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It is the hottest summer of the decade, and the atmosphere at 12 Grimmauld Place would be unbearably stuffy if it weren’t for the fact that this summer, Snape and Potter must cohabit and that every time they are in the same room, the temperature drops by quite a few degrees. Bill Weasley, the third unfortunate inmate in the Black House, gets on fairly well with either man, but he has long since learned to make himself scarce as soon as they come into each other’s presence.

The recent visit by Dumbledore hasn’t helped. The Occlumency lessons have started again — much to Snape and Potter’s disgust — and every evening they lock themselves into one of the big rooms upstairs for an hour or more.

The first time Snape casts Legilimens at Potter, he isn’t surprised to realise that the boy hasn’t made any progress since the year before. He is surprised, however, at what he sees in Potter’s head. Adolescent hormones, it seems, have kicked in and Snape almost smiles at the image of Potter and Bill Weasley, kissing. Obviously a fantasy, rather than a memory, because Snape knows that Bill isn’t that hesitant or inexperienced.

When Snape lets go of the innocent fantasy and dismisses the boy, he revels in the hate he sees in Potter’s eyes.

The next day, Snape goes directly for it. For the boy it is just as humiliating as the memory of being pursued by a yapping little dog, but for Snape, it is far more rewarding. It seems that the boy has actually upped the fantasy, perhaps in the mistaken impression that Snape would let go of it at once if it became too explicit. Snape smiles cruelly. The boy, of course, cannot be aware of his teacher’s voyeuristic streak, yet he probably should have known better. Gryffindor stupidity at work.

This time, Bill and Harry are still kissing leisurely, but both are naked, which allows Snape to confirm that this is no memory. The Bill in the fantasy lacks that little mole, just to the right at the base of his spine, which Snape knows Bill, in fact, possesses.

Snape dwells on the fantasy, making it play over and over again until the boy finally manages to evict him from his mind. His cold, “See you tomorrow, Potter,” is met by a snarl.

On the third day, Snape decides to try something he read about in books, but has never actually done. This time, when he enters Potter’s mind, looking for the fantasy, he does not content himself with simply forcing it to play endlessly. He modifies it, melting it with one of his own memories, until Bill is fucking Harry into the wall. He keeps it going until he can feel Harry coming. The sudden burst of light in Potter’s mind forces Snape to cut the connection.

He has time to see Potter’s dazed eyes before the boy flies away. Snape smiles; he hasn’t missed the wet stain on the front of Potter’s old, faded jeans.

Over the next few days, Snape manages to infuse several more of his memories with Potter’s fantasy. His Bill persona fucks Harry on a bed, on a desk, under a shower. Snape takes great care in keeping it all rather vanilla. Although he wouldn’t mind seeing Potter bound, whip marks decorating his lovely body, he is aware that anything more than rough fucking might scare the boy away.

They keep up the pretence of Occlumency lessons, but they are both aware it has moved beyond that, though neither could tell what exactly they hope to accomplish, beyond the obvious instant gratification. Neither wants to stop; Potter is too stubborn, and Snape is enjoying himself too much.

Their “relationship” has progressed nicely, even though Potter’s attempts at Occlumency haven’t, and Snape has recently introduced toys to spice up their encounters. Potter has reacted with enthusiasm to vibrators and butt plugs, and Snape is debating whether or not he should produce nipple clamps when he receives a surprise of his own.

Up until now, he has carefully kept Bill’s appearance in the fantasy because it is easier to play on Potter’s crush than on his hate of his Potions teacher. But tonight, when he enters Potter’s mind, he is greeted by a vision of himself. Himself, seated, in full teacher’s robes, collar buttoned up to the chin, and Harry, naked, kneeling between his spread legs, his head bobbing up and down in a way that leaves nothing to imagination.

Snape smiles, and after a few more seconds’ observation, cuts the Legilimency spell. He stares into Potter’s eyes, which are suddenly full of apprehension, then, very deliberately, unfastens the four buttons closing his trousers. Potter, delighted, almost throws himself on his knees, but Snape’s hand stops him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Potter’s eyes widen a second, then understanding dawns.

He strips.