Three days later:

Draco was supposed to meet her at the library, but he was late, and Hermione decided to go over to the Slytherin portrait hole and wait for him there. He had to return there eventually, and then she could catch him and speak with him about his tardiness. Tardiness, she thought, stifling a giggle. Merlin’s pants, but I sound like some middle-aged Headmistress or professor or something. But I sure don’t feel that way. For the first time ever, she felt like every other teenage girl smitten with a guy, all fluttery and eager and happy. She couldn’t stop smiling, and for once she was grateful that her parents had insisted she get braces when she was six, because now she wasn’t afraid to grin widely, since her teeth were perfectly straight. Her braces had come off last year and now she only wore a retainer.

She tapped a foot against the stone floor and wondered where on earth Draco could be. It was after dinner and he had promised to meet her again in the library, so they could study for Charms together and Defense, which had never been her strong suit. But she was an ace at Charms and he was the same with Defense, so they complimented each other. Then too, she really enjoyed spending time with him. To her surprise, he was not an arrogant snob, but witty and suave and he could poke fun at himself when he needed to. He was also very bright, with an intelligence that matched hers, and she was delighted to find a boy that wasn't intimidated by her brains. If anything, he was proud of her intelligence. “I’ve got the smartest witch in the school for my girlfriend and nobody else can even come close.”

When she had told that to Ginny and Lavender, both girls had told her Draco was definitely a keeper. Any boy who valued a girl’s mind over her body was first rate in their book, because that was a rare attitude among teenage boys. Most of them had eyes only for the girls with the biggest breasts or the prettiest face.

As she waited, she began to review her Charms notes in her head, and she had almost gotten to the end of the afternoon’s lesson when Pansy Parkinson strode over to the portrait hole, looking as if she were about to have a hissy fit. She caught sight of Hermione and stopped dead.

“What are you doing here, Granger? Forget the way to your own common room?”

“Hardly, Parkinson. I’m waiting for Draco. Any idea where he is?”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed and a spiteful look crept over her pug-like features. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because we . . .had a study date,” Hermione told the other girl shyly.

Pansy threw back her head and laughed. “A study date, she says! Granger, you’re so lame! Is that all you know how to do with a boy? Study? I’ll bet you’ve never even kissed a guy.”

Hermione’s eyes flashed. “Then you’d be wrong,” she shot back, and smiled sweetly at the other girl.

Pansy scowled. “Liar. The only guy who’d kiss you, Granger, would be a total nerd.”

“Oh really? Then you think Draco’s a nerd?”

Pansy’s jaw dropped. “Draco? Draco Malfoy? You expect me to believe that he actually kissed you?”

Hermione just smiled.

Pansy turned an unattractive shade of pasty white and then red. “How much did you pay him? Five Galleons?”

“Shut your mouth, Parkinson! I’m not a . . .a slut!”

“If the shoe fits . . .” cackled Pansy nastily.

“Takes one to know one, huh?” Hermione managed to get out, longing to slam the smirking Pansy a good one. She kept her temper by the slimmest of margins.

Pansy doubled up her fist. “You calling me a whore?”

“No, you did that yourself,” Hermione told her.

Pansy’s wand was in her hand. “You’re asking for an arse-kicking, Granger. Too bad I don’t have time to give you one.” Her stubby finger poked Hermione in the chest. “Listen, Granger, and listen good. Draco was mine before he was ever yours and he’ll always be mine. Now go find one of your own kind to date, Gryffie bitch!”

Before Hermione could let her have it, she turned and stalked into the portrait hole.

“Draco is my kind , you ignorant, bubbleheaded, shallow, hag from hell!” she found herself shouting.

“Glad to hear it. Otherwise, I’d be worried,” came a familiar voice from behind her.

She whirled about. “Draco! You’re late.”

“Sorry, Mione,” he apologized. “I . . .uh got sidetracked playing some one-on-one Quidditch with Harry. Who were you shouting at?” he asked, standing about two feet from her, wearing his black robes and smiling that sweet smile she loved, his grey eyes dancing.

“Pansy. She came up and tried to start something with me. Did you used to . . ah date or something?”

Draco grimaced. “Or something. It wasn’t something I chose, believe me. Our families had an . . .agreement, but once I turned my back on the way of the Death Eaters, her father broke it off. Only Pansy didn’t agree with it.”

