"Merlin, I hope the … bed doesn't give way."

"I don't pay you ... for conversation," Severus ground out as he slammed himself into the attractive young hooker beneath him.

"I'm not...ah... complaining, mind you. But..." Continuing after a moment, "What's gotten into ya?"

"Nor do I... pay you to ask... questions." Severus gripped tightly onto the sinuous arms of his prostitute, growling as he climaxed.

He had needed this release, needed some way of clearing away the sense of trepidation that had been building for days, a deep settled fear that his personal demons were trying to break free.

They were echoes of his past, personal traumas which he'd locked away deep in his soul. And though imprisoned, these scars inked their bitter presence upon the grown man via acerbity, distrust and a need for personal isolation.

It was his recent work with Harry that was causing the problem; this business of emotional honesty and the growing realization of their common turbulent childhoods was giving fodder to the rising dome of old-time foes.

He didn't want to face them, he couldn't. His age-old tactic of avoidance by doling out acrimony and insults upon those he encountered wasn't working, neither was brewing potions late into the night until he was ready to drop. He had nowhere else to go, and no one else to whom he could turn.

"Oh baby, you've been gone way too long. Why have you stayed away? I'm always here for you ... you know that."

Spent, Severus took a moment to catch his breath. "Don't call me ... baby." He slid off the bed.

"You're not leaving ... are you? Come on, you can have me the entire night."

Severus made his way the bathroom to splash some cool water on his face. He always wore a glamour when conducting such affairs and never divulged his name. "I cannot stay."

"In that case, as much as I love this scenario, I don't much care to stay bound if you're leaving."

Severus returned slowly back to the bed; taking his time, he fastened each and every button of his frock and robe — one by one and then finally raised his wand, "Finite."

Now free of the magical bonds, the hooker sat up and began rearranging the pillows. "You're a real charmer; you know that don't you?"

Severus moved toward the door and tossed the customary fee on the sideboard.

"Oh no baby, don't leave. We'll have a drink and then go at it again."

Annoyed at the endearment, Severus ground his teeth and grasped the door knob. He could easily justify staying here with this talented whore; the diversion would postpone his return to his empty quarters where reality would lay its trump card on the proverbial table. "I cannot stay," his voice was uncharacteristically shaky.

"When will I see you again?"

Without answering, Severus opened the door and quietly slipped out of the dingy room.

Leaning against the tiled wall of the shower, Harry melted under the spray of hot water, pummeling his aching shoulders and back. Methodically stroking himself, he took his time coming, hoping that the hot water and orgasm might help him unwind after another long day.

It was so late and he needed to get to bed for tomorrow's agenda would be just as full as this day's had been.

Reluctantly, he finished off and then quietly padded back to his dorm room. These late nights were occurring more and more frequently, the aftermath of evening trainings with either Channon or Snape. Upon his return to the tower, there would always be a pile of homework awaiting his attention. It wasn't unusual these days for Harry to fall into bed well after midnight.

All his dorm mates were sound asleep when he slipped into the room, and even though his body was tired from this evening's workout with Channon, his mind just wouldn't shut down.

He crawled onto the windowsill by his bed and leaned his forehead against the cool glass to stare out at the stars. He was frustrated with the inconsistencies of his spell work and Occlumency, not to mention the ongoing episodes of wild magic. Granted, the physical exercise was helping, but still out of nowhere, these enormous bursts of magic would surge from him.

Then his thoughts moved to Anthony. He couldn't stop thinking about him, about every ipart/i of him.

How did this happen?, Harry pondered for the umpteenth time, as to just when it was that he'd started preferring boys over girls. If he really thought about it, he supposed the first people he'd ever noticed were Cedric and Cho. She was pretty, but Cedric was so awesome: tall, good looking, confident. Harry could still remember the first time he had met Cedric, when they were all going to the Quidditch finals. That in turn caused Harry think about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, then the graveyard, Fifth year, Sirius.

