Author: John Sexton
Genre: Harry Potter Slash
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Chapter Twenty-Three -- Divide and Conquer

Hermione Granger was not really all that surprised by Professor Snape's organisation of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

Over the last week of the holidays, at Dragonera, she had discovered that Sals's father was a very different man from the Severus Snape that she had known at Hogwarts.

Not that she'd had that much interaction with him over that week; he'd pretty much kept to himself and most of her time had been spent with Sals and Draco.

When Professor Snape had told everyone in the DADA class to pair off, Hermione had immediately looked to Tracey Davis, a Half-blood witch, whom she had always thought was more Hufflepuff than Slytherin.

Tracy had smiled at her and nodded. As they'd moved towards each other, Hermione's preconceptions about the young witch had immediately been reinforced.

"Well, this is a first," Tracey said pleasantly.

"Yes," Hermione replied, almost coyly, "who'd have thought?"

They both laughed lightly, before Tracey added, "looks light the Sorting Hat might get its wish after all."

Hermione wondered if all of the pairings would work.

She looked over at Lavender Brown sitting down with Pansy Parkinson, and thanked Merlin that she wasn't forced into that pairing. She thought Parkinson was a horror, and doubted that the two would get along.

But then she glanced back behind her and smiled at Sals and Draco Malfoy, before she admitted that she would never have thought she could see the blonde as she now did, or that she would ever become friends with Severus Snape's son.

This last month had certainly been a watershed and a lesson in overcoming her own prejudices and opening up to new possibilities.

"Prejudices:" Hermione thought about that for a minute, as she looked at Ronald Weasley, standing there in the middle of the room, belligerently staring at the only other student still standing.

She felt suddenly humbled by the realisation that she had been so wrong and so blind on so many levels, over the last five years.

Hermione had always considered herself to be open-minded. But, as she looked at Weasley, she realised that he was just as bigoted as any Slytherin, and she had allowed herself to be duped into thinking that she held the high moral ground.

She'd been so easily convinced that the Slytherin Pure Bloods were all wrong, that they were biased and self-opinionated bullies.

But Weasley was a Pure Blood, and he was just as much a bully and a bigot as any Slytherin; Hermione had simply been too blind to see it until now.

Of course Draco Malfoy's performance on the Hogwarts Express, that first day, back in their first year, had only helped to colour Hermione's view, back then.

Ron Weasley's blind hatred of all things Slytherin had merely channelled that view for Hermione, and Ronald had remained her primary source on the matter ever since.

Hermione smiled as she looked across to Neville and Gregory Goyle, and wondered how that would turn out.

Things were certainly getting off to a new start this year; maybe there was some hope after all.

Then Hermione thought about McGonagall, and she became angry.

She'd always seen the woman as demanding but fair; but she could not suppress her anger at the way McGonagall had it in for Sals. Hermione would have sworn that the old witch would have embraced the hat's philosophy, but she seemed to be doing anything but.

The double lesson proceeded smoothly, and Hermione found it interesting and enjoyable. Ironically she seemed less compelled to prove herself, and Professor Snape seemed more tolerant of her answers, when she provided them.

The practical component of the lesson was quite demanding, though just as interesting and enjoyable. But Hermione was surprised that Professor Snape did not call on Sals or Draco or even herself to demonstrate any moves or spells that she and the professor knew they could perform.

Perhaps he had decided that Sals had suffered enough exposure, over his first twenty hours in the school.

Hermione eventually concluded that it was a sound tactic. Better to let the powerful, young wizard ease into the limelight in his father's class, as she knew he undoubtedly would, when the time was right.


Ron Weasley was livid. Apologising to that arsehole, Snape, had been the most humiliating thing he'd ever had to do. Then, as if that wasn't enough, lunch in the Great Hall had been totally embarrassing.

Ron had been so hungry, with almost no time left before the next lesson, that he hadn't time to give thought to anything other than getting some nosh into his rumbling guts.

Starving as he had been, he never really enjoyed it; he still couldn't get the smell of shit out of his nose or its taste from his mouth!

Then Snape's greasy git of an old man had set about making Ron's life hell, in the last class of the day, a double DADA, if you please!

The bastard had been trying to get that class forever, and Dumbledore had just handed it over to the slimy git, as easy as you please.

With Harry gone and Snape's shithead son in the class, it was going to be a nightmare. What was Dumbledore thinking?

McGonagall was no better, sticking up for Snape, and forcing Ron to apologise to the arsehole! The prick should not even be in Gryffindor. The whole place was going to the dogs.

He wanted to kill Salazar Snape.

