"As flies to wanton boys, are we to th' Gods:
They kill us for their sport."
Shakespeare, King Lear, Act IV, Scene i

He silently left the room. After the door had closed behind him he stopped and took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a split second and felt how at least some colour returned to his face. Leaning against the stone wall he stared down his robes. His gaze followed traces of dust that made the black cloth look a bit old and worn. But this seeming distraction was only allowed temporarily. Some student addressed him in the staircase leading to his private quarters and confronted him with a pointless question about the Calming Concoction he had the sixth-years working on yesterday. With a harsh movement of his right hand he made the boy back off. He was determined to get to his room as fast as possible and allowed no disturbance. He couldn't have answered anyway for he suspected that his voice was nearly gone. Concentrating on walking, setting one foot in front of the other, was almost more than he could cope with for the moment.

He had told Dumbledore he was ready. He had claimed to be prepared. He simply had to be, had to fulfil the headmaster`s request; Dumbledore - he had been in this man's debt ever since his own schooldays and even more after...
He forced his right hand to touch his left wrist, made his fingers creep upwards and let his fingertips run along the burning lines of the Dark Mark. In a sudden grip his pale fingers fastened around his arm, strangling it, he felt the blood stop running, his left hand slowly go numb. He didn't care if it died and fell off, he rather desired it to part from his body. Anything, if it just freed him from this continuos pain he was feeling ever since Voldemort`s sign had been burnt into his skin. The pain had been increasing during the last couple of months and became almost unbearable last night after Harry and Cedric were carried away by the Triwizard Portkey.

Last night... the night Voldemort had returned, and with him the black despair and retching anxiety Snape had tried to fight for more than thirteen years. Some of it even longer. Had tried to fight it, to repress it, to block it from his thoughts - but never succeeded. How could he have? And then again - Voldemort had never really died, never been finally defeated, just "gone".
Severus had always wanted to keep people aware of that. He considered it absolutely necessary to keep them awake to the shadowing menace of Voldemort`s possible resurrection. That counted for the main reason why he was so eager to be assigned to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. Of course, his ambition longed for satisfaction as well... Slytherin after all. A bitter smile appeared on his face and he heard the sound of hollow laughter inside his head.

Only few had listened to him though. Dumbledore. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Strange enough, but these two men - these creatures - he had tried to avoid most of his life were designed to be among his closest allies in the forthcoming war - the headmaster's determined word, so unquestionable to him, had made him shake hands with Black just minutes ago -, and the real Alastor Moody. Severus still heard the old Auror cry out "Constant vigilance!", a phrase that had become a motto for him. He had undertaken the most difficult efforts to enter the conscience of his fellow teachers with his repeated warnings. It had cost him more than most of them could imagine. Torn between the duty he felt to prevent a "next time" and the desperate wish, need, to forget what had happened, to prevent himself from losing his mind.

Countless nights he had felt so exhausted he couldn't keep away from his potion cabinet and had ended up drowning his guilt and fear in large doses of alcohol or Forgetfulness Fluid, but still he would lack sleep. He hated himself for being this weak and felt disgusted by the very look of himself. To remind him of his weakness and what he had done in the past he had placed a huge mirror on the door which led from his private quarters. It forced him to face his miserable, sallow, black and tired self each time he left his room.

By the time he reached the dungeons Severus felt cold sweat running down his back and wetting the hair at his temples. At least it cooled the raging ache in his head a little. Surely he would never object to anything Dumbledore asked of him, he would not even *think* about objecting. He would die for the headmaster if necessary... He had never come to understand the old wizard's generosity and knew he never would. He knew he didn't deserve it.

He was willing to die for Dumbledore, but what if that was not what Voldemort had planned for him...? The Dark Lord had never allowed anybody the easy way, of course he would not have changed. Of course he would be worse now, enraged and demanding. What if he demanded more than Severus was able to give? The mere thought of the possibilities that might await Severus made the sound of "Avada Kedavra" almost sweet and calming, a desirable and welcome fate...

"Professor Snape! Wait, Professor..."

Words came slowly seeping through his foggy thoughts. Somebody calling his name. Somebody claiming his attention. Returning from where he had drifted to he harshly snapped: "What...?!"

