Chapter 1
On a couch in the Gryffindor common room of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter opened his eyes. He yawned, wiped his glasses, and wished he had actually gone to bed the previous night. Maybe a comfortable pillow would have spared him from those awful dreams. Harry paused for a moment, trying to remember, but the details escaped him. Malfoy was in the dream, he was sure of that. But the silver-haired boy hadn't been teasing or cursing him as usual. They had been… Ugh, they hadn't! Even the thought of kissing Malfoy made Harry sick to his stomach, so why had he dreamed about doing it with such passion? If someone had slipped him a love potion, they would have to pay.
But there was no time to think of revenge. Shaking his head to clear out the Wrackspurts, Harry began to gather his things and get ready for class. Maybe if he hurried he could catch the last five minutes of Potions and avoid a detention from Slughorn. He was still distracted and kept dropping his wand every time Draco's face appeared in his mind. This meant that the poor wand was flying at the ground every few seconds. By the fourth or fifth time, it began giving off angry red sparks. "Sorry, wand," muttered Harry, and started down the hall. A few steps later, he dropped the wand one last time, and stooped to pick it up. This time, it sent out gold sparks, and started spinning in a circle on Harry's hand. It was the compass spell, but he hadn't said a word to guide it. Harry forgot all thoughts of getting to class on time, and set off in the direction his wand pointed. Surely, it must be something important. Maybe it was Voldemort! Maybe someone was in trouble and needed him to save them!
But, of course, it was only Malfoy. The other boy walked forward in a daze, his eyes glazed and mouth slightly open. The resemblance to a zombie would have been perfect if he stretched out his arms. Harry stopped in his tracks, startled. Feelings welled up inside him, feelings that were most certainly not his own. He wanted to kiss those lips, run his fingers through that silky blond hair. But at the same time, another part of him wanted to throw up and run away, in no particular order. Harry stood still, shaking a bit with the effort of resisting the love potion's effects. Or maybe it wasn't a love potion. Maybe someone was trying to control him. He had always been good at fighting the Imperious Curse…
Just when Harry thought he would be forever paralyzed by indecision, Malfoy decided for him. He moaned low in his throat and took a step forward, falling into Harry's arms. Before Harry knew it, Malfoy's lips were pressing against his own. Malfoy's tongue was crawling up his neck in a really nasty way. Then Draco began to hump Harry's leg like a puppy, and Harry went somewhere inside his head.
He was not sure how long it lasted. It could have been a minute, and could have been a thousand years. Eventually, the first lesson ended and students flooded through the hall, forcing Harry and Draco to break apart. Harry looked himself over and realized that his cloak was torn and he was missing his shirt. Before anyone could see the pair or ask questions, Harry scurried away and hid in a broom closet while Draco ran the other way.
Harry was extremely embarrassed, and didn't know what to think of the incident. Luckily, he was good at memory charms. Harry quickly succeeded in putting the whole thing out of his mind.
A few minutes later, he climbed out of the broom closet, wrapping his cloak tightly around him to hide the lack of a shirt. He couldn't quite remember why he wasn't wearing it, or what he was doing in the closet in the first place. He checked the clock in the Great Hall and realized it was time for Charms class. Harry started toward the classroom with a smile on his face.
He was nearly there when he heard a batlike flapping behind him. Harry's heart sank as he slowly turned to face the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Snape. Snape was scowling as usual, and looked to be in an especially bad mood. "Potter, you have detention today," he said in a self-satisfied tone.
"Why, professor?" Harry asked innocently, thought he thought he knew the reason. Bits of his memory were beginning to break though, something about skipping a class…
"Slughorn told me you were not in Potions today," replied the ugly old git. "If I was still your potions professor, the punishment would be much… harsher. Yet as things are, you must report to my office. Immediately."
Snape strode off toward the dungeons, black cloak billowing. Harry followed, but he felt especially uneasy today. Snape was acting in the usual way, but there was something different about him. Despite what he said, the professor must have devised an especially bad punishment. Was Harry imagining the hint of a smirk on that ugly hook-nosed face?
The pair descended farther and farther into the dungeons. They passed Snape's office and came to a level that Harry didn't even know existed. Harry finally spoke up. "Uh, Professor…?"
"Quiet, you sexy man-child!", snapped Snape.
Harry was completely dumbfounded, and more than a little afraid. He started running back up the stairs, but only made it up three steps before clawed fingers grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back down. Harry's wand dropped to the stone floor with a clatter, and he was helpless against Snape. The man loomed over him, looking more like a bat than ever. Suddenly, Harry's memory of the morning returned completely. Regaining his wits for a second, he croaked "Wow. Why does everyone want to be gay with me today?" And then Snape got ahold of him.
Again, Harry wasn't sure exactly what they did. It was like he wasn't himself anymore, but somehow… out of character. Gone was that noble Gryffindor spirit; gone was the Boy Who Lived. He was a soulless, crazy sex machine, controlled like a puppet by unseen hands.