Chapter 33: Dungeon of Love

“Se — Professor!” Harry gasped in surprise, and the man grunted in return.

“Potter. I shall require your presence downstairs. Not immediately. After supper.”

Harry could not fail to notice the man was particularly pale, his eyes dark and large and glittering. Afraid. His hands were tightening at the knuckles, and then relaxing, and then tightening again as they hung at his sides. It was as though he were a gunfighter, and expected, and any moment, a voice to cry out behind him, ‘Draw!” Except, of course, it would be his wand he drew, instead of a gun, and Harry did not think Voldemort so noble as to give warning before he cursed someone. Harry did not like the man’s tenseness.

He was frozen to the spot, debating, when Severus stepped closer, gently brushing his fingers against the sleeve of Harry’s robe. Harry reached out, barely grazing those fingers with his own.

Blaise reached the top of the steps and froze. There had been no voices to warn him of what was going on in the upper hall; although he could see that Harry’s lips were moving, the boy was talking so quietly that no sound traveled beyond the small confines of their private world. He saw Harry’s hand reach up and gently push back a strand of the Potions Master’s hair — as if he needed further confirmation of their sudden intimacy. Blaise took a hesitant step backward, watching carefully.

Harry was looking up into the man’s eyes; his own were large and soft with tender radiance. His movements were shy, but the shyness hardly managed to dim the burning emotion that infused them. The old man didn’t even seem to realize. He looked uncertain; insecure — as though, in fact, he didn’t have any idea how Harry felt about him.

Blaise had no such incomprehension. Harry’s green eyes were lit, as though they were showing off the glow in his heart, and Blaise knew Harry, too, had glimpsed the truth in the myth. Love. And the veiled longing in the Potions Master’s eyes told everything Blaise needed to know about how the man felt in return.

And nothing left on the table for Blaise. Fuck. Unrequited love was such a bitch. He began to hear voices, coming up the stairs behind him. The students were going back to their dorms. If he wanted to say anything to Harry, he’d better say it now. But was there anything left to say? He deliberated on the future for a few moments, picturing how Harry would run to him for comfort every time Severus struck him down — and it would happen a lot. And Blaise would give him what he needed — oh, God — and then it would be back to Severus, with an honest apology. He couldn’t live like that. And every time it happened, it would cut the man to the quick — he deserved it! — but then the distrust and betrayal and self-loathing would build up, eat away at all three of them. Severus would try to pretend all was normal, but whenever he felt particularly hurt he would lash out, and then the cycle would start all over again. And Harry would hurt. He didn’t deserve that. And feel guilty, and he felt that way too much already.

Blaise walked quickly towards the two of them. He would have to stop it, now. Take this thing and snap it in half, so that it could never be mended again. It was the only way.

“Harry?” he called in his seductive undertone as he came closer. “I need to talk to you.”

‘Oh, fucking great. This is JUST what I need. Like trying to communicate with Severus isn’t nearly impossible at the best of times.’ Out loud, Harry remained patient. “Yes, Blaise?”

“I’ve decided this has just gotten too...too monotonous. I mean; I AM somewhat fond of you, but I cannot remain abstinent for the rest of my life. Your persistent adhesion to maidenhood is touching, but just a tad...well, pathetic, to tell you the truth. I just can’t wait for you. I’m very sorry but, well...you knew I would get bored eventually. Don’t feel too badly about it; it was just another fling for me, and I’m sure you’ll eventually find someone decent, though undeniably not someone so skilled as myself.” Harry was staring at his fellow student, giving Snape another excellent demonstration of the art of dropping one’s jaw. “Do take care of yourself, won’t you?” Blaise bit his lip a moment, but found he was unable to resist his impulses. He grabbed Harry by the front of his robes and pulled him into a short, but very deep kiss, ending with a swift tongue over the boy’s front teeth. “But if you should ever decide on losing the cherry act, I’d be willing to give you a one-shot lesson in the art of sexual satisfaction,” he informed Harry in a low, sultry voice, before stepping back and giving him a goodbye wink.

Harry didn’t even notice that the hall around them had filled up with students. He completely ignored the multiple witnesses to his scandalous breakup, his ignominious dumping. He watched Blaise walk up to Severus — who looked as though he’d been force-fed a glass of vinegar — and mutter something to the man, before turning and flouncing his way back down the hall. Harry found he was shaking a little.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry!” he heard Hermione cry, and he shook his head at her, giving her a warning glance.

