry shut the portal just as Myrtle came into view.

He prayed fervently that she hadn't seen anything, and resolutely turned his attention to the area he had just entered. There was no visible difference from the few other times he had been here, except for the lack of filth coating the slide. Harry sighed in relief as he picked his way over the rubble, careful to watch where he stepped, and stopped as he entered the large chamber.

The huge snake still lay there, its massive body untouched by time. Harry started forward silently, eyes taking in the high ceilings and carved pillars. By the time he reached the chair at the far end of the Chamber, he had relaxed. No sound other than the ones he made, no sights other than what he had expected. It seemed strange to him that he could feel this at home in the hidden Chamber that his enemy had tried to kill him in, but he was.

For a moment he stood before the chair, looking at it for any trace of Voldemort- a foolish thought, but one he could not be rid of- before setting his bag down and sitting in the chair. For stone it was remarkably comfortable, and Harry breathed another sigh of relief as he relaxed. It was a long while before Harry let his thoughts wander to the reason this Valentines was so much more worrisome than others.

Severus Tobias Snape. Potions Master of Hogwarts. Death Eater and Spy for the Order. Trusted Servant of Voldemort. Friend of his mother, enemy of his father. Scary git of the dungeons. Most feared teacher at Hogwarts. He was all these things, and yet Harry could not fathom the reason he let himself love the black haired, black eyed, pale skinned older man.

A vision of the Slytherin popped into his head, and Harry had to acknowledge that one factor of his insane crush must be purely physical. The deep jet eyes seemed to stare into your soul, reading his thoughts and controlling his mind. All things Harry knew the man was capable of. But somehow these thoughts didn't repel Harry- no, they didn't.

His hair was long and as deeply black as his eyes, and it never failed to ensnare Harry. While potions and fumes may make it seem greasy, Harry had seen the Potions Master during the period when he had not had the chance to brew anything. And his hair had swung freely about his face when it was not bound, the silky strands caressing the stern visage and becoming part of Harry's dreams.

Dreams where that hair tickled his skin, tracing unseen patterns over Harry's stomach, and getting knotted as the Gryffindor's hands fisted in it. Harry shifted and changed his position in his seat. He wanted to touch that hair, wanted to touch it and see if he was mad to think that it was as soft as it had seemed those few days. Harry licked his dry lips and other images came to mind.

Thin, expressive lips that were often pressed together in a stern line, but Harry had seen them curve into a startling and unexpected smile. Lips that sneered and smirked and frowned, that were the gatekeepers to the voice that could melt Harry in his seat. Lips that he fantasized about- fantasies where they were pressed into his skin, perhaps curving into a smile as Harry pleased him.

Pale skin flashed before his eyes as Harry thought of long limbs entwined around his own, skin that glowed in any light. Harry breathed in a shaky breath as he envisioned those long, elegant fingers gripping him firmly as a lean body moved above him. A slim waist that could support his legs wrapped around it, the smooth silky skin bliss against Harry's coarser flesh.

Harry smothered a whimper as he sat in his seat, biting his lips to keep from making any noise in this silent Chamber. The mere thought of what the older man could do to him made Harry's limp cock fully erect, and he writhed in the chair as he tried to ignore the hardness. But visions of dark eyes plagued him, captured him and drew him in, and he let out a harsh breath as his hand slid under the band of his trousers to free himself.

Harry was lost as his mind supplied him with maybe's and what-if's, and his heavy breathing filled the Chamber as he succumbed to the rising tide of lust that swamped his body. He gazed around the large room with hazy eyes as he pumped harder, lips pressed together out of long habit (making sure no one knew whose name he wanted to scream was ingrained at this point), and chest heaving as his hand moved faster and faster.

Harry gasped soundlessly as his world whited-out, and went limp while he recovered. After a while he pulled his hand away and whispered a low cleaning spell, tucking himself away with the same breath. This was not the first time this had happened, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. Especially given the fact that the actual thing would never come to pass.