Stop it! Stop it, stop it! he thought to himself. That's in the past, you can't change any of it.

Harry sighed, closed his eyes and tried to think about the present and about how everything was so different now: the change with Dumbledore and Snape, the new people in his life, Helena and Anthony. A little smile crept across his mouth and he touched his lips, thinking about their last time together.

It had happened only a couple of days ago when he and Anthony were on one of their walks. They'd been doing a lot of that the past couple of weeks: walking, talking and touching. Anthony wanted to know everything about Harry and Harry wanted to know everything about Anthony.

Then on Wednesday, just after Herbology, they'd decided to take a walk before heading up to the castle. When they passed the greenhouses, Anthony suddenly took Harry by the arm.

"Come here a minute."

No one was around as they slipped inside the potting shed.

Anthony gently pinned Harry against the wall; they pressed against each other and could feel each other's hard young torsos.

"Harry, I... could I..."

Harry solved Anthony's dilemma by stretching up, leaning in close and nodding his head ever so slightly.

With infinite care Anthony embraced and held Harry's lips with his own. The kiss was gentle and sweet. He didn't want to rush Harry, knowing that this was his first time with a boy. Then letting go, Anthony looked down just in time to see Harry's long lashes sweep upward.

They stood there looking into each other's eyes, holding each other, feeling each other's hardness. They started to kiss again, but this time the kiss deepened as Anthony pulled Harry up to him. Their strong arms wrapped around each other, holding their bodies close. This closeness quickly led to an urgency, a need to consume; but Anthony stopped the kiss and pulled back just enough so that only their lips touched. Harry looked up, not knowing why the kiss had stopped.

"Are you all right?" Anthony asked. He wanted to make sure that Harry was okay with all of this, and the desperate look in those emerald eyes told him that he was.

Closing his own, Anthony began to kiss Harry again — slowly. He took his time, gently kissing his way all around those pink lips; every so often he'd slip his tongue inside for a tantalizing brush.

Harry, having never French kissed before, had always been a little nervous about the whole idea, but what Anthony was doing with his tongue was soon driving Harry crazy. He found he wanted that tongue to stay longer. So the next time Anthony entered with his tongue, Harry welcomed it with his own— so Anthony stayed.

They began exploring each other's mouths and felt each other grow more hard. Amidst all this passion, Anthony managed to also tease and play with Harry, using the tip of his tongue to tickle here and caress there. The way Anthony varied the intensity of what they were doing: sometimes amazingly passionate and then lightening everything to be gentle and playful — it all made Harry feel relaxed and safe.

Anthony revved things up again and this time he didn't stop; they held each other as both climaxed quickly and when it ended, they leaned against the wall — absolutely spent.

"You okay there, Harry?"

"Yeah." He looked down. "Bit of a mess."

Anthony looked down and giggled. "Here, I'll take care of it." He quickly removed the evidence with a simple charm.

Harry was trying to think of some way to tell Anthony what he was feeling: how incredible that had been, how safe Anthony had made him feel, how he didn't know coming could feel like that — when, from out of nowhere, the sound of Professor Sprout's voice cut the air.

"I have them right here for you Severus." She was clunking along the wooden floor of the forth greenhouse.

"Cut them myself for you just this morning."

The sound of her heavy steps was now followed by ones that were softer and evenly timed.

"Let's see now, where did I put them?"

The two petrified teens heard more clunking steps, a pause and then some more.

"Oh, now I remember ... I put them in the potting shed for safe-keeping."

Stunned, Anthony and Harry's dreamy state disappeared and became one of sheer panic. They looked at each other and simultaneously, silently mouthed the words — Oh fuck!

Harry grabbed Anthony's hand and dragged him post haste to behind the shed door and stood flat against the wall.

The matronly witch gave the door a shove as she entered the shed. Anthony grabbed the handle when the door bounced against them and then held it in place.

"Oh yes, here they are. A particularly fine crop we had this year."