“That was kind of a shitty thing to do,” Seamus said somewhere behind him.

“Yes, but quite predictably Blaise all the same,” Jack sighed in return. “The Great Zabini does it again! Be amazed at his miraculous contortions! Let him astound you with his mysterious disappearing act!”

Harry felt something plucking at his sleeve, and followed as Snape motioned him off to one side.

“Eight o’clock. Understood?”

Harry recalled his former pledge to keep the man safe, and tried to harden his resolve. “I can’t,” Harry croaked, stepping back. “I have — I have to. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

Severus looked frankly astonished for a moment; obviously he thought the youth would leap at the opportunity to spend further time in his company. “Do you have other plans?” he demanded, eyes narrowing.

Harry couldn’t meet them. “Yes,” he said, searching his mind frantically.

“With Mister Zabini, perhaps?” Severus’s voice was alarmingly glacial.

Harry remembered Ron saying that Severus was jealous of Blaise. At the time, it had seemed amusing, but now he felt a twinge of fright. Besides, jealousy didn’t feel very nice. He hadn’t liked feeling it when he’d thought Snape and Lupin were together, and he certainly didn’t want to inflict the feeling on anyone else. He didn’t want to hurt the Potions Master, so he didn’t say ‘yes,’ but merely shrugged and looked away.

To Harry’s surprise, instead of immediately becoming angry, Snape leaned in close to him.

Severus wanted to shrug and act as though he didn’t care. He wanted not to care. He really, really wanted to do the responsible thing and tell Potter that the meeting was nothing personal, just something Albus asked him to do. Instead, he heard himself say, “I suppose I should not be unduly surprised. He is every bit as appropriate as an after dinner mint, don’t you think?” and was horrified by the ache and envy that were so blatant in his voice. It did have one positive affect: Harry’s head jerked right up.

“It isn’t like that,” Harry protested in a voice hardly above a whisper, and flinched at the self-mocking sneer that curled the man’s lips, the bitter shake of his head. “It isn’t like that at all.” He lifted his hand timidly, again brushing a lock of hair out of the man’s face. “I’m not going to see Blaise. I just don’t...think. I...don’t...God. I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he whispered, trying to disregard the way he could still hear the other students talking about him in the background.

Severus relaxed a little. “Then stop being stupid and follow my instructions,” he told the boy. “Trust me.” Harry chewed his lower lip in a far more enticing manner than ought to have been allowed, clearly still indecisive. “I’ve obtained a new bottle of brandy,” the Potions Master said in a siren’s voice, playing his trump card.

Harry felt his lips quirk up at the corners. Really, it was sweet of him to bother with bribes, when all he really had to do was go into ‘I-AM –The- Professor-You-Will-Do-As-I-Say’ mode. All right. Trust. He could do that. “Eight o’ clock,” he agreed.

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Harry made his way down to the dungeons that night, tired and confused. He worried about how he was to get back, with no invisibility cloak to shield him, and although he could have used the clasp Severus gave him for Christmas, he was too afraid of losing it. Maybe Snape would give him a pass or something. Two passes: one for him and one for Junior, who was going along for small, green moral support.

When Snape opened the door, he led Harry into the study as always. Something had changed, though, and it took Harry a few moments to realize what it was; there was another smaller, more cushioned armchair across from Severus’s antique wingback. He stared at it in surprise for a few moments before a snifter of brandy was held up in front of his nose.

“Oh, so you DO have brandy!” he exclaimed, taking the glass and turning to his host. “And you’re actually OFFERING me some.”

“And what, Mister Potter, is that supposed to mean?” Severus took a small drink of his own, studying the boy over the rim of the glass.

“Nothing,” Harry replied. “It’s just that it would be so like you to say you had brandy, and not actually mean anything by it.”

The eyebrow arched. “Are you implying that I’m a tease?”

Harry, who had been in the process of swallowing, choked a little on the liquor, while Snape rolled his eyes and patted him lightly on the back. “Brandy is to be sipped, Potter, not chugged down mouthful by mouthful,” he remonstrated.

“Yeah, well,” Harry coughed, “You’re just lucky I had already swallowed most of that, or you would be WEARING that particular mouthful.”

“I see you’ve brought your obnoxious little sidewinder along.” Severus took another sip and arranged himself in his chair. “I fail to comprehend the reason,” he sniffed.