Bill Weasley came running after him. The oldest of the Weasley boys. He had been teaching him Potions while Bill was at Hogwarts. Gifted. Strong. Beautiful. Opposing. Intelligent. Curse-Breaker for Gringotts, if he remembered correctly. It fitted. Bill Weasley had always been eager to face danger. Seeking challenges he had always volunteered to sample the potions the class had brewed. Sometimes the silly kid even did it in secret. Incredibly quickly he had learned about antidotes, Severus recalled. More than once he had to send Bill up to the hospital wing, more than once he had to interfere himself, applying an antidote or administering a counter curse to save the boy's life. He had seen to taking points from Gryffindor on such occasions, but secretly he had admired the ambitious and courageous young man.

"Professor Snape, I will be leaving Hogwarts before long. Dumbledore sent me to contact my father at the Ministry and afterwards I think I should be heading for Romania to check on Charlie, maybe alert some of my friends who can help us in the time to come... I guess I'm quite well equipped (Bill held out a tightly stuffed rucksack) but I would need some of your potions as well. A Truth Potion, something to keep me awake, some healing stuff and maybe a bottle of that Thoughtblocking Solution, hopefully I won't need *that*, but you can never know...", Bill said, breathless and slightly shaking. His words wore the mask of the courageous Gryffindor but the pressure of recent events as well as hence resulting panic were clearly written all over his voice, face and body.

"Certainly, Weasley, but don't expect me to supply you with Veritaserum. I know you would love to have your go with it, but that potion will have to be kept under safe custody by Dumbledore from now on. But don't go messing around with the other stuff either. It's strong."

Severus turned around and hurried towards his private office where he stored most of his potions. Bill had a hard time keeping pace with him. A hissed password made the door swing open. This was the first time Bill entered Snape's private quarters and would have taken a close look at everything under different circumstances. Snape did not look back once to make sure Bill had actually followed him but went straight for his Potions Cabinet. He scanned the cupboards' contents thoroughly, touching some of the bottles, yet hesitating again. Finally he chose four slender phials, labelled them - he himself needed no labels for he knew every single ingredient of each jar, bottle, phial by sight, smell or taste - and handed them over to Bill, who had been watching his former Potions Master carefully and with only half-hidden awe.

"Here. Take them and go. Try and do not get yourself into unnecessary trouble, your skills will be needed in the war. And now, leave, *please*." Severus wanted to be alone again, to focus on what lay before him.

"Professor, I just want to tell you how much we all appreciate what you..."

"Shut up, Weasley, you don't know what you're talking about!" Snape snarled. „You've been given what you asked for. You're dismissed. Leave."

"We are all in your debt already, Professor. And we will be even more. The minute you..."

"I told you to shut up and leave, Weasley! Are you deaf or has that little brain of yours been damaged by some Confusing Curse?"

Can't Run But (Sal Si Puedes I 1/3)

~ Bill ~

He is an intriguing man. How skilfully he deals with his potions. I have always loved to watch him work. Even during the lessons that turned into a complete disaster because some poor child blew up his cauldron or added spider legs to early or messed up the cutting of horned slugs or whatever. When Charlie told me about Snape's flaming speech on the Art of Potion Brewing I remembered my first encounter with Hogwarts' Potions Master and shivered. Same with Percy's report and Fred's and George's and Ron's and Ginny's. Never have I been more impressed with a teacher.

His voice is chilly, though. He orders me to leave. But I want to thank him for everything he has done and is about to do for all of us. And for me. He refuses and withdraws. But isn't it impossible for one to withdraw who hasn't even been near for a second? He tells me to leave again. I won't go, I disobey. I don't even know why.

He yells at me. "Get out now! Get out or I'll make you! Leave! You'll regret it if you don't! Weasley, you hear me?! LEAVE! NOW!"

I just stand and stare at him. The veins at his temple and at his throat throb. He sweats. His eyes are as black as ever and of the same fathomless depth.
He pulls his wand from his robes and threatens me. I don't react and continue to stare at him. The air in this room is cold, that's all I feel. I don't want to face this battle, this war to come. We will never be able to defeat Him Who Must Not Be Named.

Suddenly he is in front of me, screaming in my face. I can feel his fury and hear his voice but do not understand his words. I think he orders me to leave and to never come back. Suddenly I can also feel the heat that flashes from his shaking body. I stand still and do not move.

Why can't I leave him alone? He is about to lose the rest of his composure for which he is fighting so desperately. I can feel that. Why can't I just pay him this little respect? I don't know why. All I'm able to do is stand and stare.