Then they heard the sound of Snape stepping up to the doorway.

By now, Harry had shifted into whatever it could be called, his own version of Occlumency. Taking steady breaths, he closed his eyes and gently formed his shield. Snape was so accustomed to entering Harry's mind now; he feared that just being in the vicinity of the professor would be enough to alert him of his presence.

"See Severus, they're absolutely magnificent."

"We are discussing Abyssinian Shrivelfigs, are we not Pamona?"

"Yes, but Severus — just look at them."

"Ah yes," he placated the old witch, "truly stupendous."

Their hearts pounding full boar, the two teens listened as professors Sprout and Snape walked back into the greenhouse. Not daring to move a muscle, they waited and listened as the voices and footsteps move off and all became silent.

Slowly, Anthony and Harry crept out from their hiding place and cautiously peered around the corner. The greenhouse was indeed empty; the door leading outside was closed and they were once again alone.

They fell against each other and then broke out in laughter.

"Oh my God," Anthony had started using some of Harry's Muggle phrases, "I can't believe that happened."

"I can't believe we didn't get caught," added Harry. "My shield thing must really be getting better. I thought for sure we were goners."

"What do you mean — goners? What does that mean? Really Harry, you're dead cute, but you do speak a different language."

"Come on, we better get back. I'll explain it on the way."

Harry smiled and sighed. Feeling infinitely content, he knew he'd be able to sleep now. He was just about to slide off the sill and go to bed when a movement outside caught his eye.

Someone had just passed though the front gates and was now walking across the wide expanse of lawn leading up to the castle.

It's Snape, Harry realized. What's he doing out there so late. I wonder if he was summoned. But my scar didn't hurt tonight ...

Harry thought as fast as his tired mind would permit, Could Voldemort be back?

He had half a notion of running down to ask his professor what was going on, but then thought the wiser. He watched as Snape ascended the steps and then disappeared through the front doors.

Sliding off the sill, Harry tip-toed over to his bed, crawled under the covers and let his head sink onto the pillow. With thoughts of kissing Anthony and wondering where Snape had been, Harry closed his eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

The commotion of the breakfast hour echoed throughout the Great Hall with sounds of cutlery against plates, students and teachers chatting and the scraping of benches against stone.

Harry sat munching a piece of buttered toast while reading his textbook: Negative Magic for Positive Means. Ensconced in his book, he'd managed to drown out the din around him, until the misplaced sound of subtle voices caught his attention.

Sliding his gaze up from the text, he saw Hermione intently surveying a tear in the sleeve of Ron's robe, but it was the iway/i she was doing it that held his attention, for she had one hand resting on Ron's forearm, while she inspected meticulously the loose threads of the hole with the other, allowing her fingers to occasionally slip below the level of the fabric.

As Harry watched the pair inspect the intricacies of this hole in Ron's sleeve, he started thinking about Anthony and all the touching they'd been doing lately. He drew a sudden deep breath and looked about the room, trying to chase away the heady thoughts.

Just then, the post owls flew into the hall.

Thank Merlin,thought Harry as he sighed and poured himself a rare cup of coffee.

Only moments later, sounds of shock and concern began to fill the hall. Hermione had only just begun to scan the first page of the Prophet when she gasped, "Oh no!"

"What?" asked Ron and Harry simultaneously.

"An orphanage in London collapsed. Everyone in the building ..." She laid the newspaper down and stared straight ahead.

"Hermione! Tell us what's happened!"

She looked at them with an expression of shock and sadness. "Everyone in the building ... they all died."

"Let me see that." Ron grabbed the paper and began to read aloud; everyone in the vicinity listened as he read the horrible news.

Harry snapped his attention to the Head Table to see who was present and who was not. Dumbledore, Channon and Snape were all missing. The memory of Snape returning to the castle late last night suddenly flashed through his mind.

I wonder if Voldemort had something to do with that orphanage collapsing?

With all this commotion, Harry hadn't noticed the rather small Tawny that had swooped down in front of him.

