From his cosy seat, Dudley eyed the craziness unfolding in front of him. It was Christmas Day, and presents were passed around and opened. Joyous shouts and loud laughter rang through his ears, and he ducked when a lumpy stocking flew over his head. He grew dizzy when the force of ten thousand or so redheads of varying shades started stampeding all over the room, but his eyes quickly zoned in on one boy.

Albus Severus Potter had picked up a plain-looking green package, tied with a white ribbon. That was one of the three packages in the room that wasn’t flashy or animated like the other packages, and Dudley held his breath as Albus slowly unravelled the ribbon, letting it fall into his lap.

Dudley knew what was behind the plain wrapping paper. It was a gift he had mulled over for several days before carefully making his selection — so unlike James’ or Lily’s gifts, both of which he was able to choose quickly. The two of them were easy to read and figure out, both of them outgoing and confident.

But not Albus, who was quieter than his siblings, more introspective with hidden depths in those familiar green eyes — a mystery, he was.

Dudley, as nonchalantly as possible, watched Albus rip apart the paper and watched the way Albus just stared at the gift. It was a box — a fountain pen kit. In it was a handsome fountain pen, in bold black, with gold and silver designs along its body. There were several different types of nibs and ink refills in the kit and a small notebook with a leather cover. Albus looked up at Dudley with unreadable eyes.

Swallowing hard and feeling dread growing inside of him, Dudley said, “Your dad told me you like to write stories. So, I, erm, thought you’d like to write with this.”

He became more uncomfortable by the silence, and before he could tell Albus that he could exchange the gift, Albus let out a beaming smile. As quick as a wink, Albus had crossed the room to give him a big hug, and Dudley found himself hugging back. It was then he heard a very soft, “Thank you, Uncle Dudley. This is the best gift ever!”

And all Dudley could say back was “Happy Christmas, Albus.”

“Bill? You’ve completely lost your knuts in that noggin of yours.”

“You know you like it, Charlie.”

“It’s too damn painful.”

“No, it isn’t. You just have to adjust your weight and lift yourself the right way! And don’t think about the pain. Think about the benefits.”

“What benefits? I’m sweating, and this position’s killing me!”

“Charlie, stop being a wanker! You’ll enjoy this. Besides, you hang around with those fire-breathing creatures all day! You sweat all the time there.”

“At least I don’t have to listen to your Percy-like lectures from them.”

“You did not just bring our brother into this situation.”

“Shaddup.”

“Whatever. Now move it.”

“I will if you quit shoving so hard, Bill!”

“Then do your part!”

“Fine . . . how’s that?”

“Lift up there and pull!”

“Ow! Fuck. Am getting scratched here. Be careful!”

“I’m trying to be careful here, all right?”

“Ahhh. There. That’s done.”

“See, I told you it wasn’t bad. This was a very healthy experiment. And stop glaring at me.”

“Bill? Do me a favour.”

“What?”

“Next time Aunt Muriel needs a bloody fucking piano moved, don’t volunteer us ever again!”

A year had passed since Harry confessed his love to Remus.

The lingering glances, the rising level of testosterone whenever Remus was around were enough clues to state the obvious.

Remus’ reaction was typical. He tried to tell Harry that this wasn’t what he wanted, that this was a leftover of teenager lust. Harry refused to listen. Remus then avoided him despite his own feelings.

But Harry wouldn’t take no for an answer. A few days after the fateful confession, he trapped Remus against the wall and captured his lips. Remus’ conscience told him that this was wrong. Soon though, he succumbed to the eager lips.

The first love making session was rough, two men both wanting it so much that they went at it with unabashed excitement. The contact between skins sent shivers down both of their spine. The wetness that trailed from their lips on each other gave them sensational feeling. It wasn’t until Remus entered Harry that they both felt utter completeness.

After the first time, the next ones were gentler; their love flowed between them with words that could not explain.

A year had passed and since then, Remus and Harry had both found love that they’d always wanted.

