Deafening, trumpet-driven music suddenly blared from down one of them. Muggle music, if he wasn't mistaken. While not exactly slow, it had a distinctly measured pace and a rhythm he could associate with seductive, arrogant bastards everywhere. Draco music. Partially out of annoyance, partially out of curiosity (why on Earth would Draco listen to Muggle music?) he followed it.

Here comes the snake and he circles your leg,
He's come to play and make your body parts shake, baby.

Draco's door was open enough for him to see inside. Putting on his best "evil professor" stoicism he peered through the crack.

And froze.

Draco, wearing baggy tapered tarnished-silver trousers and a loosely-tailored white shirt, was swaying in front of a full-length mirror. It was slow, metered to the music, and Severus couldn't help but wonder how he had never noticed the sixteen-year-old's serpentine grace. The black braces - with a dark green stripe up the middle of the straps - crossing his back with fabric and leather accented the muscles sliding across his shoulders. Indeed, very much like a snake.

He comes swervin' down your hall
It'll feel so good when he gives it his all.

Draco did a slow, lithe turn that made Snape want to uncharacteristically push open the door and join him. No, no, no! Get out of here, find Lucius, make more inane small talk, scheme, go home. You're here to spy, not to play filthy old man. But, god, the way his hips twisted and the way he made that fedora roll up his arm as he put it on were enough to make anyone forget about the Dark Lord.

Draco's eyes were half-closed, tipped down, a stray piece of his white-blonde hair, heavy with pomade, hanging over one. His pink lips were pouting, puckered into a self-absorbed smile. Severus licked his thin ones. Bloody Malfoys. Why did they have to ooze sex appeal?

He's like a jail and you need an escape
Want you to come get a file in your cake.

He realised he was leaning quite heavily against the doorframe, one arm wrapped over his head. An odd... well, not an ache exactly, more a very disconcerting sort of pressure, was building between his hipbones. Severus couldn't bring himself to shake it off. That pink flush in the boy's cheeks, the piston in his shoulders, the greased motions of his feet in those ridiculous wing-tipped shoes were doing something to his calculating brain. Machiavelli would be disappointed. Draco's collar was unbuttoned, revealing porcelain flesh. Snape could barely make out the opacity of a vest through the white shirt. He bit his lip. When Draco turned a few degrees, those baggy trousers hugged his slender behind. His slim hands with their sculpted fingers picked a tie off the bed - oh, god, Severus, don't start thinking about the bed! - and wrapped it around his upturned collar. Draco tied the knot slowly, gently grinding his hips at his own reflection. Thank gods and demons everywhere the mirror wasn't turned towards the door!

I know he did you wrong and I'm here to give ya what you wanted all along!
Here comes the snake.

The pressure had wormed its way up to his chest as well. Snape's thin fingers gripped at the doorjamb until he was sure the wood would crumble. His entire body was pressed close to the wall and it took rather a lot of waning effort not to rub against it. That damned collar was still upturned, the buttons undone. Only, now, a green tie with a hissing silver serpent hung loose and languid down Draco's slim, triangular chest. Severus could imagine too well the flat, dusky rose nipples beneath layers of fabric, the sleek muscles forged and tempered by hours on a broom. ARGH! Don't think about riding brooms! He swallowed; dry membranes stuck together when he did.

The pressure was a tingle now and had invaded two small points on his chest. This was his student, and the son of his simpering enemy. But, goddammit, when Draco closed the rest of his shirt and slid his tie into place it was all Severus could do not to remove them completely.

Yes, I believe but I'd rather not pray
What I believe in, I'd rather not say, baby!

Draco clipped a long green chain to his waistband. The loose shirt and trousers enhanced the narrowness of his waist. Rippling his spine and flexing his hips like a serpent he grabbed his jacket from the bed and threw it over his shoulder. The hat slipped to a jaunty angle over his face, bringing out his lusty eyes, the curve of his lip, the plain of his flushed pink cheek and milky sheen of his skin. With one last spin he lowered his head and aimed his wand at a strange device near the window. The music stopped.

Did your god show you the door?
Well, I'm here to eat your apple to the core.

Severus was still leaning heavily against the doorframe, panting slightly and not quite focused, when Draco opened the door. He didn't startle when he finally saw his teacher. Rather, his silver eyes turned smoky and a teasing smile crossed his lips. "I'm goin' to London, I'm gonna get some," he said in a soft singsong. Snape shivered inside. London sounded like such a nice place to be.

Draco sauntered down the hall, slung jacket swaying slightly. That little pink tongue forming quiet words burned its way into Snape's memory. Which way was the loo again? He thought he might need it again for some rather urgent, erm, business.

Severus nearly yelped when he turned to find Lucius standing behind him with his arms crossed. Instead, he put on a scowl to contrast the faintly amused smirk dancing over Malfoy's delicate features.

"I got lost," he snapped.

Lucius' smirk grew more solid. "I understand." He turned and started to leave Snape in the hall. Lucius glanced back. "Let me know if you see anything you like."

Here comes the snake.