“Oh. I guess that’s why she thinks you belong to her then.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Unbearable twit! I belong to myself.” He dusted off his robes.

“That’s what I told her. Do you . . .do you still want to go and study?” she asked awkwardly, wishing she knew of something else to talk about. Maybe Pansy’s right and I really am lame. I’ve been friends with two guys for years and I still don’t know how to talk to one.

“Sure, Mione. Uh . . .you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”

“No. I . . .like it,” she smiled brightly. “It’s sweet.”

He smiled back. “Sweet’s okay. But I don’t do cute.”

“Don’t you? Because I think you’re very cute,” she blurted before she could stop and think. Oh my goodness! Did I just say that out loud? Was that bad? What if he thinks I’m . . .a tramp?

“Now that I can do, Mione.” He reached out and ran his fingers through her thick hair. “Have I told you how much I love your hair? It’s thick and springy and perfect for me to play with.”

She snickered. “I didn’t know you had a hair fetish, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Only for your hair,” he replied huskily, then he tangled his hands in it and brought her mouth down on his. Then all he could think about was how much he adored the taste of strawberries on her tongue. Ahh, so sweet, Merlin! But I wish this never ended.

The two were so caught up in their own involvement that they failed to hear the sound of footfalls behind them.

Severus was heading into the common room to speak with his Slytherins about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, reminding his House to behave with dignity and decorum to the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, when he came upon a sight that stopped him dead in his tracks.

His son and . . .Hermione Granger were kissing in the hallway.

In a very public display of affection.

Now Severus knew quite well that Draco had started seeing Hermione, the boy had told him a few days ago, wanting to make certain his doing so caused no friction in his new family. Severus had reassured him that his choice was fine, but he hadn’t thought it had gotten much beyond the hand-holding stage.

Apparently he had been wrong. Dead wrong.

Dear sweet Merlin! Are they going to come up for air any time soon? He wondered inanely, then he cleared his throat pointedly. “Mr. Malfoy. Miss Granger. This is not a subject you two should be studying.”

The two sprang apart as if he had cast a Stinging Hex on them.

“P-Professor Snape!” cried Hermione, her face coloring a brilliant scarlet. “We . . .uh . . .were just . . .”

“Dad, it’s not . . .err . . .what it looked like . . .” Draco fumbled for some excuse, but his mind was a blank.

“Oh?” One eyebrow rose sharply. “On the contrary, I think it was exactly what it looked like.”

“No, you don’t understand, sir, we were going to do homework,” Hermione stammered.

“And what homework would that be? If I recall, Hogwarts curriculum doesn’t have Learning to Breathe During Kissing 101, Miss Granger,” said Severus dryly.

Draco went beet red. “Dad, please! We really were just gonna study. But then . . .”

Severus eyed his son sternly. “But then you got distracted by Miss Granger’s pretty face, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Draco said, embarrassed and annoyed. “Kissing’s not a crime, you know.”

Severus frowned. “Don’t get cheeky with me, mister.” He folded his arms across his chest, playing the role of stern patriarch to the hilt. “I had intended to have this discussion with you tomorrow, but it would seem there’s no time like the present.”

“What discussion?”

“The one I had with your brother a few days ago,” answered his father. “Miss Granger, if you will excuse us, I need to speak with my son privately.”

“Yes, sir. He’s not in trouble, is he, sir?” she cried, feeling incredibly guilty as well as horrendously embarrassed.

“Only if he fails to turn in his homework. I would suggest you return to your common room and begin yours, Miss Granger. This will not be a quick conversation.”

“Understood, sir. Draco, I’ll . . .see you in class,” she said, then waved and fled back up the stairs.

“Bye, Hermione,” Draco called, then he turned and glared at his father. “Hell, Dad, did you have to just totally embarrass me in front of my girlfriend?”

“Draco, we’ll discuss this in my quarters. I won’t have an argument here in the hallway for everyone to witness,” Severus said abruptly, then he took his son by the arm and led him down past the portrait hole to his private rooms, his black cloaking billowing like a pair of ebony wings behind him.

“Why not?” Draco muttered sullenly. “You embarrassed me in public, turnabout’s only fair.”

“Draco!” Severus reprimanded, then unlocked his door with a flick of his wrist and dragged his offspring inside.

After locking the door and ensuring that the privacy wards were in place, Severus pointed to the sofa and indicated Draco should sit down. The blond teen threw himself upon the comfy hunter green sectional with a huff, his cheeks still tinged with red. “Why did you have to confront us like that?” he sulked. “Why couldn’t you just play it cool and walk away, like other people’s fathers?”