"Salazar!" Could you believe it! A name like that and he ends up in Gryffindor! He was oozing Dark Magic, and he was controlling everyone around him, and they were all too confounded or too stupid to realise!

"Why am I the only one who can see it?" Ron grumbled to himself, as he stormed along the empty corridor on his own.

Ron even suspected Dean and Seamus now.

After only one night in their dorm, Snape seemed to have hexed them too.

Thanks to old man Snape forcing Ron to sit next to that tosser Nott, he hadn't really had a chance to talk to either of them, until now.

Ron couldn't be sure about it, but both Seamus and Dean had seemed pretty damn anxious to get back to the Gryffindor tower. They'd seemed evasive when he'd tried to grill them on how they had put up with Snape in the dorm last night.

He was going to follow them up to the tower, but had decided to get some fresh air instead.

As Ron walked down towards the lake, he became more and more frustrated.

He felt so isolated. He was mad at the world; he was even pissed off with Harry. He still couldn't believe that his best friend had abandoned him.


Sals was dreading returning to the Gryffindor tower, and the inevitable confrontation with Weasley, with whom he would now be forced to share a dorm.

If only the idiot was still a prefect, then they wouldn't have to share the same living space.

No!... that was stupid... the thought of the irascible redhead having any authority over him would have been more than Sals could bear. At least this way they were on an equal footing and, theoretically, he could ignore the twit.

But Sals knew that was just wishful thinking, and he would just have to take each encounter with the cretin, one step at a time.

Working on the principle that the less time he spent in the redhead's presence the less chance there was of confrontation, Sals headed to the one place he was least likely to encounter the idiot, the library.

He let it drop that he was going there, within earshot of his little Irish imp, hoping that the slut would follow.

Sals knew that he had the size queen just where he wanted him, and that Finnigan's cock and arse would overrule any allegiance he had to Weasley.

The little faggot had not been able to take his eyes off Sals's cock in the showers. The Leprechaun had only left the bathroom first because he couldn't stop drooling and he'd been starting to chub-up in front of his housemates.

The best way of subduing Weasley, without risking any further clashes with McGonagall, was to take away his supporters, one by one.

Sals had Neville Longbottom from the start, and was well on the way to drawing Finnigan from Weasley's side. Of course, Dean Thomas would be a far more difficult prospect.

Apart from the fact that Thomas was obviously straight, he was less likely to abandon Weasley. He resented Sals for several reasons, jealousy aside, not the least of which was the fact that Thomas still had the hots for Ginny Weasley, and regarded Sals as competition in that arena.

Sals smiled smugly; little did the tall, black spunk know!

Of course there was the added bonus that the more Gryffindors Sals drew away from Weasley, the more support he had in the house of lions.


Hermione was delighted when Sals announced that he would join her and Draco in the library, after DADA.

She went on ahead and met Draco there, where they claimed her favourite table and set about finding the texts that they wanted to research for McGonagall's Transfiguration homework.

When Sals eventually arrived, Hermione was a little startled that Seamus was in his wake.

Apart from the fact that Seamus was almost less likely to frequent the library than Ronald Weasley, Hermione was amazed that he had so quickly gravitated towards Sals, particularly after his behaviour in the common room last night.

It was obvious that Draco was equally surprised by this, and there was the inescapable sense that the Irish Gryffindor's presence had put Draco on edge.

This became exacerbated when Sals and Seamus had gone to the stacks to retrieve a text that Sals had suggested might contain what they were all looking for.

They went missing for some considerable time, and Draco became more distracted, the longer they were gone.

When Sals and Seamus finally returned, the latter was clearly flushed and was acting rather frivolously, almost nervously, so much so that Madam Pince had threatened to kick the Leprechaun out of the library.

Seamus eventually settled down, but seemed to be almost obsessed with Sals, and made a point of agreeing with everything that Sals said.

It was clear to Hermione that this was really pissing off Draco, and the blond's equally bizarre behaviour reminded her of their first encounter at Edburg's, all those weeks ago.

Just after Seamus started work on his own homework scroll, Draco and Sals went to the stacks to find another text. They returned very quickly, and Draco immediately announced that he had to return to Slytherin. He seemed flustered and left abruptly.

This all seemed very odd to Hermione, and she was tempted to jump to conclusions, but dismissed her suspicions as fanciful.

However, despite that rationalisation, she could not help but feel that something had happened between Seamus and Sals in the stacks, and that it had upset Draco.

It was not very much later when Sals announced that he had finished all of his homework, but had barely shared any of his findings with Hermione.

He left, with Seamus following him like a little puppy.

"Boys!" Hermione grumbled to herself, and went back to her scroll.