Harry set Junior on Snape’s knee, forgoing the new chair for his preferred place at the man’s feet. “Because ickle Sevvie missed his daddy,” he said sweetly, with a wicked smile. Snape’s eyes flashed at Harry, causing him to laugh, and Junior demanded to know what Harry had said.

Harry made an attempt at translation, and repeated himself to the snake in Parseltongue. ‘The one that spawned me?’ Junior echoed in a puzzled voice, causing Harry to collapse in giggles. He leaned weakly against the man’s legs and took another sip of brandy before trying to explain further. Severus watched him with concealed pleasure, wanting to run his fingers through the boy’s hair, but settling for petting Junior.

Harry told Junior that he liked Snape, and enjoyed teasing him. Junior, however, still did not fully grasp the idea of ‘like’ as opposed to ‘dislike,’ and wanted Severus put in a more familiar category. Harry reluctantly reiterated what Snape was to him, and Junior replied wisely, ‘Then he is one you will make more snakes with?’

Harry must have looked dubious, because Severus gave him a speculative look and said, “I feel rather left out. What exactly are the two of you discussing? The mysteries of the universe, one would assume?”

“Sex,” Harry replied inattentively. Severus blinked, but Harry did not even notice. Junior was asking him, ‘But where are all the others?’ “What do you mean, ‘others?’” Harry asked the snake. “There aren’t any others. Just Severus. What others would there be?”

Junior tried to unfold the reptile world for Harry. ‘One is not enough, is it? I am young, and have only mated once, but there were many others. Where is your ball? You should have a ball.’

“Er...like a party?” Harry responded, picturing a scaly version of Cinderella.

‘I do not know ‘party.’ Is ‘party’ when many come together, in the sunshine, and form a ball to mate?’

“Oh, yuck!” Harry said in English, laughing. Severus was still raising his eyebrows, so Harry repeated the conversation for his benefit.

“Ah. Ophidian orgies. How nice,” the man commented, throwing back the rest of his glass, and Harry laughed again. “And it’s called a mating ball,” he added as an afterthought.

“I like ‘snake ball’ better. He wants to know, since I like you and want to be with you, where all of the others are,” Harry told the man. “I suppose we could invite Lupin and Blaise to join us,” he added teasingly, earning himself a sour look from the man. “Come on, you know you want to.” Still snickering, he moved Junior out of the way and slid onto the Potions Master’s lap. “No? I guess you’ll have to settle for me, then.” He pressed his lips lightly against the man’s neck. “We can make a two person snake ball.”

With a will of its own, one of Severus’s arms wrapped around the youth. “A two person snake ball. My life’s ambition come to pass,” he said dryly, and a moist pair of lips sealed themselves over his own.

For a few minutes, both wizards were lost in the warmth of one another’s mouths. Harry’s fingers lightly ran up and down Severus’s throat, dipping down the into collar of his robes, while Severus found one of his own hands sliding down to cup the boy’s arse. Harry moaned into his mouth, causing the man to jerk back. “That’s enough,” he murmured. “I didn’t call you down here for this.” He pushed Harry gently away, trying to ignore the low, disappointed groan that touched off signals in his groin. “Harry. This is serious. We need to talk.”

Harry slid reluctantly out of Snape’s lap onto the floor, stopping with his head perched on the man’s knee. Severus elevated a brow at that, but Harry just scowled in return. He was damned if Snape thought he could get him any further away. Then the man sighed, his face turning troubled, and Harry felt his pulse quicken in alarm. The Potions Master rarely revealed any negative emotion other than anger. Worry was definitely a new one. “What is it?” he questioned gently.

Snape paused, looking as though he would rather not answer, but finally responded, “Draco Malfoy is dead.” Harry gasped. It couldn’t be. He just saw Draco — held him even — at the Christmas party. It was only a little more than a week ago. “He’d been marked. The Dark Lord charged him with a task, and it was beyond his ability to complete.”

Harry heard the skittering sound of an unpleasant truth being avoided. He couldn’t believe Snape would do that to him. He was cruel, but generally forthright. “What aren’t you telling me?” he growled with a determined chin.

The man sighed unhappily. “He was told to seduce you. He was told to bring you to Voldemort. He was made to entrap you, Harry.”