“None of this would be necessary, mister, if you limited your displays of affection somewhere that was not in the middle of the hallway where everyone can see them!” Severus shot back. “Do you think I enjoyed doing that to you, Draco? I assure you, the last thing I expected was to come upon you and Miss Granger kissing passionately in front of the Slytherin common room.”

“It was just a kiss. What’s the big deal? It’s not like I was groping her or something. Lucius wouldn’t have—”

“Wouldn’t have said anything? Would have given you pointers?” Severus demanded sharply. “Might I remind you that you are my son now, and not his? And what he found acceptable behavior, I do not. I have different standards than he did—”

“I know. Impossible ones.”

“Sulking is for five year olds, stop it immediately!” Severus told him, his hands on his hips. “I know Lucius was rather casual in regards to you having relationships in school with girls, like many purebloods, he saw nothing wrong with a mere “schoolboy romance”. I, however, am a teacher here, and as such I have certain standards of discipline and decorum to maintain, Draco. And so do my sons.”

“You said it was fine if Hermione and I went out.”

“I have no objections to that, Draco, I told you already you may choose whomever you wish to date, so long as it does not interfere with your schoolwork and grades. But—”

“It wasn’t!” Draco interrupted. “We were really going to study, but I just wanted to give her a kiss first. What’s wrong with that?”

Severus sighed. Then he went to sit down next to his son, figuring he was being too intimidating and getting the teen’s back up. “Nothing, if done in private, not in the middle of the corridor. Draco, think about how it looked. You don’t want to ruin her reputation do you? Or your own?”

“I’ll hex anyone who calls her names!”

“Draco, that’s not the point. You need to learn a little self-control, son. Before you take it too far one day.”

“Merlin, Dad! We have one kiss-and yeah it was incredible—but still! And you’re already acting like we were caught naked in the broom closet. Give me a break, please! Hermione’s not a slut, she’d never have pre-marital sex.”

“I am delighted to hear that she has scruples, Draco. I would hope you believe the same. But I know all too well how teenagers can get carried away. That’s why I brought you here, so we could discuss—”

“Dad, I don’t need to hear this,” Draco began, squirming. Bloody hell, no! Not this, please Lord! “I already know how to get a girl pregnant.”

Wait, that so did NOT come out right, Draco thought frantically, but it was too late.

“An accomplishment to be proud of, no doubt,” drawled Severus, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “However, you’re going to sit here and listen to me tell you how not to make a girl pregnant, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I know about protection, Dad. You think I’m stupid?” Draco snapped, his face now turning the color of the Gryffindor banner. He jumped to his feet.

“What you are is in danger of getting grounded, mister. Sit, now!”

“I don’t believe this!” his son grumbled rebelliously. He threw himself back down on the couch.

“Mind the attitude,” warned his father.

“I am!”

“And the tone. Unless you wish to miss the first Quidditch match of the year.”

Draco blanched. “You wouldn’t! I’m the best Seeker Slytherin has!”

“That may be, but Seekers can be replaced,” Severus growled, leaning over and glaring into his stubborn offspring’s eyes. “Keep up the disrespect and I will yank you off the team so fast your arse will still be attached to your broom. Clear?”

Draco gulped, for the look in Snape’s eyes would have petrified a demon from hell in ten seconds. “Okay. Sorry, sir.” Draco apologized. This sucks! First Lucius and now Severus, he groaned inwardly.

“Apology accepted, Dragon.” Severus cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. He had hoped that this time around “the talk” would be less awkward, but draco wasn’t making things easy for him, the rebellious brat.

Draco rolled his eyes. “All right, let’s hear your words of wisdom, father of mine,” he prompted. “I need to study, remember?”

Severus gritted his teeth and controlled the urge to cuff the boy around the living room. “Draco Michael, you are getting on my last nerve. Now shut your mouth and listen!”

Recognizing that he was teetering on the brink of the abyss of Snape’s temper, Draco wisely clamped his mouth shut and let Snape continue.

Severus gave Draco the same lecture he had Harry that other night, telling him about Contraceptix and the tea and charms you could cast and also gave Draco the same handouts he had Harry. Draco took them with a sigh, he had heard all of this before and didn’t see why he had to endure the same embarrassing lecture all over again. But neither did he want to make Severus angry and risk getting grounded or banned from Qudditch. He knew better than to test Severus, for the man was famous for doing exactly what he promised—especially to members of his own House. Or his sons.