Harry looked around the room in embarrassment, bushing as he realized that he had just done that in Salazar's own rooms. But no one was there, and he relaxed again. The last thing he needed were pictures of himself jacking off all over the school. Because that was just the publicity he needed. Harry sighed and called up the time, arching a brow when he saw that it was noon. He'd wandered for about an hour, he knew that, but he'd sat here thinking about Snape for two hours? He was obsessed, and Dumbledore's potion wasn't helping.

It seemed every time Harry turned around he was in the Chamber of Secrets hiding from someone. Finally on Sunday night he let his frustration go, torching the room with his magic and screaming as he did so. Between Hermione and Ron acting all lovey-dovey, his own obsession with Snape, and Ginny's constant heated and suggestive glances, he was loosing it.

His mind was fraying from the stress of trying to find a suitable gift for Snape, Draco was being ever-so-unhelpfully-witty, and to top it all off Romilda Vane had stalked him for the better part of three hours this morning. So to say that he was tense would be an understatement. Finally he let the fires die down, exhausted but pleased that he could release his tension in such a satisfying way, and plopped onto the chair.

Burying his face in his hands, Harry groaned. There was no way he would be able to get something for the inscrutable teacher before tomorrow night, and unless he enlisted Dobby's help- which he wasn't planning on- he'd never get anything done. Harry growled as he called up the time, annoyed that it was already past curfew. For all he knew he'd get caught by Snape walking back to his rooms, and with his mind so out-of-his-control, he shuddered to think what would come of that encounter.

Standing he gave the room one last glance, his practiced eyes skipping over the corpse with ease, and walked out of the room. Halfway to the exit he tripped over something, and landed hard on his knees. Cursing, Harry cast a Lumos and glared at the piece of snake skin that he had forgotten about. He'd memorized the layout of the Chamber, and he was pissed that he was so out of sorts that he'd forgotten where something was.

Snarling Harry picked up the skin and threw it to the side, and immediately began walking out again. But something made him freeze, and he turned wide eyes back on the corpse. Basilisk. Snake. Potions. How could he have not seen this before?

Harry lit all of the torches with a wave of his hand, and stared at the basilisk. Now- how to get it to Snape?

Three hours later Harry crept along the corridors of Hogwarts, blessing his ability to move noiselessly and invisibly. His Cloak was now a safeguard, and he rarely used it, but he was wishing right now that he had the Cloak as well as the Map. Merlin only knew what would happen if someone shone a light into the corner he was hiding in. But the Map said no one was around him and he trusted it, stepping out of his current shadow and racing to the next one.

The bag slung over his shoulder was weightless, which was a good thing seeing how much Harry had managed to shove into it. Using Hermione's charm he'd expanded the bag, and the plain canvas satchel now held a kings ransom in rare potions ingredients. He hoped.

Nearly seventeen yards of basilisk scales, all of the fangs, fourteen oversize vials containing the blood that was still inside the corpse, and a shrunken bag containing the rest of the skin and scales were in the pack over his shoulder. Harry shuddered as he remembered the hours he had spent gathering all this for the Potions Master, trying not to retch as he did so. For Merlin's sake he hoped this was worth it; something Snape might need, couldn't find, and couldn't afford.

That's what Draco had advised, right? Well, Harry had met at least one of those requirements, and he prayed fervently that the rest were true.

Coming to a fork in the corridor, Harry once again consulted his Map. In this section of the dungeons only three people were about- Draco three hallways down, Greengrass one floor up but right above him, and Snape himself, patrolling one floor up and two hallways down. Harry let a quick grin slip onto his face as he saw the Snape dot meet the Greengrass dot, and the two begin to head to the Headmasters office. Good- more time for Harry.

He stopped in front of what the Map labeled "Severus Snape's Quarters," and licked his lips. Glancing down at the Map, he saw the words, 'I Serve No One' written in an elegant script, and gulped. Great- just the mindset he wanted the older man to have. Never mind that all of Harry's fantasies involved Snape doing whatever he wanted.