Harry suddenly sat ramrod straight at this news, as the realization dawned. “In the bathroom...that’s what he was doing. And I ended up killing him. I did, didn’t I? It’s my fault he’s dead,” he croaked in horror.

“It’s nothing of the sort,” Severus sharply snapped at him. “You have the most revolting habit of acting as though you are the cause and consequence of all things in creation. It’s pure arrogance to speak that way.” Harry looked a little calmer at this, and Snape felt himself breathe again. He had been convinced the wretched pup would cry, and that always caused the Potions Master to react in the most mortifying ways. “It was purely Draco’s choice, and he was always a weakling. He made a good many ill decisions, and this is where it led him.”

Harry’s eyes immediately filled with indignant tears. “How can you say something like that?” he hissed. “My God, Severus, he’s DEAD. And whatever choices he made, it was MY choice that led him into that washroom that night. It was MY choice that led — to his death,” he choked, the sobs beginning to well up. “He died because he warned me. Isn’t that true? He died because of me. Just like Sirius. And Cedric. Be — because of me. The Dursleys should have kept me locked in that closet forever,” he added. “I’m a menace.” He was dimly aware of bowing his head to Snape’s knee again, and the man’s long, agile fingers running compassionately through his hair. “I should come with a label: WARNING — having this product in proximity may cause sudden death.”

“Stop that,” Severus ordered thickly. “What a load of bollocks. You were not the cause of any of that. Do you hear me? Stop it!” He cupped Harry’s chin and forced the boy to look him in the eye. “If you want to blame someone, then you may bloody well blame Voldemort! He was the cause of their deaths. He was the one that wanted them to die.”

Harry was so shocked he stopped crying. “You said his name. You’ve never done that before.” Snape winced. “Oh, don’t,” Harry breathed. “It was. Very brave. I’m awfully proud of you.”

Snape’s lip curled at the corner. “You are much too easily impressed, then.” Harry leaned up and pressed his lips to the Potions Master’s again. Severus, tasting salt, softly kissed back for a few moments before excusing himself to obtain a second glass of brandy. Harry asked if he might have some, as well, and Snape, surprised to see Harry had also finished his first glass, acquiesced. “I bought that chair especially for you,” he pointed out gently. “Don’t tell me that you intend to be a colossal waste of money, on top of everything else.”

Harry wrinkled his nose, smiling, and retrieved Junior to try out the chair. “It’s very comfortable,” he admitted. “But it’s just not close enough to you.”

Severus raised his eyes heavenward, dryly proclaiming, “Yes, it’s my uncontrollable animal magnetism that draws everyone near. Stars fall from the sky and birds drop dead at my feet whenever I go by.” He sighed dramatically. “If you must, you may move the chair closer.”

The teen giggled wildly for a long moment before he could catch his breath enough to deal with the chair, and Snape mused that Harry really did not have the head for strong liquor. He should buy a bottle of light sherry to try instead, next time. NEXT TIME? What the hell was getting into him? Ah, yes. The brandy.

“I think it’s supposed to be ‘stars fall down from the sky and...birds SUDDENLY APPEAR,’ not ‘drop dead at your feet,’ Severus,” Harry grunted, hauling the chair across the room. “Although I would agree that you have a rather intoxicating personality.”

The man shrugged. “I think the word you actually intended was ‘toxic.’ Either that or you are confusing me with the brandy. And as I am not overly fond of birds in any case, I fail to see what difference it makes. You do realize that with a wave of your wand, you could have saved yourself the brutish effort of having to heave that heavy object across the room, don’t you?”

Harry shot him a dirty look before flopping down, red faced and sweating. He’d placed the chair so close that their knees touched. “You could have offered that little tidbit before I got it all the way the hell over here,” he pointed out.

Severus sniffed. “I fail to see why I should enlighten you to such simple things. If you weren’t cocooned in your own idiocy you would have come up with the insight on your own.” Besides, the view of Harry bent over as he pulled the seat across the room was not one he’d have given up voluntarily. But the boy didn’t need to know that. Severus took a nonchalant sip from his glass, wishing this would help chase away such thoughts, rather than augment them.

“How did Draco die?” Harry asked quietly, causing the man’s eyes to dart over to him. He seemed subdued, but no longer on the verge of hysteria. Thank goodness.