Harry opened his eyes from yet another vividly portrayed dream. With no lights in the room, he stared into the dark, empty space, barely making out the ceiling. Soon his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

He shuddered involuntarily and stifled a moan, his attention diverted to his mid-section. He had woken from another dream, a sexual dream, and it was painfully obvious by the bulge in his pyjama bottoms.

He had been plagued by the same dream ever since the day after Dumbledore’s funeral. The dream kept on haunting him, but the content of the dream disgusted him. A typical teen, he was used to these sexual dreams, but instead of Ginny, or hell, even Cho, the person in his dreams was not one whom Harry expected to invade his innermost desires.

Harry sighed and decided to get it over with. One hand reached and slipped past the waistband. He bit his lips to keep himself from moaning out loud as his hand touched the hot, throbbing cock. He slowly began to stroke himself, setting a rhythm.

Suddenly the person of his dreams appeared in front of him. The dark hair looked silky to the touch. The eyes stared back at him as if they were piercing through his soul. The hollowed cheeks, the pale skin which was void of clothes seemed to give off a luminescent glow. The lips mesmerised Harry the most by it being able to produce a multitude of expressions from smirking to smiling with a dangerous edge.

Harry was close as he neared climax. While trying to relieve himself, he couldn’t help but feel disgusted. He kept at it until a silent moan escaped him, feeling his body tense as the warm, sticky liquid gushed into his hands and his pyjamas. He lay back, his needs fulfilled. His gaze hardened as he stared at the handsome face in front of him.

Harry whispered hoarsely into the dark room. “Why? Of all people, why do you keep appearing in my visions?”

The next word was uttered with a mixture of confusion and hatred. “Tom.”

Instead of a reply, Tom’s handsome face kept on staring at Harry in a serene manner. His dark eyes held a cold, calculating look. This is the Tom before he became Voldemort. The young man as he was before turning into the evil Dark Lord everyone learned to associate him as.

The first night Harry saw Tom, he thought perhaps Voldemort had tapped through his mind by Legilimency. But strangely, his scar did not hurt. The appearances baffled Harry. Why someone like Tom is having such an effect on Harry’s mind and body? Harry felt repulsed, but his needs were stronger than the former. Harry succumbed to the invisible force of these dreams and visions. Night after night, Harry stared into the darkness, relieving himself, and all due to his handsome enemy. And before he drifted off to a dreamless sleep, he asked the same question all the time: what did this all mean?

Severus watched the ingredients dissolve into the potion; the concoction was on the verge of finishing when a door being slammed diverted his concentration.

Severus looked up to see a fuming Argus. “Filch, you are lucky that this potion doesn’t require one hundred percent of my concentration. Otherwise, you and I would be dead by now.”

“Shut it, Snape. Can I help the fact that these brats are just out there to make my already worthless life even more miserable?” Argus walked up to Severus and leaned over the cauldron and said, “What are you brewing?”

While stirring, Severus replied, “A simple healing potion. In fact, it’s done.” Severus turned off the heat and directed his attention to his lover.

“Filch, we both know that those brats are never going to learn from any discipline, and we know that we only enforce it because when applied in a proper way, discipline can be a pleasurable torture method.”

“Not the torture method I prefer.” Grumbling, Argus leaned closer and wrapped his arms around Severus’ waist. “I don’t know why I let them get to me.”

Planting a kiss on Argus’ head, Severus whispered in his ear, “Well if they get to you, I have the perfect stress relieving technique.”

“And what would that be?” Argus teased.

“‘Snogging,’ as the brats say, you to the point that we both lack air, and ‘fucking’ you into senseless oblivion.”

A shiver ran down Argus’ spine. “Sounds deliciously acceptable.” Argus led them to Severus’ chambers. “Enough talking.”

“Yes,” said Severus, allowing himself to be directed. “Let’s begin.”

Harry plopped on the ground, and he ignored the biting coldness from the snow. He lay down on his back and started to move his arms and legs.

“Harry, do I want to know what you are doing?” Snape loomed over him with his arms folded across his chest.

With a merry laugh, Harry answered, “Making snow angels, love.”

“Why are you doing such thing?”

Standing up, Harry brushed himself of the few remaining flakes and looked into his lover’s eyes. “Really, Sev. You need to loosen up.” With that, Harry shoved Snape over, and he laughed as a disgruntled Severus glared at him.