At last the whole parental advice and practice safe sex lecture was over with and Severus summoned Dobby to make them a tray of tea and cinnamon scones, which he knew Draco particularly enjoyed. “There, now that wasn’t so bad, was it? You’re still alive.”

“Barely,” Draco drawled insolently. “I nearly died of boredom.”

“Boredom? Are you saying that I’m boring, you impudent scoundrel?” demanded Severus, pretending to be insulted.

“As Binns,” Draco smirked.

“You dare . . .?” the Potions Master cried. “You need a good lesson in respect, boy!”

“Right,” his son snickered. “That’ll put me to sleep too.”

An instant later he found himself hauled across Severus’s lap, and he stiffened, sure that he had gone too far, but all Severus did was give him a few light taps on the bum and then tickle him unmercifully on the backs of his knees.

Draco was helplessly writhing and howling with laughter in two minutes. In the next minute he was begging for Snape to stop. “Dad—PLEASE! Stop! I’ll . . .hahahaha . . .behave!” Draco wriggled, laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face.

“Will you? I think not.” Severus said, smirking evilly. His fingers found the tender spot under his son’s arm and began to tickle.

Draco screeched. “Ahhh! No . . .oh no . . .not there . . .Dad, please! I’ll be good!” He dissolved into a fit of unrestrained giggles.

“Have I your word then?”

“Yes, sir. Promise!” he gasped, twitching.

“Very well. Lesson learned.” And then Severus released him.

Draco scooted over to the far end of the couch, the occasional giggle still escaping him, and wiped his face with one of Severus’s handkerchiefs. “You’re really mean, Dad.”

Severus shrugged. “Next time mind your manners, Draco Michael, and you won’t be punished.”

“That’s not punishment—it’s torture!”

“As it is torture for me to have a disrespectful child,” returned Severus, chuckling. “Drink your tea, Dragon,” he indicated the tray upon the table.

Draco began fixing himself a cup, then froze. “Bloody hell, Dad! Dobby came back when you were . . .doing that to me . . .?” Horror crept over his features.

“Yes. He found it quite amusing.”

“Great! Now the whole school will know.” Draco groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Quit being so dramatic, Dragon. Dobby knows how to be discreet.”

“Sure he does. Just wait. Tomorrow everyone will be talking about Tickle Me Draco.”

“Stop. Dobby knows better than to speak of anything he hears or sees in my quarters. I have been a spy too long to ever ruin my cover by trusting a blabbing house elf. When Harry freed him and he came to work here, I requested that he not speak of anything he observed in my quarters if he happened to be here. He agreed. So there is no need for hysterics.”

At that, Draco jerked his face from his hands and cried, “I am not hysterical. Merlin, Dad! You make me sound like a whimpering little girl. You were so concerned about reputation, remember?”

“That was different. Having a reputation for being fast and loose with women is not one I want associated with you, Draco. That’s why I’m harping on you now, son. Because once given, a bad reputation is hard to overcome. Take it from one who knows.”

Draco nodded, understanding perfectly where his dad was coming from. The reputation Severus had cultivated as a spy of the “Greasy Git” and the “Terror of the Dungeons” was legend, and it would take awhile before the students adjusted to mere Professor Snape, strict but fair Potions Master, who was the parent of two of their classmates, and actually washed his hair, for that had been part of his spy persona that he had abandoned upon returning from Prince Manor.

That had nearly caused a significant portion of the student body to go into cardiac arrest. Or faint dead away. And one or two of the faculty members too.

That had caused much amusement for the Snapes for weeks and even now it could still make them laugh, recalling the gap-jawed, slack-faced looks on the students’ faces when Severus had walked into potions minus the oil in his locks. Harry swore you would have thought the class had been put under a Silencing Charm when they first caught sight of Severus with his gently waving shiny squeaky-clean hair flowing down his back.

That had been followed by gasps of shock from the female portion of the class, who now saw their professor for the sexy man he was when not in school, and caused the male portion to gape and wish their hair was so silky and ebony-colored, with blue-black highlights. And girls stared at them like they wanted to eat them with a spoon. But by far the funniest moment, according to his two sons, was when Severus had grown tired of all the whispers whenever his back was turned, and had spun about and marched up inbetween the cauldrons and yelled, “Go on! Get a good look! Had enough now? It’s a bloody miracle, right? The Greasy Git is no more. Get used to it.”