When he turned back, he saw a letter sitting atop his toast and actually startled when he read the name of the sender.

Everyone around him was still focused on Ron as he read the article, so Harry was able to discreetly slide the post into his book bag unobserved.

He sat back up and urgently scanned the Ravenclaw table for Anthony. There he was, doing the same thing as Ron. His housemates were crowded around him, listening as he read the distressing article.

Then it started — that sort of panicky feeling. He'd come to learn that this always preceded one of his bursts of magic; just to know it was about to happen, when he was around so many people, was enough to make him panic even further. He had to leave the hall and he had to leave it i now, /i before his wild magic got away from him.

"I'll catch up with you later," he quickly said to Hermione. She acknowledged his words with a quick nod and then returned her focus to the article about the orphanage.

Snatching up his bag, he quickly exited the Great Hall but paused just outside the doors.

Outside? Inside?

Deciding there would be less of a chance to encounter or affect anyone outside, he exited the castle and quickly crossed the courtyard.

Ducking behind a massive Yew, Harry dropped his bag to the ground and then grabbed onto two of the thick branches. There was no way to stop the surge from happening, but he could at least try to lessen its intensity. He began drawing deep, steady breaths and mentally visualized grounding himself to the earth.

An intense prickling sensation swept through his entire body. The surge lasted only seconds and when it subsided, Harry was left completely winded. He leaned against the thick conifer and tried to catch his breath. Looking around, he realized that the huge plant was covered with light green, new growth and that the grass all around him was inches taller.

The chimes sounded, indicating the start of classes. Even though he was still shaky and winded, he had no choice. Reaching down for his book bag, he slung it over his shoulder and headed wearily back into the castle.

Severus turned his head so that his hair fell forward, curtaining his demanding yawn.

The predawn summons from Albus had been particularly jarring; coming on the heels of his late night tryst, Severus had only managed to get a couple hours of sleep. Now well past sunrise, he and select members of the Order were still in the Headmaster's office discussing the collapse of the orphanage in London.

The fact that this orphanage was the same one where Tom Riddle was born and spent his early childhood had warranted this emergency meeting of the Order.

With his position as liaison between the Ministry and the Muggle British authorities, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been one of the first wizards on the scene and had immediately requested Auror backup. Only having just arrived from the devastating scene, he immediately gave his report.

"You are quite certain?" asked Albus.

Kingsley's cello voice rumbled through the room. "Yes Dumbledore. We searched the entire area for evidence of Death Eater activity and found nothing."

The old wizard looked to Severus once again. "And you felt nothing?"

"Do you think I am withholding information?" he asked sharply.

"Of course not, Severus."

"I would have noticed if the mark had burned." Severus was definitely out of sorts this morning.

"Exactly, my old friend. That is why I am concerned..."

"So am I," interrupted the spy. "Either this disaster was a coincidence, or the Dark Lord has discovered my true allegiance."

"The Muggles believe the explosion and collapse of the building resulted from a build up of gas in the pipes. It was an old building..." Arthur continued to relay the mechanics of such a possibility when a slight tremor occurred. It lasted only seconds and went unnoticed by most of the wizards and witches in attendance, all except for Albus, Severus and Channon.

The three men immediately recognized the signature of this disturbance and exchanged concerned glances.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Arthur."

Surprised, the redhead stopped mid-sentence. "Yes, Albus?"

"Classes are about to begin." He turned to face Severus and Channon. "Gentlemen?"

Taking their cue, the two wizards left the office to go check on Harry.

"It didn't feel as if he was inside the castle," commented Channon.

They had reached the bottom of the spiral staircase just as the chime sounded for classes.

"We really do need to set up a means of keeping track of him; perhaps if Dumbledore assigned all the portraits to keep an eye out for him. Really Severus, how else can we know if he's been injured or some damage has occurred?"

"There is already a way of knowing." Severus stopped where he was and called out, "Dobby."

"What?"