The blood rushes through my body, I hear it roaring in my ears, I don't hear his voice anymore. Maybe he has stopped screaming. He takes a step towards me, another one and another one. Finally I move. I take one step backwards and with every step he approaches me I back away from him, step by step. I stop breathing as the cold stone wall hits my back. There is no way out, not anymore.

*****

~ Snape ~

Why can't he just leave me alone? My head aches and my eyes water. I wish he'd leave. I yell at him, scream at him, raise my wand and threaten to curses to make him. Well, isn't that a clever thing to threaten a curse-breaker with?! Snape, you silly fool! No wonder he doesn't move an inch.

I feel close to collapsing. My eyes burn and my voice is hoarse. I fear it might break so I finally stop shouting. Why does he just stand there and why won't he blink? This fucking bastard will not break my fences, never, never, NEVER!
I step towards him, still he does not move. I take another step - it's a statue I'm facing. MOVE, you piece of shit! MOVE FOR GOD'S SAKE! MOVE!!! Another one.

It feels like infinity until he stirs. One hesitant step away from me means more space for me to breath. Why do I close it again? He takes another step backwards and I follow him for a reason unknown to me. His eyes show his bewilderment or maybe they just mirror mine. I've lost control over my body and it's movements. I seem to be a piece of iron drawn to a magnet… O, Gods, let me stop. Merlin, help me.

He slams into the wall and is trapped. There is just one more step for me to take.

Whose Pleasure (Sal Si Puedes I 3/3) The light smell of musk and sweat crept up his nose. Bill distinctly sensed the agonizing fear and the energy bridled carefully behind the mask the man closing in on him always wore and which he was still wearing. Snape's face was only inches away from his own, their robes were brushing against each other. One pale hand rested pressed against the wall to the right of his neck, one to the left. Heat, radiating from only partly covered forearms, closed around his throat like a noose. A piercing stare from those black eyes now burning made Bill exhale sharply. He knew what was going to happen between them now would be plain and pure sex. A flight, a desperate try to forget everything else for a measured period time, to drown doom of thought, to remain sane. Just sex and nothing but. It was exactly what he wanted it to be.

With one hand Snape reached around Bill's waist and so closed the space still left between their bodies. The other hand reached for the young man's red hair, wound up in it and forced Bill's lips to meet with his own. It was a fierce and hungry kiss, bruising, demanding, almost violating, accompanied by a hoarse cry of impatience. Snape's hands tried to grab hold of the other body everywhere at once while his tongue slid between Bill's lips and thrashed into his mouth. He could feel how the younger wizard's body reacted to this attack: Absolutely petrified only a moment ago it was revived by violent shivers running through its nerves. He could feel Bill's immediate reaction to his crushing embrace between them, Bill was rock hard. So was Snape and he was sure that hadn't escaped Bill either.

"We should take certain precautions", he hissed, took out his wand, made the door lock and sealed it with a soundproof spell. Carelessly Snape tossed his wand aside and claimed Bill's mouth again before his prey had a chance to recover from the shock.

"If you want me to stop, tell me now. This might be your last chance to do so."

Bill moaned as he heard the husky voice of his former Potions Master. It was full of suppressed passion and gagged lust and it presented a terrifying threat at the same time.

"Don't you dare stop, don't you dare!" Bill felt intoxicated with the closeness of what he used to dream and fantasise about years ago. He swallowed and muttered, his voice trembling: "I can't believe I shall finally have the possibility to undress you, to be granted the pleasure to see you naked, to touch you, to feel your hands and…"

And once more his breath and word was cut by Snape's kiss. Snape's tongue ruthlessly invaded Bill's mouth, dashing around, brushing against his teeth, pushing Bill's own tongue back and coaxing it to thrust forward the next second. His hands first cupped Bill's head to hold it in place before they started to unfasten Bill's robes, impatiently tugging and tearing at the impeding cloth. Panting, Bill started to work on Snape's robes as well while they moved towards the desk. With one careless swish of his arm Snape cleared it. Parchment, quills, books and bottles alike were brushed to the floor and crashed onto the stones.

Freeing both of the last layers of garments, Snape pushed Bill against the desk and made him lie down on it. He parted his legs and moved between them. His erection was well matched by Bill's, whose body was spread out willingly in front of him. Hands resting on Bill's upper legs he feasted on the sight of that perfectly shaped figure for a little while, breathing deeply.