“Avada Kedavra,” Snape muttered untruthfully, for he had no idea. “It was very quick. The Dark...Voldemort had not an excess of patience that night.” They sat in silence for a long time, drinking and reflecting. “I need to tell you what happened in Hogsmead,” he finally told the boy, loathe as he was to twist the knife.

“It was Death Eaters,” Harry replied dully. “I was there. Or at least, I saw it, and they saw me. There were people running all over the place, screaming, panicking. It was awful.”

“It was Lucius,” Severus responded. “The — V — Voldemort told him that you were the one to kill Draco. He wanted revenge. And, since not all of the Death Eaters feel that a mentally disturbed megalomaniac is, in fact, the most competent chairperson, they threw their weight behind the elder Malfoy when he suggested attacking Hogwarts. Well, actually, I doubt anyone feels Lucius is remotely saner than the D — v. Voldemort. Some have just come to fear him more. And others, perhaps, believed Voldemort’s lie, and feared for their own hellish progeny. At any rate, I am given to understand that Voldemort believed either you or Mister Malfoy, Senior would be destroyed. However, Dumbledore protected you as he should have, and Lucius escaped. Back to square one, lucky us,” he added bitterly.

Harry was impressed by how often the man managed to say the name in just a few sentences. It was as though, by voicing it, he was trying to purge it from his being. “Severus?” he said, savoring that specific name. “When I was...in Hogsmead, Dumbledore said, ‘To the hideout in the far south!’ What did he mean? Why did he say that?”

“Ah, that,” Severus said, looking just a trifle smug. “We had had a meeting place; a ‘hideout,’ if you would prefer, in Brighton. As a way of appeasing my superiors, I was allowed to let its location be known. Dumbledore had them abandon it while Hogsmead was being attacked. He had been prepared to do so, of course.”

Harry smiled. “That was clever,” he praised. After a few moments he added, “So now I have TWO magically adept, homicidal psychopaths after me?” he asked plaintively.

Severus covered the boy’s hand with his own, earning an enormously undeserved wide-eyed gaze of adoration. “If it is within my power, I will never let them harm you,” he told Harry in a low voice.

Harry smiled softly, and pulled the slender hand up to cradle it against his face, then kissed its knuckles. “Severus. You do know that I love you very much, don’t you?”

Severus grunted. “Do NOT put that in writing,” was all he managed to reply, and felt badly when Harry gave him a brittle half-smile, trying to cover up the hurt. “And you must have had too much to drink, to start spouting such nonsense.”

Harry just sighed in response, and the sigh turned into a long yawn. Harry clapped both hands over his mouth, and tried to look alert and energetic afterward, in an effort not to get sent back to his own rooms.

“You’re eyes are very red,” Severus observed pointedly.

Harry looked angry. “I’ve done more than a little crying in the past couple of days,” he replied.

“When was the last time you slept?”

Harry didn’t respond for a long stretch. Finally he grunted, “The night before last.” He turned to the Potions Master, pleading. “Don’t send me away, please? Not just yet. Just a little longer? Just...just let me finish this glass, all right?”

Severus hesitated before nodding. Harry took a couple more sips, and Snape noticed a few stray tears slip down the boy’s nose. Reaching out, he deftly brushed them away. “Do you...want to...talk...about it?” he managed to grate out. Damn it! That wasn’t what he meant to say at all! Bloody little urchin, looking like some sort of tragic cherub, forcing him to feel all...’sympathetic,’ and ‘touched.’ Ha. Touched in the head, perhaps.

“I didn’t like him. And he died anyway. You’d think hating me should offer some protection, huh? We didn’t like each other. I loved Sirius, oh, God, how I loved Sirius,” he broke down into real tears again, and Severus was infuriated with himself when he promptly leaned over and swept the boy out of his chair, taking him back to his lap and holding him there. He found himself fighting a terrifying swell of...of...anti-hatred, as he kissed the top of the inky-black head. “He died...he was the only person who ever loved me like that.” Severus would have been offended, but found this annoying overdose of... amity...drowned out everything else. “He was like...like my FAMILY, he loved me and touched me and acted like I was — I was — IMPORTANT, not because I’m the Boy Who Lived but because I’m ME, and they only HATED me, and it should have been them! Or me! It really was my fault — ”

“Shhh. Stop it, stop it, stop it,” Snape whispered to him. It was obvious the youth had been living with this for some time, and it needed to be dealt with. Stupid Lupin, for not dealing with it when he should have. “It wasn’t your fault. Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes we could have done something differently. That doesn’t mean it’s our fault. We didn’t even know, Harry. Don’t you understand? It isn’t your fault, because you couldn’t have acted differently, because you DIDN’T KNOW. You did your best, sweetheart. You did your best.” He was appalled and disgusted and somewhat relieved by the words coming out of his own mouth.