Taking a deep breath and saying the words lowly, Harry waited, tense, as nothing happened. Would Snape know he was here? Would the password allow him in? His fears were lain to rest as a section of the wall opened, and he slipped inside before he could chicken out. Harry held his breath until the door had shut behind him, and only when he had glanced at the Map to ensure his safety did he take the bag off of his shoulder.

Going over to the table that was the center of the modestly decorated room- Harry tried not to notice anything else, he was intruding enough already- he put the bag down and began to set up the offering.

When he was finished he stepped back and admired his handy work. The bag was slightly open, with some of the silvery green scales showing through, and arrayed on the table. Harry hoped that Snape would look into the bag before burning it, and pulled the map out of his pocket. Snape was wandering the fourth floor, and Greengrass was safely in the Slytherin Common Room.

As he turned to leave, Harry paused, wondering if he should leave a note. But he scoffed at himself, and shook his head. What would it say? 'Dear Professor Snape, Please take this offering as a token of my regard. Ever yours, Harry Potter.' Yeah- because that wouldn't confirm Snape's already low opinion of Harry. Harry snorted and let himself out, falling easily into the habit of gliding from shadow to shadow as he made his way back to the Tower.

Entering the Room, Harry was pleasantly surprised to see that it was empty. Taking a chair in front of the fire, he cast his strongest Notice-Me-Not spell and pulled the Map out of his back pocket. Opening it up he settled in to follow Snape's progress.

At around two thirty Harry noticed that Snape was making his way to his quarters, and he sat up straight in excitement. Moments later the Map showed Snape entering his rooms, and halting abruptly. Harry held his breath as the Map showed the man casting spells at the bag- no doubt to divine it's purpose- before walking over and taking hold of it. Since the Map didn't show the bag Harry had to guess as to what was happening, but by the way Snape turned and ran to the Potions Classroom, Harry guessed he was excited.

Satisfied that for now Snape had accepted his present, he tapped the Map and whispered, "Mischief Managed". Folding it up as he dismissed the Notice-Me-Not, he walked up to his dorm room, noting that for once he didn't feel the tugging near his heart that told him to get Snape a present. He smiled as he fell asleep.

"Mr. Potter," the dark voice called, "Stay behind." Harry shrugged at Ron and Hermione's quizzical glances- aside from being absurdly tired due to the hour he had finally gone to sleep he hadn't done anything- he packed up his bag and made his way to the front. Draco raised an aristocratic brow at the Gryffindor, but Harry just mimicked the shrug he had given to his best friends and turned to face the teacher.

When all the students had gone, Snape waved his hand and shut the door, locking it as he did so. Harry controlled the sudden urge to tell the man every bad thing he had ever done, and waited as Snape studied him.

Finally Snape pursed his lips and frowned at the student, unaware of the effect he had on Harry. Harry swallowed thickly, and Snape snapped, "What do you know of Basilisks', Potter?" Harry raised an astonished brow, before the meaning of the words sank in. He knows that I left it for him! He knows why!

But he managed to get out, "Not as much as some people assume I would know, sir." Snape's expression blackened at the words, and Harry belatedly realized the way that his words had sounded. Trying again, he added, "But I know enough about them to that Hagrid always calls on me to answer his questions on them."

Snape studied Harry for another moment, then seemed to come to a decision. Reaching under his desk, the teacher withdrew a bag that was very familiar to Harry. Placing it on the table, Snape gestured to it idly. "Is this bag familiar to you?"

Harry nodded jerkily, and Snape frowned at him like the Gryffindor was a puzzle to be figured out. "Can you tell me what is in it?" Harry just ignored the question, instead wishing that the floor would open up and swallow him. Snape let the question hang for a moment, then reached inside the bag and pulled out a handful of scales. "What are these?" He asked, as though speaking to a small child.

Harry glanced up swiftly, and muttered, "Basilisk scales." Snape nodded, and replaced the handful. Taking out a vial of red fluid he raised an expectant eyebrow. "Basilisk blood." Harry was considering running away but knew that he wouldn't get three feet before Snape Immobilized him. Harry waited for Snape to hold up the last item, knowing that his life would soon end. Really- how else would Snape take the news? "Fangs."

