The next morning at breakfast Harry still felt like he was waiting for something – but now, whatever it was, it was closer. He had to stop himself from fidgeting several times and almost made himself sick by eating too fast.
McGonagall passed out the schedules and Harry took his with no little enthusiasm. This was the first year they got to drop some classes and he'd not hesitated to free himself of Binn's and Trelawney's torture sessions. He'd agonized over Care of Magical Creatures and while Ron and Hermione had chosen to drop it, in the end Harry had decided to stay. Hagrid was his friend, and besides, it wasn't like the homework was hard or anything.
"Professor McGonagall?" Harry called, confused.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"I though Snape required an O to get into NEWT level Potions Ma'am."
"That is Professor Snape, Mr. Potter, and he does."
"Then how did I get in?" He'd only gotten an E on his OWLs.
"Let's just say that Mr. Malfoy's Transfiguration skills are even worse than your Potion making. However I do expect you to apply yourself this year Mr. Potter," she admonished firmly.
He gave a half smile, "Yes Ma'am."
Harry thought he should probably be annoyed about being summarily placed in a class he didn't really want to take but he couldn't bother about it now. Now he was waiting.
Grabbing a piece of toast he headed off to Herbology with the Slytherins. He managed to work up enough annoyance to groan at this schedule when halfway to the greenhouses he realized that three days a week every class he had was with the Slytherins. Then on Tuesdays and Thursdays, his last class was double potions.
The brunette rubbed his forehead and tried not to think about it.
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Spike watched the sixth year Gryffs and Slyths slowly filter into his classroom – the last period of the day. His nephew sneered at him as he sat and the vampire just smirked right back.
Being an advanced Defense class he had decided they would talk about a subject near and dear to his own heart – Vampires.
He had just stood to address the now seated class when a dark headed boy jogged into the room.
"Sorry I'm late Sir, Professor Flitwick kept me after class. I have a note."
Spike stared at the boy mutely, unable to respond as he fought to keep his demon from surfacing. This was the source of that tantalizing aroma – the smell that had left him hard and aching all night. For the first time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts he was grateful for the robes he's been 'encouraged' to wear.
"Sir?"
The vampire took a deep unnecessary breath and let it out, which of course was a mistake as it flooded his senses with the boy. Finally his demon subsided a bit – but only after the thought had popped into his head that if he were discovered here and now he would never get the chance to make the boy his.
Taking the note from the now annoyed teen he said, "Right. Have a seat, Mr.?"
"Potter, Sir."
The blonde nodded and started his lecture.
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Two hours later the bemused teenagers were filing slowly out of the room. Never before had any of them experienced anything like William Aurelius – candid, irreverent...and devastatingly honest. Harry was a bit floored. Every question the students had asked had been answered, some in rather excruciating detail. The man hadn't sugarcoated, dodged or hedged anything from what the Gryffindor could tell.
It was intoxicatingly refreshing.
He was almost to the door when a voice behind him called, "Hang on a minute, Mr. Potter."
Turning, the Gryffindor found himself alone in the classroom with the taller blonde closing in on him. His breath caught, the waiting feeling was gone, leaving behind an electrical tingle rippling up and down his spine.
The Professor stopped mere inches away, forcing Harry to crane his neck to see the man's face.
"Yes P..Professor?" he stuttered.
William reached over Harry's shoulder and shut the classroom door with his right hand. Leaving the hand on the door he leaned into the brunette until the Gryffindor found himself backed up against the wooden portal.
Harry was still, in fact he was sure he wouldn't have been able to make himself move if Voldemort himself appeared in the room.
"I just wanted to tell you," William said as he lowered his head to the side of Harry's neck, "just how wonderful you smell, pet."
The teen held his breathe and instinctively tilted his head, giving his teacher better access. This was it, this was what he had been waiting for; for this person and whatever he was about to do to him.
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Spike didn't fight the demon when it rose to the surface; there was no stopping it this time. While the boy's scent had been a teasing temptation before, now it was a harsh mistress, whipping him into action, demanding that he claim the boy for his own.
He inhaled again, basking in the sensations zinging through his body. Slowly, delicately, he licked the slender column of flesh stretched so temptingly before him.
Harry moaned and Spike couldn't stop his own growl.
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Harry found himself pinned completely against the door with Williams hips wedged between his legs. Writhing, the boy wrapped his arms and legs around the other man, willing him to do...something.
He heard cloth tearing as a sharp pleasure-pain pierced his neck.
Spike shredded the boy's pants and shorts with his claws while he fed. The boy's scent had been intoxicating, but his blood – his blood was pure heaven. And the boy himself...God...he was so responsive, moaning and writhing...Bloody Hell!
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Two hours later Harry stumbled through the Gryffindor common room and up to his dorm. Luckily everyone was still at dinner so there were no questions about why their housemate was wandering around half-naked with the look of a man well shagged.
Falling into his bed with an 'oomph', the brunette closed the curtains and cast a few privacy charms – too blissfully exhausted to realize he did so without the wand still tucked into the pockets of his robes. Grinning softly Harry Potter fell asleep.