Hermione was hurt by Sals's behaviour, especially his failure to interact or discuss his findings with her. So, left to her own devices, she proceeded to complete her homework, before returning to the Gryffindor tower, to hustle the first years down to the Great Hall for dinner.


Hermione and Ginny were already seated, when Sals arrived in the Great Hall; he was accompanied by Neville.

Seamus was still in Sals's wake, and just as infatuated as ever.

The trio took their seats across the table from Hermione and Ginny, and engaged the girls in animated, pleasant, but trivial conversation.

Ginny seemed equally surprised by Seamus's very public shift in allegiance, and tacitly shared her bemusement with Hermione.

Both girls eyed Ronald cautiously, as he glared down the table at Seamus, who seemed totally oblivious to the dark rumblings emanating from Ron's cadre of malcontents.

But Hermione was well aware that Ronald was not the only disconcerted diner that night. She nudged Ginny and surreptitiously directed her attention across the hall towards the Slytherin table and the dark scowl that contorted Draco's visage.

Ginny creased her brow in confusion, until the Knut finally dropped. Her clear awareness of the implications of their shared observations, finally confirmed Hermione's nascent suspicions about the nature of Sals's relationship with Seamus, and the effect it was having on Draco.

Hermione looked down the table at Ronald, again, then  as she watched the interactions between Sals and Seamus  began to wonder if Sals was manipulating Seamus as a means of undermining Ronald.

She began to suspect that she was right, and did not like what she saw.

She suspected that Draco liked it even less.

Hermione determined to talk to Sals about this, as soon as they returned to Gryffindor tower. She knew it was really none of her business, but it irked her to think that Sals was manipulating Seamus just to get at Ronald.

As deplorable as the redhead's behaviour had been, Hermione felt that Sals' tactic was almost as bad.

However, Hermione's plans to tackle Sals were scuttled, when he stood up from the table and announced that he would see them all later, as he had to go and talk to his dad.


When Seamus stepped through the portrait hole, with Neville, Hermione and Ginny, he was surprised to find Ron Weasley waiting for him in the common room.

The redhead was surrounded by the usual group of malcontents, mainly boys from the lower years, with Dean being the only one from the Sixth.

"Well if it isn't the rats," snarled Weasley, as he got to his feet and crossed the floor to stand directly in Seamus's path, towering over him.

Ron sneered at the other three, but his focus was on Seamus, who felt decidedly uncomfortable, and even threatened, but he stood his ground.

"Decided to join the other traitors, eh Seamus?" Weasley exploded in the Irish boy's face.

Seamus was formulating a response, when Hermione beat him to it.

"Grow up, Ronald!" she snapped, "we don't have time for this!"

"I wasn't talking to you Granger!" the redhead snarled.

"Well I'm talking to you whether you like it or not!" she retorted. "You are such a hypocrite, Ronald Weasley!" she snapped. "I'm just annoyed with myself for taking so long to see it."

"What are you talking about?" Weasley roared, as he invaded Seamus's personal space, but looked directly over him, as if the smaller boy no longer existed, and directed his ire at his former friend.

"You're always going on about how Slytherins are all bullies and bigots, Ronald. But just take a look at yourself!"

Hermione drew a breath before she continued.

"Your bigotry towards anything even remotely Slytherin is an obsession; and I doubt there is a bigger bully in Hogwarts right now, than Ronald Weasley!"

"What the bloody hell are you going on about, Granger?" he snapped at her.

"Look at you!" she repeated, "trying to intimidate Seamus, with your little gang to back you up. You're so blind, you can't even recognise your own bully-boy tactics for what they are.

"Well you don't intimidate me, Ronald Weasley, and I won't stand by and watch you intimidate or threaten any other Gryffindors either. Grow up!" Hermione snapped.

Then she glared at the group assembled behind the redhead, and shouted, "ALL OF YOU!"

Weasley was lost for words, he gawped, seemingly searching for a retort, when Neville weighed in...

"Hermione's right, Ron."

The lanky Gryffindor spoke quietly and calmly, but there was no doubt about his resolve.

"It's time you grew up! After what we went through last June, you of all people should know that we are fighting a war. Your obsession with Slytherin has always blinded you.

"We don't have time for these childish schoolboy squabbles and pointless house rivalries. Time we left that crap on the Quidditch pitch and turned our attention to the real issues, like kicking Voldemort's arse!"

"No need for me to tell you what I think, is there brother?" Ginny asked rhetorically. "Hermione and Neville are right, it's time you grew up!"

"Anyway, I'm goin' t' bed," Seamus declared more forcefully than he felt, albeit emboldened by the support of the others.