The other body started to writhe beneath his hands, unable to endure any more of the built up tension. "Oh, come on, *touch* me!" Bill moaned and reached up to pull Snape down. But there were other things in store for him. Snape grabbed Bill's wrists and pressed them against the desk, pinning them down forcefully. He lowered his head to engage Bill's screaming mouth into another demanding kiss. Then he let his lips wander over the face towards the exposed neck. Bill jerked up as he bit the soft skin. Snape deliberately used his lips, tongue and teeth on Bill's neck and throat and shoulders and upper body and armpits and arms and nipples, finally. Erect nipples indeed, hardening even more as he squeezed them between his teeth. Bill cried out, completely drowned in ecstasy.

"Aaahhh… yes… that's sooo good… uuuhh… yes… yes… oh, yes… oh, come on, oh, please…", his voice coarse with passion and need. "Oh, please, more! MORE! I can't wait, please… aaaahhhh…"

"Sure you'll have to wait, greedy. Exactly as long as I please." Vibrating tension was clearly audible through the Potions Master's low, silky voice. He stroked Bill's throbbing cock ever so slightly and wetted his index finger with the already dripping precum. Like in slow motion he raised his hand and licked it clean of the salty liquid. He locked his eyes with Bill's, which were hazy with desire by now and inserted this finger slowly into Bill's tight opening. Bill forced his hands, which Snape had held in place over Bill's head, free and finally pulled Snape into the next lingering kiss, sucking Snape's lips as hard as he could. It lasted only for seconds for Snape withdrew and traced Bill'S collarbones with his tongue before he whispered teasingly, making sure his hot breath touched Bill's ear and exposed neck:

"Tell me what you want. Describe it to me. Make me *want* to do it…"

"I... I want you to… aaaahhh… want you to fuck me, want your cock inside me, want to feel you move… Oh, please… Oh, please come on… aaaahhhh", and, as Snape still wouldn't do anything, "I want it fast and hard, oh… yes, I want you to move inside me NOW, want it hard, NOW, want you to come hard, want it now, oh, please, I can't wait anymore…"

"Tell me how close you are…"

"Oh… oh, Gods, close, so close, can't wait… I'm so close it… hurts! Please, I can't wait any longer, I need to come, please, I *need* to… please, let me come, oh yes… aaaahhh, yes, oh, please, please, PLEASE!!!"

Snape seemed to need no further invitation. He entered Bill with one fast movement. Bill screamed and arched upwards, trying to draw Snape even deeper into him.
A little delay, then Snape started to move, slowly at first, pulling out, almost completely. Then he thrust in again, and out, and in… Bill did his best to match his tormenting movements but Snape changed the rhythm every now and then, keeping the man underneath him tensed and after a while he had him wrapped in frustration and he kept him like that for quite some time. His pace finally increased as did his breath. He slammed into Bill's body violently, obviously needing release as badly as Bill wouldn't cease to claim to.

When Bill reached orgasm he fiercely grabbed Snape's upper arms, his piercing fingers leaving black marks on the other's skin. Snape gasped. He felt Bill's semen gush between their bellies, hot and sticky, and could almost smell the slightly salty odour. Few more thrusts and he came as well, climaxed hard and violently. He bit his lips until he tasted blood.

He collapsed onto the other body and allowed himself to rest for some moments, to catch breath. Then he got up and went for the bathroom, cleaned himself, washed his flushed face with cold water, cold like liquid ice, and returned to his office.

Bill was already getting dressed, presumably he had relied on magic to remove the evidence their encounter had left upon and inside his body. Careful hands stored the four glass phials away in the rucksack. He fastened his cloak and let one hand run through his hair, checking his looks in the huge mirror on Snape's door.

"You look absolutely ravishing, Weasley." A cool voice in his back made him turn around. Snape leisurely leaned against the doorframe. He had crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched Bill through strands of wet black hair.

"Oh, Professor Snape, you sexy bitch…", Bill replied, grinning mischievously.

"Any time, Bill…", he muttered under his breath. And then, determined: "I think it's understood that nothing of what just happened in here will leave this room."

"Sure. But for once let me thank you for everything and for… things that will never leave this room, Professor."

"My pleasure. And you may call me Severus."