There had been dead silence for about twenty seconds, and many blushes and stammers.

Then Snape had turned and strode back to his desk, and first Harry and then Draco stood up and applauded him, followed by several Slytherins and Ron and Hermione.

Snape had whirled back around. “You have something to say?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry spoke up, when it appeared his father’s angry-Horntail act had frozen the others into silence. “We do. We all want to say thank you, Professor Snape.”

“For what, Mr. Snape?”

“For saving our arses, all of us, even when we didn’t deserve it.” Harry had replied sincerely.

Severus blinked, and for once, had no snappy comeback. “Finish your assignments,” he ordered gruffly, before turning about to hide his pleased smile.

Remembering that moment made Draco chuckle aloud now, and when Severus asked what was so funny, he tugged on his blond locks and answered, “Hair. You know.”

And the next sound heard in Snape’s quarters was two men laughing uproariously. Or it would have been if the wards had not been up.

“Uh . . .I really do have homework I should be doing,” Draco said after he could talk once more.

“Yes, and I have an announcement to make to the House,” Severus nodded. “Come, Dragon.”

This time Draco followed without protest.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, Pansy stormed into her room, in a black mood, and promptly hexed the quivering Amanda Gibbons, a firstie, into a polka-dot skinned mess. The younger girl fled wailing to Prefect Amber Sorensen, who removed the hex in a minute and told the girl to avoid Pansy like the plague, the temperamental bitch. She went and confronted the furious Pansy and informed her in no uncertain terms that her attitude wasn’t going to be tolerated anymore. “Snape’s new rules, Parkinson. Meaning you ain’t allowed to use your temper as an excuse to hex firsties and you can’t hide behind the fact that you’re daddy’s little girl either, ‘cause who your dad is doesn’t count for crap anymore. Do it again and I’ll have you scrubbing all the toilets in the castle for weeks.”

“Fine! Tell the brat I’m sorry!” Pansy had snapped. “Now get out!”

“Prefect Sorensen.”

“What?”

“That’s get out, Prefect Sorensen. Show me some respect, girl.” Amber growled, as a seventh year she could beat Pansy in a duel without even blinking.

Pansy sullenly repeated what Amber had said and the prefect had left.

The furious girl thought about smashing all of her vials of perfume, cold cream, and Hair Elixir, because it was unbelievable that her Draco had dared to go out with that . . .that nerdy bitch from Muggleville, Granger! How dare he throw her over for that bushy-haired, whey-faced, walking encyclopedia. She probably needed a manual to show her how to kiss a guy correctly, Pansy thought spitefully. Drakie, how could you? How COULD you?

“Arghh!” she shrieked, and then broke two of her least favorite perfumes. “I hate you!”

She wasn’t sure right then who she hated more—Draco for betraying her with the Gryffindor ho, or Hermione for stealing away what had always been hers. He was supposed to marry me, we were promised in everything but name, and I won’t let her have him. No way in hell! If he doesn’t want me, then he won’t have anyone!

Filled with a poisonous jealousy mingled with a terrible need for vengeance, Pansy opened her trunk and rummaged through it. “Where is it?” she muttered. “I know it’s here somewhere. Betsy gave it to me before she married Antoine.” She threw several expensive pairs of shoes and boxes of jewelry and other items upon the floor before finding what she sought. “Ah ha! Here you are!”

She cradled a small black book to her chest, simpering. On the cover, in bold red script were the words How To Bind A Man To You in Ten Days or Less. Her elder sister Betsy had passed the book down to Pansy, saying it was something no girl who wanted to keep a man should be without. She had received it from her Aunt Mortentia when she was Pansy’s age, and it had served her well. “Just don’t ever show it to anyone, or get caught using it, little sister,” Betsy had cautioned. “The old prudes at school think these spells are borderline dark magic. Ha! Not quite. But they’ll solve your problem of getting a boyfriend now that Father’s forbidden you to date that delicious Draco.”

Pansy hummed happily to herself and cleaned up the articles on the floor with a wave of her wand. Then she curled up on her bed and began to read. She had almost gotten through the first chapter when she was summoned down to the House common room for Snape to discuss the Triwizard Tournament again with them.

