The Tale of Two Enemies

Chapter 12

Snape sat at his desk.

It would soon be time for Mr Potter's detention as he eyed the door to the classroom carefully. A disturbing yet not unfamiliar feeling kept arising within him. He hated the fact that he found himself more excited for this particular detention than he had any other.

He had to discipline himself, he could not give in to those somewhat disturbing emotions he had felt in class earlier today.

Perhaps detention had been a terrible idea after all. Never mind the fact he only had himself to blame for it.

He shook his head before withdrawing the notebook from his desk drawer and dropping it onto the desk before him.

It was only then that he realised too many people recognised this book now, perhaps he ought to at least disguise the book somehow. He raised his wand before aiming it at the cover. He muttered a few words as he watched the cover transfigure, adopting a much more dated exterior.

He smirked as it now appeared to be a hundred years old.

A myriad of footsteps seemed to grow steadily louder, prompting the wizard to stuff the book back into this desk drawer.

He had no more slammed the drawer shut than Harry appeared in the doorway.

Damn.

He couldn't help but wonder if Harry had witnessed this action.

"Mr Potter." Snape announced as the boy entered and sat down at the seat furthest from him.

"Come here Potter. I do not wish to have to yell across the classroom." Snape drawled, yet there seemed to be a slight edge to his voice.

The boy looked as though he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes but complied with Snape's instruction despite himself.

"Tonight, you will be helping me reorganize the potions cupboard."

Harry gasped. He would be stuck in a confined space with Snape for the best part of this evening.

This was not good.

"Do you have any questions?" Snape spat, though the somewhat fierce expression on his face suggested he would not be impressed if he did.

Harry shook his head.

"Good. Follow me." Snape instructed before rising from behind his desk and turning on his heel.

It's not as though Harry didn't already know where the store cupboard was as he rose to his feet also.

He trailed behind Snape in silence.

God's.

It was even smaller than he remembered.

Harry winced as he stepped inside, instantly coming face to face with a jar of what appeared to be miniature pickled brains.

"I want you to start on the bottom shelf." Snape drawled as a slight smirk danced over his lips.

Harry didn't argue as he crouched down onto his knees. Now he felt as though he were taking up even more of the rather confined space than before. He went to sigh but caught himself just in time. The last thing he needed was for Snape to berate him about that too.

Though, he couldn't help but wonder what was in Snape's desk drawer. By the look on the man's face when he had entered the classroom this evening, it was something he hadn't wanted the boy to see.

"If any are expired, put them to the side. I have a potion that will use them up." Snape couldn't deny the delight in his eyes as he watched Harry visibly grimace.

"What kind of revolting potion would that be?"

"If you don't hurry up and complete this task then you will find out tomorrow night." Snape hissed, the threat was enough to prompt Harry into action.

A few minutes had gone by when he glanced up at the man, who was ordering the shelf at eye level with such precision. His deep dark eyes seem to behold vast tales of mystery and wonder.

Why hadn't he seen this before?

"What are you looking at Potter?" Snape spat, his eyes peering down at the younger wizard.

"N-nothing." Harry stated quickly before darting his eyes back to a bottle of goat intestines.

Yuck.

"Go and get me a cauldron from the classroom." Snape demanded out of what seemed like nowhere.

"What for?" Harry screwed up his face like a paper bag. Surely Snape wasn't intending to start brewing a potion in here?

"Don't ask questions." Snape hissed as he glared at the boy.

Harry didn't dare rise to his feet as he crawled out from the potion's cupboard on his hands and knees. Though, it may have been his imagination, but it seemed as though Snape was watching him do so very intently.

He strode back into the empty classroom as his eyes instantly located Snape's desk, or rather, the location of something he didn't want Harry to know about.

The young wizard's eyes darted around the room, as though searching for any sign of disturbance before deciding not to think about it, just do it.

He slid over to the man's desk drawer before yanking on the handle. Much to his surprise it opened, so much so it almost slid right out of its slot.

Harry could hardly believe it. He thought for sure Snape would have placed some kind of protective enchantments over his drawers.

Never mind that now, Harry shook his head in an attempt to focus.

He soon spotted what appeared to be an ancient book, but what could be interesting about that?

He shrugged to himself before pulling it out and prying open its pages anyway. His interest in it probably would have waned if he hadn't spotted something rather unusual within it.

His name.

Written over and over, but why?

Harry's eyes skimmed over the immaculate writing and intricately constructed sentences. He soon realised he was beholding a story about how he was drowning in the Great Lake and Snape had dived in to save him.

What on Earth was this?

Harry made no effort to disguise his confusion as he continued to read on. It didn't take long before he stumbled across something that shook him to the core. He gasped, inadvertently dropping the book as he read about Snape touching his cock.

Damn it.

Harry's eyes darted in the direction of the potion's cupboard, surely Snape would have heard that.

His heart pounded as he stuffed the book back into the drawer before grabbing his stuff and bolting from the classroom.

*~.~*

Damn it. What was wrong with him? Why was he feeling like this? He found his pace increasing into a light jog before suddenly transforming into a run. Where he was running to he didn't know as he weaved his way through empty corridor after empty corridor. He couldn't take it anymore as he suddenly sprinted down the corridor before tearing into the nearest bathroom. He could no longer ignore the breath heaving noisily in and out of his chest as he strode into a cubicle before slamming the door behind him.

He slumped against the wall, undoing his trousers with one hand while fishing for his member with the other.

He hated himself right now.

He gasped, clutching his cock as his trousers fell around his ankles. No amount of pressure seemed enough to satisfy his sudden hunger for pleasure.

What was wrong with him?

He couldn't answer, he didn't want to answer as his thoughts instinctively turned to Snape.

Had he written that story himself?

But why?