"Not what, but who."

Just then, the small house-elf apparated before the two professors.

"Yes professor, Dobby is here." He was so short and they were so tall, he only managed to reach the height of their knees.

"Where is Mr. Potter?"

"Oh sir, Dobby is seeing Harry Potter out by the front courtyard, but when Dobby is coming to see you, Harry Potter is coming back inside."

"Was there any damage?"

Dobby quirked his face as he tried to decide if tall grass and an old shrub growing inches was considered damage.

"Was he injured?" asked Channon.

Again, Dobby quirked his face.

"Was Harry injured?" Severus repeated Channon's question with more urgency.

"Oh sir, Dobby is thinking that Harry Potter is very white."

Channon stared at Dobby, not sure what to make of him.

"That will be all," Severus dismissed the elf whom in turn disappeared immediately.

The sound of hundreds of students ascending the stairs drifted up to their location on the seventh floor.

"White?" Channon asked.

"I would assume he meant pale."

"I have sixth year Defense now. I'll go check on him." Channon made to hurry down the steps, but paused and turned back. "What's your gut feeling about last night?"

Severus glanced down at the sea of rising students; they were still at least two floors below. "You heard Shacklebolt. If it was the Dark Lord, he acted alone. I will only know for certain once I have been summoned."

Channon shook his head. "I don't know how you do it, Severus."

Severus didn't reply, but only nodded his head in acknowledgement. "We'd best be getting to our students."

Hermione walked toward the very back of the library. Looking around the last bookcase, she saw Anthony sitting at the usual table in the corner but was surprised to see that he was alone.

"He's not here?" she whispered.

Anthony shrugged his shoulders. "Nope."

She sat down next to him and spoke in a soft voice, so as not to be heard. "I thought he'd be here with you."

"He's been acting weird all day," Anthony replied, laying down his book. "Hermione, do you know if maybe he knew someone at that orphanage?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm certain he didn't."

Just then, he walked up from behind and touched them both on the shoulders.

"Harry! Where have you been?"

"Budge over."

Hermione moved over to make room and Harry sat down between them.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked while covertly taking hold of Anthony's hand under the table.

"Remember, he has that detention with Madame Hooch," she responded in a huff. "Merlin's sake, why can't he learn to control himself."

"Oh yeah," Harry did indeed remember the crude gesture Ron gave to one of Ravenclaw's Beaters during their last game.

"Anyway, what's going on?" she continued.

Harry reached into his bag, pulled out the letter and tossed it onto the table. Hermione grabbed for it and began to read as Harry leaned into Anthony and whispered in his ear, "It's a long story I haven't told you yet."

Anthony pressed his cheek gently against Harry's."Are you okay?"

He could feel Harry shake his head — no.

Hermione gasped. "Oh that ... how can he be so ... impersonal?"

"May I read it?" asked Anthony, his calm voice was a stark contrast to Hermione's hissing tone.

Anthony held Harry's hand tightly as he began to read.

Dear Harry,

My apologies for not having written sooner. I've been busy with duties for the Old Crowd. I can't say much about that, but I was curious how you were doing after the events of last June. I know all of that must have been hard on you, and I hope you have been able to put it behind you.

I'll be coming to Hogwarts soon and hope to meet with you so that we can talk.

My sincerest wishes for a successful school year,

Remus

Anthony turned to look at his friend. Harry was staring at the table; the expression on his face was as hard as that of the wood.

"Hermione, would you excuse us?"

"Sure." She leaned over and gave Harry a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you two later."

After she left, Anthony whispered in Harry's ear, "Can you tell me about this business with Remus?"

Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, but not here."

"No, not here. Come on, let's go for a walk. I want to hold you for a while, then you can tell me when you're ready."

Severus's quill flew down the right side of the parchment leaving a trail of red colored comments in its wake. Assigning a grade of 'T' at the top, he set the test aside and started on the next.