He pushed Ron aside and headed up the stairs towards the Sixth dormitory.

"Night Herm, Gin," he shot over his shoulder, "night Nev."

"See you later, Seamus," Neville replied, as Seamus took the steps two at a time.


When Seamus got to the dorm, he decided that he needed to bathe. He felt dirty after his encounter with Weasley, and wanted to soothe himself with a warm shower.

But a cheeky grin crept over the Irish imp's face, as he contemplated the other reason he wanted to hop under a nice hot shower, and his cock was already at full mast, just thinking about Salazar Snape's massive weapon.

As Seamus soaped up his turgid six inches, under the steaming shower, he closed his eyes and let his imagination run wild.

He could see Sals's huge cock before his eyes, as it slowly rose to its full height.

The excited Leprechaun had thought about nothing else all day. He had measured his own forearm during Transfiguration. It was just over nine inches from elbow to wrist.

Sals was at least a foot taller than him, and that monster cock was easily as long as Sals's forearm. Fuck... it was more than half the length of Sals's own thigh!

So Seamus estimated that it had to be a good ten inches on the slack! He shivered with the idea that it must be eleven... twelve, maybe more, when it was rampant.

He imagined the thick foreskin rolling back, to reveal the tattooed glans, with the basilisk teeth and tongue looming large.

Seamus pulled down hard on his balls, retracting his own foreskin as far back as he could, as he rinsed the soap from his cock, which was hard as steel.

Then, stretching the skin of his cock as taut as he could, he wanked himself furiously, without any soap to smooth the way, feeling the increased friction pushing him to the very edge.

Just as he was about to explode, Seamus released his cock and slumped against the tiled shower wall in exhaustion.

The Irish sprite repeated the process, until he slumped against the tiles once more. Then he released his scrotum, and reached back to trace his fingers along his soapy perineum, until he reached his goal.

Slowly slipping first one, then two and finally four fingers into his hot, soapy hole, Seamus brought himself back to the edge, as he slowly worked his foreskin over his rock-hard erection.

He leant his head hard against the tiled wall, with the hot water streaming over his scalp and shoulders, as he worked his arse and cock into a rhythm.

It was more than a fortnight since Seamus had felt his mother's dildo pulsing against his prostate, and it was nearly six months since he'd had a decent cock up his arse.

He'd fallen out with Justin Finch-Fletchley, just after the Easter break, and he knew that the prospect of sitting on that magnificent nine inches of pulsating cock again, and driving it deep into his colon, was little more than a fantasy.

But neither the dildo nor the Hufflepuff's cock were even remotely as big as Sals's monster, even when it was limp. So Seamus strained to jam his thumb between his fingers, to try to force his entire fist into his gaping cavity.

He wondered at the prospect of touching, let alone wanking or sucking, that massive basilisk cock, and furthermore  if he ever got the chance to plough it into his hot arse  would he be able to take it?

With more soap on his fingers, Seamus's efforts were enough to finally jam his entire fist past his over-stretched sphincter and into his swollen anal cavity.

As he scraped his fingers across his prostate, and wanked his chaffing cock in a frenzy, he finally erupted into total orgasm.

His hot spunk squirted out against the tiles, and trickled down the wall, to swirl into the drain with the suds and mucus from his gaping arse.

Seamus was totally spent.

Even though the sun was nearly two hours from setting, his one resolve was to hit the pillow and dream of getting his hands, mouth and hot arse onto the dragon monster that was Salazar Snape's enormous cock!


Sals entered the Gryffindor common room with a degree of apprehension. He was not in the mood for any shit from Weasley.

He worried that, after what had just happened in the dungeons, he might not be able to rein in his emotions, if that redheaded fuckwit pushed him too far.

The young warlock had come directly from Slytherin; he was exhausted, having first talked to his father, then sorted out the Prince of Slytherin.

The latter had been a torrid affair, but he could not and would not allow anything to jeopardize their chances of success.

Draco had been hurt badly this time, even more than after their return from that first encounter with Voldemort.

Even so, Sals was still angry, because he had thought, after that first night of intense violence, that the blonde Slytherin had learned just how ruthless Sals was prepared to be, and the degree to which he was prepared to go.

The trouble was that, tonight, Sals had let his lust run unchecked. He had cut loose, letting his passion and his ruthless ambition override cold logic and the sense of what needed to be done to maintain effective control over the situation.

Now he worried that the damage might be beyond repair. He knew he had gone too far and feared that he might have weakened his one means of controlling Slytherin.