“Come on. Try? Please? For me?”

Severus rolled his eyes and proceeded to make a snow angel. Afterward he asked, “Satisfied now?”

“Yes.” Harry lowered himself to the taller man, savouring his warmth. “You are my angel, and I feel like I am in heaven now.”

It was late, and the only thing that moved was the flickering ray of a candle.

Remus stared at the lights, trying to figure out what appealed to him. Slowly, the thoughts came.

The slow moving touches from soft hands were pleasuring him with sensation all over his body. Lips that almost never smiled were now melting against his skin. The harsh breathing sounded like soothing melodies to his ears. The husky voice gave him shivers down his spine.

All this time, he’d look at his lover’s eyes and see the same flare of light there as he’d seen from the candle.

That was gone now.

Shaking himself from his stupor, Remus put out the candle. Severus was gone from his life now. He went quickly like the lights did on each candle he would blow out.

Hermione looked up as Harry stormed into her Ministry office.

“What is it?” she asked.

He handed her The Daily Prophet and sat down in a huff.

“I am sick of that woman!”

She glanced at the front page and saw that Rita had written an article about Harry again. Of course, the article went on and on about Harry with bogus information.

“I thought that you keeping her trapped in her ladybug form would teach her a lesson. Obviously that didn’t work too–”

“Harry, hush,” Hermione interjected. She smiled mysteriously. “Let me handle it, okay?”

“Hermione . . . keep going,” Rita moaned, lying on the bed.

“I don’t think so.” Hermione looked up smugly. “I thought that the lesson years ago taught you better than that.”

In her current position, Rita struggled against the magical binds. “I did, but I was doing this for fun!”

“Oh, really?” Hermione lay next to her suffering lover and raised an eyebrow. “I do believe there is more to it.”

“Well, I . . . okay fine. I did that because that seems to be one of the few ways that I could get this side of you out in the open!”

Rita’s admonisher’s expression softened. “Oh, Rita. All you need to do is to say so, and you know I would have done it.”

“Now I know better. I’ll quit writing about the famous Harry Potter.”

Laying a gentle kiss on Rita’s lip, Hermione smiled beautifully. “And now the fun shall begin.”

“Puppy!” Ron called Draco over to where he was.

“Yes? And don’t call me ‘puppy’, Ron.” Draco came over and wrapped his arms around his lover.

“But you are my puppy. My lovable, squishable puppy! At least I am not calling you Ferret-Boy.”

Draco turned him around and glared at him. “The next time you call me that, I will severely punish you.”

“Okay, then.” Ron smiled mischievously. “Puppy.”

Draco growled and proceeded to drag Ron to the bedroom. “You asked for it, Weasel.”

Ron grinned goofily as he was being taken to their room. “I so enjoy it when you become this way, Draco. That’s why I love you.”

Draco stormed into the room and threw down his brief case. He fell onto the sofa.

“What’s the matter, love?” asked Remus, walking into the room. “Had a bad day?”

Draco moved himself into a sitting position and continued to stare icily in front of him. “I’ll say. Bad day? More like a nightmare. Sod those high authority officials. Their stupidity completely incenses me. What I’d like to know is how any of them ever succeed in business!?”

Remus hid a smile and walked up to the back of the sofa. Bending over, he whispered into Draco’s ears. “I know what would make you feel better?”

Draco shivered pleasantly, and his breath catching, he replied, “What would?”

Unexpectedly, Remus waved his wand and a vanilla crème pie came crashing into Draco’s face.

“Hey!” Draco got up and glared in the direction of his lover.

Remus looked at the pie covered man and laughed.

“Oh yeah . . . ?” Draco smirked evilly, flicked his wand, and another pie did the same to Remus. “Now we are even.”

Sounding amused, Remus asked, “Feel a bit better now?”

“Yes. Now I need a shower. Join me, please?”

Remus put his arm around Draco’s shoulder, and gently started to wipe his face. With some crème on his fingers, he licked it off. “Of course I will. That’s one of my favourite activities.”