He was nearly at his wit's end. There were piles of tests and assignments to grade; he'd been preoccupied all day with the collapse of the orphanage, adding to that the ongoing self-reprimands for his escapade the previous night and to top it all off — he had another session with Harry in just a few minutes.

He was about to cast a Tempus when he heard a knock at his door.

"Come," he snapped.

Harry startled at the tone of Snape's voice. iOh, oh./i Opening the door, he hesitantly entered the office.

"Put your things down, Mr. Potter," Snape ordered without looking up from the test he was now correcting, "then take a stand in the middle of the room."

Harry was either Harry or Mr. Potter, according to what kind of mood Snape was in. Harry hadn't brought anything with him, so he just moved forward to the middle of the room and stood as quietly as possible. He'd wanted to ask Snape if he knew anything about the orphanage, but decided that wouldn't be wise — considering the mood he was in.

Scribbling the grade at the top of the test with a particular flourish, Snape set it aside and tossed his quill onto the desk. Taking a moment, he tried to settle himself. It wouldn't benefit either of them if he started venting his current frustrations on Harry.

He stood up, moved around to the front of his desk and then drew his wand. "Are you ready?"

I must be nuts, Harry thought, but here it goes."Sir?"

"What."

"Sir, do you know if Voldemort is back?"

"Don't say his name!"

"Sorry, sir."

"Why are you asking?"

"I just thought that since you came back so late last night, that maybe ..."

Severus almost had a coronary. "What I do and where I go are none of your concern, Potter."

Harry really knew he'd done it that time. He hadn't been just Potter all term.

"I don't have much time tonight. Have you been practicing your shield?"

Immediately, the incident in the potting shed flashed through his mind. "Uh, yes sir."

"Very well, let's proceed."

Severus raised his wand, but before he could say the incantation the Dark Mark erupted with a burning pain so severe that he pulled his arm in tight and doubled over.

"Sir!" Harry rushed to Snape's side, trying to help him stay upright.

"I don't need your help, Potter," he snapped.

"Sir, what's wrong? Shall I get Madame Pomfrey?"

Snape stood there agape, staring at Harry in amazement. "Get out of my way. I have to go."

"Sir?" Harry was at a loss as to understand what was happening. He'd never seen what Snape went through when he was summoned.

"I said, get out of my way. I cannot be late."

The reality of what was happening struck Harry like a sledge hammer. "Oh no, Sir, don't go. Please don't go. I've seen what happens when he calls you. Please don't go."

Severus couldn't understand Harry's concern. No one had ever worried about him or cared for his welfare. "I have to go; this is my job." He struggled to stand upright and then moved toward the door.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

Snape was exiting the room as he spoke. "Get my cloak; it's over there," he said nodding toward the closet. He was halfway down the corridor by the time Harry caught up to him.

Harry tried as best he could to get the cloak over Snape's shoulders, as he wouldn't stop walking.

"Now, go tell Dumbledore what has happened," Snape ordered as he struggled up the stairs. He couldn't believe how severely the mark was burning; it had never been this bad. Then he realized that Harry was actually holding onto him, helping him up the stairs. Well, he'd have to reprimand him for touching a professor later, when time permitted.

"Tell him, I'll report in as soon as I return."

When they reached the top of the stairs, they saw a couple of students filtering across the entry hall.

Snape looked down at Harry and shook his head no, so Harry let go and stepped away. Those green eyes looking back up at him were full of worry and concern.

"I'll be all right. Now go and tell the Headmaster what has happened." He nodded toward the Great Staircase.

But Harry held his ground and silently mouthed the words, Please don't go.

All this genuine concern that Harry was lavishing on him was not what Severus needed at this point in time. He was on his way to meet with the Dark Lord and he needed to stay focused and impassive. Closing himself off, he leveled a hard stare down at the worried teen and whispered, "Go, now."

With great reluctance Harry slowly crossed the entry hall and then ascended the staircase. About halfway up, he paused and turned around just in time to see Snape exit the castle.