Snape regarded the student in front of him with a ferocious frown. Why had Potter taken the time to gather these things, and then deny responsibility? What was he missing? Harry shifted as that dark gaze burned into him, and desperately wished to be dismissed. Was it really worth it? Was having Snape know his deepest secret worth the chance he had taken in bringing these items to the Potions Master?

"Mr. Potter," Snape began, but paused when the Gryffindor flinched. He stared for a moment at the bowed head and the slumped shoulders before beginning again. "Mr. Potter. Do you know what a single Basilisk scale is worth on the open market?" Harry shook his head, waiting for the teacher to tell him that they were a Knut for a dozen. "Nine hundred and forty seven Galleons, thirteen Sickles, and twelve Knuts." Harry had raised his head to stare at Snape in disbelief before he remembered that this teacher was known for his unstable temper. But he couldn't care. All that for one scale? Was the older man having him on? But Snape just watched Harry, and Harry stared back. That was not possible.

"You see, Mr. Potter, when a magical creature has special properties, Potions Masters around the world will sell their soul for the ingredient, be it a scale, tooth, claw, or eye. When said magical creature is believed to be extinct, the prices for the remaining ingredients soar until it is impossible to procure even a shaving of a… scale, for example." Snape regarded Harry closely, and added, "And that is on the open market. In the black market there is no telling what people will do to get their hands on such priceless materials." The teacher raised his brow, and folded his hands in front of him.

"Now the question remains, Mr. Potter. Why would someone leave a bag containing all of the elements of a Basilisk on my table? So I may use them as I please? Or is it a twisted scheme to have smugglers and thieves follow me for the rest of my life?"

Harry stared at Snape, the words not making any sense. He was still caught in the fact that he had been sitting on enough money to pay England's National Debt twenty seven times over, and the only thing he'd done with it was use it as a morbid decoration. But then Snape's last words sank in, and he frowned.

"No! They're yours. I'd never do that to y-" Harry cut himself off as Snape nodded, realizing what he had done. Now the older man knew Harry had given it to him, by his own admission, and he was screwed.

"Now, Mr. Potter." Harry reluctantly looked up at the Professor, and Snape went on, "Why would you do such a thing?" Harry evaded the searching black eyes, and desperately tried to think of anything else. The silence in the room grew until Snape made a sound of annoyance, and Harry jerked. "Tell me why you have done such a thing, Potter."

"Because I had to, alright?" Harry started as the words ripped out of his throat, and he blushed. Snape raised an incredulous brow, and Harry looked away. "It was Dumbledore's stupid potion." he muttered, and resettled his bag on his shoulder as he turned around.

"Where do you think you are going, Mr. Potter?" Snape's deep voice sent chills down Harry's spine, and he urgently tried to dispel the shivers that raced through him.

"I thought I'd embarrassed myself enough for today, sir." Harry replied, and began walking towards the door. Before he had gone three feet, however, Snape was standing in front of him and blocking his way. Harry shied away from the taller man, startled by the sudden proximity. But Snape just watched him, and Harry felt the familiar touch of the man's mind brushing against his own. But there was a difference between this gentle touch and the brutal invasions of fifth year, this time Snape was asking permission to enter, and waiting for Harry to give it.

Harry stared into the mans eyes as he felt a frail hope bubble up inside of him. Perhaps Snape didn't think it was ridiculous that Harry felt this way? Before he could change his mind Harry let Snape enter, and sat back.

The searching was gentle, Snape brushing over the things that didn't concern him and watching only the memories that featured him. Of which there were many. Harry blushed as Snape settled down to watch the memories of the last thee days, and hastily hid the memories of dreams and solitary moments where Snape was featured prominently. But Snape brushed against Harry, softly, wanting to see the hidden memories, and after a minute Harry gave up.

Time passed by as Snape watched every memory of this past weekend, and Harry stayed as far away from the man as was possible, seeing as how they were both inside his head. But when Snape came to the memory of Harry's early-morning dream he couldn't stay away. The dream was still too fresh, too enticing, and Harry found himself drawn in.