She saw Draco standing by his adoptive father and sighed dreamily before recalling that he had done the ultimate sin and chosen a Gryffindor whore over herself and he needed to be punished for it.

I’ll make you regret that, Draco dearest. Pansy thought grimly, licking her lips. But after, you’ll be my sweetheart again, and then we’ll be happy and I’ll steal my trust fund from Daddy’s vault and we can live off that in Paris.

Happily ensconced in her wicked fantasies, Pansy gave her Head of House half an ear, and as soon as Snape had wrapped up his talk, she returned to her room and spent the night learning the spells in the little black book by heart.

* * * * * *

“Harry!” Draco called to his little brother as they exited the Quidditch pitch after a practice game two days later. “Got a question for you.”

Harry turned and slowed, allowing his green-uniformed brother to catch up to him. “What is it, Draco?”

Draco lowered his voice then asked, “Did Dad give you the bloody talk too?”

Harry flushed and nodded. “Yeah. Guess he felt we needed it since we’re uh, involved.” He winced. “Was it bloody awful for you too?”

Draco shuddered. “It’s on my top ten list of things to never put my kids through, assuming Hermione and I are still together after seventh year.”

“Tell me about it. I wanted to die right there, but then I realized it wouldn’t be fair to just keel over and leave Katie in the lurch.” Harry sniggered.

“Same here. Only he caught Mione and I kissing.”

“No way! What did you do? I would have Apparated myself into a wall.”

“I wanted to, believe me,” Draco admitted, relating the incident and blushing ferociously.

Harry started to laugh, but then stopped at Draco’s hurt glare. “Sorry. But it’s well . . . .kind of funny when you think about it.”

“Maybe to you. But think how you would’ve felt if Dad had caught you and Katie snogging.”

“Point taken.”

Draco sneezed rapidly. “Damn this cold! If Dad sees he’ll make me take a Decongestion Draft, and I bloody hate them.”

Harry thought a moment. “I’ve got a Nasal Elixir in my trunk. It doesn’t taste that bad, and it’ll keep you from sneezing for about a day.”

“Oh wonderful! Can you get it for me?”

Harry Summoned it wordlessly and handed it to his brother. “Take it just before you go to sleep. Next morning you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, little brother,” Draco said gratefully. He returned to his room just long enough to place the vial upon his nightstand and then it was time for dinner and he was starving.

Little did he know a pair of squinty eyes were watching him.

Pansy smirked selfishly, then spelled the lock open and went inside the fourth-year dormitory. It was time for some much-needed payback, for no one rejected Pansy Maleficence Parkinson and got away with it. Not even pureblood scions of the Malfoy bloodline.

She examined each of the beds in turn, finally recognizing which one was Draco’s by the initials upon the trunk at the foot. She drew her wand and tapped it thoughtfully against the bedpost. Hmm . . .where shall I start?

Then her eye alighted upon the vial of potion of the nightstand. Ah. Now that will do nicely.

* * * * * *

Draco returned from a most enjoyable dinner with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Katie, whistling and trying to keep his sniffly nose to a minimum. It was then he recalled Harry’s Nasal Elixir upon his nightstand and went to his room to drink it down.

The draft flowed down his throat smooth as silk, and Harry had been right, it tasted ten times better than the usual potions for colds that Snape brewed. He undressed and lay down, waiting for it to start working. He yawned, he was feeling sort of sleepy.

A second later he was freezing and then a sudden fever came over him, the wave of heat spread all through him, causing him to sweat. He was puzzled, because such drafts normally didn’t react like that. Little did he know there had been an addition to that potion by a wicked jealous girl.

A few minutes later, Draco began to toss and turn, shivering violently, unquenchable desire sweeping through him, a raging inferno that could not be slaked. I need . . .oh dear Merlin . . .what the hell is wrong with me? Draco whimpered, for he was in agony, his groin aching and burning.

He stumbled to his feet, clenching his teeth, and made his way out of his room and out the portrait hole. Dad. Got to get my father.

He made it halfway down the corridor to Snape’s rooms before collapsing.

Smidgen, who had been coming to check up on Draco before bed, as was her wont, felt his acute distress and blinked to his side. :Master Draco! What has happened? Are you ill?:

“Smidgen . . .get help . . .my father . . .”

:At once, Master Draco!: then the shimmerling blinked away to find Severus, leaving Draco weakly convulsing upon the floor, suffering the torment of the Unfaithful Lover.