Harry’s sobs slowed considerably at hearing them. Then he grew angry instead. “You don’t understand,” he rasped acidly. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I don’t know what it’s like?” Severus repeated in disbelief. He took the boy by the hair, gently but firmly, and pulled back until he could look into Harry’s face. “I don’t know what it’s like? When I have killed before, purposely killed? When I stood and watched two decent wizards tortured until they lost their minds? When, by my own inaction, by my own stupidity, by my own avarice, people died, cried, fell into hopeless despair? I don’t know what it’s like?” he repeated angrily.

Harry had stopped crying. The look on his face made Severus’s stomach twist for a moment — God, not pity. Not from this boy, not from anyone. Please, no pity. “You do understand...” Harry breathed, lifting a hand to run a fingertip over Severus’s lips. “And I don’t; not really. I’m awfully sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. I was just...lashing out. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Severus replied, “You were upset. Think nothing more of it.” He ran a hand lightly along Harry’s back and said, “You’re obviously very tired. Let’s go to bed.” He stood with the youth still in his arms, heading for the bedroom.

“Wow. Really?” Harry sounded suddenly much more awake, and eager.

“You need REST, Mister Potter. You will be sleeping. Any extracurricular activities will be resolutely quashed. Is that understood?”

“Ooohhh. You’re no fun. Besides, we really might as well. The list of things we have to keep from Voldemort is huge; it can't hurt to add one more, and Dumbledore already knows. So why not?”

“Oh, Mister Potter, you hopeless romantic, you,” Snape deadpanned. “You are underage. You will not be ‘legal,’ as the general populace so eloquently puts it, until next year — in wizarding society, which, need I remind you, is the only one that counts?”

“You’re going to make me wait a whole YEAR?” Harry exclaimed, nettled.

Severus used his Slytherin mind games to full potential. “Yes, I should have realized you would not think it worth it.” He felt Harry’s indignation deflate.

“I never said that. It’s just...what if we don’t live that long? What if you die? What if I die? What if we both die?” Harry asked petulantly.

“I can see it will be sweet dreams tonight,” Severus remarked, irked. “Mister Potter,” he said, placing the Gryffindor on the bed, “I cannot. And if we were to do something like that, I must point out that I would, in reality, have a nearly impossible time hiding it from Voldemort. We are still in danger, Harry. Both of us. And as long as you are in danger, so is the rest of the world. This is a matter of responsibility.”

Harry refused to let go of the man’s robe until he reluctantly settled in beside him, then anxiously twirled a lanky black strand of Severus’s hair around a finger. “I understand,” he answered. “I really do, and I’ll try really, really hard not to do anything stupid.”

“Promises, promises,” Severus huffed. “I would appreciate it, Mister Potter, if you would remove your shoes whilst sharing my bed. This isn’t how you slept when you commandeered my sleeping quarters while I was away, is it?”

Harry flushed, jumping up and untying his shoes. “You — realized that?”

“I inferred it from the placement of the journal, and you just confirmed it,” Severus responded, secretly relishing the fact that Harry had been sleeping in his bed. He wandered over to his wardrobe and pulled out a couple of pairs of silken pajamas, raising his eyebrows in offering.

“Thanks,” Harry grunted. Severus changed right there in front of him, moving fluidly and without shame. His skin was like alabaster, and Harry found he had to shake himself out of a reverie after tracing the line of dark hair on Severus’s lower abdomen with his eyes. He was so enthralled that he tried to step out of his jeans without first removing his sneakers, and promptly fell over.

He heard Snape chuckling with mirth. “As always, Mister Potter, I am bewitched by your deportment and incomparable poise. Come to bed, Harry,” he added warmly.

Harry set his glasses on the nightstand and crawled in next to the Potions Master. “So...no snake ball tonight, then, huh?”

“Go to sleep, Mister Potter.”

“Severus? Whatever happens...I think it’s worth waiting for. And you’re worth waiting for. I love you,” he whispered.

Severus panicked. He couldn’t deal with this. “Where did you put that bloody snake?” he said, in lieu of an answer.