… a hand was wrapped around his straining cock, and Harry gasped as a thumb traced his slit. He threw his head back as another hand ran up and down his ribs, lightly circling his nipple before racing back down to cup his hip. Harry canted his hips up and into the hand surrounding him, and mewled as a warm breath was blown across the head of his dick.

Suddenly the very head of his cock was sucked into the warm cavern, and Harry gasped as a curious tongue flicked over his slit. His hips bucked uncontrollably, and the hand that had been roaming his body came back to his hip and pressed down, holding Harry steady as hand and mouth worked pure magic on his body.

Harry reached down and grabbed a handful of soft black hair, writhing under the skillful ministrations of Snape's mouth. The hand that was not busy holding Harry's hip let go of his rigid cock and reached lower to cup his balls, leaving Snape's mouth room to take in more and more of Harry's erection. Harry stared at the ceiling as Snape tormented him, knowing that looking down to see what Snape looked like when he did this would undo him. And he wanted this to last for as long as it could.

Harry gasped as Snape let his teeth scrape over his shaft gently, and twisted under Snape as much as the older man would allow. Soon Snape left off his teasing and drew all of Harry into his mouth, ignoring the startled gasp of the teen. Harry cried out as Snape raised and lowered his head, mimicking the actual act. It was over in mere moments, and Harry screamed as pure ecstasy raced through his body…

Harry came to as Snape left his mind, and looked about wildly to get his bearings. The first thing he noticed were the arms wrapped around his waist, pressing him into a tall, warm body. He looked up, right into Snape's dark eyes, and gulped as the man stared down at him inscrutably. Harry released the hold he had of Snape's shirt and tried to back away but Snape was having none of it, and tightened his hold on the Gryffindor.

"You are determined to cause trouble, aren't you, Potter?" Snape asked, his voice deep and velvety as he watched Harry. One elegant hand came up to caress Harry's cheek, and he added musingly, "I partook of the potion as well, Potter." Harry swallowed as Snape angled his face up, "And I have yet to give my love a gift."

Warm, thin lips covered Harry's, shocking him into immobility. But Snape was not to be ignored, and the insistent lips coaxed Harry into responding. The teen was lost in the sensations, lost as his dreams became reality and he finally met Snape fully. The kiss heated, and Harry clung to his teacher as more and more of his mind blanked out from the impossible pleasure of this act.

Snape broke away, though, and looked down at the Gryffindor in his arms. Harry's eyes were half-closed, and he looked up at Snape through his lashes. The skin across Harry's face was flushed, and full lips were parted and plump from Snape's kisses. Snape ran the pad of his thumb over the ruby lips, and smiled slightly as Harry moaned under his breath and pressed ever closer.

"You will go to all of your classes," Snape said, and Harry nodded to show he understood. "And after dinner you will go to my rooms and let yourself in." Snape paused, and smiled. Harry stared at the transformed face of the older man, and licked his lips in anticipation. "We shall see what happens from there."

Harry nodded once again, and Snape pressed another kiss to the lips he could grow addicted to. "You may call me Severus, Harry," the Slytherin said, and added, "but only in private."

Harry pressed against the taller man as Severus spoke, and smiled lazily into black eyes. "Severusss," he hissed, experimenting with the name, and rubbed his cheek against the smooth skin of his Professor's neck. "I like it." Severus shivered at the sound of the Parseltongue coming from the Gryffindor's mouth, and claimed the full, pouting lips for another burning kiss.

"Go," he said, pulling back, "Or you will be late for Minerva." He didn't add that Harry was already late, but the teen knew that. Untangling himself from the arms surrounding him, Harry smiled up at Severus as he gathered his things. He walked to the door, relishing the feel of black eyes following him, and slipped free of the dark classroom. Harry paused a few corridors down, and let a smirk slip onto his face.

Perhaps Dumbledore had known what he was doing after all.

SQUEE!!

There it is, all nice and smutty for you! Lol- so, read, review, and check out my other stuff, and CIH's stuff!

Ta,

Netrixie