That was cold and callously pragmatic, he knew that. But Draco had to know what was going to happen and what Sals was going to do, was prepared to do. Sals just hoped tonight's excess had not thrown a spanner in the works.

The common room was surprisingly subdued, as Sals let the portrait close behind him.

Weasley was in the corner with his cadre, but surprisingly no Leprechaun and no Thomas, only a couple of fourth and fifth years, the juniors having already been sent to bed.

Maybe Sals's tactic was working, or maybe Weasley's whining was simply wearing thin.

Whatever the reason, the redheaded lunatic was still emanating a white-hot anger, but he was remarkably restrained, which was all that mattered.

To say that Sals was relieved would have been an understatement. There was no sign of Neville or the girls, so he decided he would make the most of the opportunity and turn in early.

When Sals arrived in the dormitory, he noticed that Weasley's trunk was at the foot of Neville's bed, which was unfortunately the closest to his own.

Sals glanced towards Finnigan's bed, and he was surprised to find the Leprechaun already sound asleep.

The tall, dark-haired spunk stripped to his boxers and headed for the bathroom.

As Sals made his way from the urinal to the sink, for  a lick and a promise' and to clean his teeth, Dean Thomas entered the room.

The tall, dark-skinned Gryffindor looked flushed but quietly radiated self-confidence.

Sals knew, even without resorting to Legilimency, that it could mean only one thing, given the absence of both the black dude and Ginny from the common room.

"You look pleased with yourself," Sals quipped playfully, taking a long shot, in the hope of scoring a bull's eye, "how's Ginny then?"

Thomas looked suddenly apprehensive, and a frisson of aggression slid across his face.

"Don't worry," Sals chirped reassuringly, "I haven't been spying on you. Just a stab in the dark."

"Smart arse!" Thomas spat, but with no genuine aggression.

"Not really," Sals grinned, "it's written all over your face."

"Smart arse!" Thomas repeated, but this time it was accompanied by a grin, and a thawing of the atmosphere.

"So, can we assume that you two have patched up your differences?"

Sals posed the question, knowing full well that the enquiry could provoke one of two diametrically opposed responses, but deciding it was worth the risk.

The initial response looked as if it might have been the wrong option, as Thomas flared his nostrils and scowled at Sals.

"What's it to you, Snape?" the tall, fit lad retorted.

"Nothing really," Sals countered reassuringly, "just I've got to know Gin pretty well over the last two days, and I know she was really upset that you weren't talking. Just glad to see you two together again, that's all."

"Smart arse!" Thomas fired back again, and followed it up with a laugh, before he quipped back, "so how's Seamus then?"

"Smart arse!" Sals retorted, and as he walked towards the tall, black stud, offered his hand for a high five, which Thomas reciprocated.

Sals proceeded to clean his teeth, while Thomas emptied his bladder.

"I'm off to bed, see you in the morning," Sals declared, as he left Thomas in the bathroom, and headed back to the dorm.

Sals mused on the fact that it had been sex that had weaned both of Weasley's closest allies from his cadre.

He smiled at that, confident that there was little the carrot-top could do or say that was likely to compete with Thomas's or Finnigan's genitals.

Things were looking up! He was fast asleep before Thomas turned in, with no sign of the noxious redhead on the horizon.


When Sals awoke to his second morning at Hogwarts, it was clear, from the animated behaviour of Thomas and Finnigan, that they had slept well.

They both greeted Sals, as he got out of bed and stretched his perfect body sensuously, watching Finnigan ogling at him, as he did so.

"Sleep well, Sals?" enquired the Leprechaun.

"Ready for another glorious day at Hogwarts, Snape?" enquired Thomas with a little more restraint.

"Yeah, thanks, guys," he replied pleasantly.

That seemed to be the cue that dragged Weasley out of his stupor; he growled like a wounded bear.

"What time is it?" he snarled, as he bored into his inflamed eyes with his knuckles and yawned without covering his mouth. No surprises there!

He had obviously not slept well; no surprises there either.

Sals was sure he'd been tossing all night, no doubt fuming at the fact that his cadre was leaking.

"What are you lookin' at Snape?" Weasley snapped when he saw the smile on the newest Gryffindor's handsome face.

"Give it a rest, Ron," Thomas moaned, much to Sals's surprise and delight.

"Yeah, it's gettin' a bit borin', ye' know," chorused Finnigan, "come on Sals, time to hit the showers," the Leprechaun chirped salaciously, as he picked up his towel and toiletries.


If you are enjoying this, you might like my other two Nifty stories...
This is a two-chapter Potterverse short story [complete].
This is on-going and I'm updating it as I write each new chapter.

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