“Uh oh.”

It took them a little while to find Junior and get him a place to sleep, and by the time they did, Severus hoped Harry was thoroughly distracted. He let the boy wriggle into his arms, and they fell into a more rejuvenating sleep than either had experienced in many months.

They were still cuddled together the next morning, when they woke to the Headmaster’s gently cleared throat. Harry’s dismayed eyes popped open, and turned to the blurry man in the doorway. “Gentlemen?” he inquired. His face, so far as Harry could discern, was very grave. “I shall need to speak with Professor Snape.”

“Shit,” Snape replied.

Chapter 34: Name that Chapter!

“I think I’ll just go back to sleep,” Harry announced in a small voice, and pulled the covers over his head.

Snape gave him a dirty look, but said to the Headmaster in what he hoped was a composed manner, “Please wait outside. I’ll only take a moment to change.”

It was a good thing Harry had the covers over his head at this point, because Snape surely would have thwacked him upside the head for the grin that in reality remained hidden. He did, however, manage to make enough of a gap to discreetly watch the man as he disrobed. A year. A whole fucking year before he could have any of that. Unfair.

He shut his eyes and feigned sleep as Severus turned toward the bed. “I know you’re awake, you incommodious brat. If you feel exceptionally ill this morning, good, because you deserve it. If it’s going to interfere with your studies, take the BLUE bottle that’s second to the left on the bathroom counter, and use one spoonful to remedy your hangover. JUST ONE, or — and trust me on this — you’ll end up far more sober than you’d like. I’m going to see what the blasted Headmaster wants. I’ll expect you and your reptile out of my rooms by the time I return.” Harry felt disappointment well up, and he made a soft mewling noise to indicate this. The man sighed crankily, but bent and quickly pressed his lips to the side of the scruffy head. Then he immediately tried to regain his grasp of the upper hand. “I’ll see you in class, and not before. Make sure you’re out, Mister Potter, or you will pay,” he snarled threateningly.

Harry gave him a rakish grin. “Is that a promise?”

“Oh, shut up, Potter.”

“Another spanking or something?”

“Or something,” the man agreed. “You promised never to broach the subject again. Aside from that, it was more than two months ago. With your clearly insufficient brain, I’d have thought the whole incident would have been crowded out by now.”

“Ah. Yeah, brandy and the most kinky capital punishment ever dispensed at Hogwarts. Utterly forgettable.”

“Hmph. It wasn’t meant to be forgettable, just horrendously chastising,” the Potions Master replied curtly.

“Well then, I must say it worked perfectly. I was thoroughly chastised.” Harry hid the crossed fingers behind his back, and Severus gave him a suspicious look. “It was the ultimate, worst possible thing you could have done. I’ll never get over it,” he added, and at least the last bit was totally honest.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Are you going to leave as I asked, Potter, or am I going to have to get out my candles, draw some diabolic symbols on the floor and banish you to the nether regions of hell?”

“I’ll leave, I’ll leave,” Harry replied. He snuggled back down in the bed. “After I’ve slept in, of course.” He smiled smugly to himself as he heard the man mutter, beleaguered, as he left the rooms.

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Severus found that Albus had left a note. ‘In my office,’ was all it read. He took a deep breath and went directly there. “Toffees of goodwill,” he told the gargoyle, uptight. He HATED the new emergency password. When he reached the office, he found Dumbledore looking through a stack of papers. There were lines on the man’s face that he could swear had not been there yesterday. It struck him to the quick, to think he had failed the man to this end. “Albus, I’m very sorry, but you really must listen to me,” he began. “I swear to you that nothing sexual whatever took place in that bed. Er. Between myself and Potter, that is. And you may give me Veratiserum, and I promise I will STILL categorically deny deflowering that child. You must believe me.”

To his shock, the Headmaster actually rolled his eyes. “Merlin’s beard, Severus, stop being such a prude. I don’t care if you did or you didn’t; I have far more important things to worry about this morning.” As harassed as he sounded, Dumbledore couldn’t hide the twinkle in his eyes when he glanced at the man. “Really, Severus; do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

Severus gaped like a fish for a moment before drawing himself up and pulling himself together. “What do you require of me?” he put forth in an offended voice.

Good. He’d concentrate better offended than randy or regretful. He took a deep, deep breath. “They’ve called Lupin up.”

“Bloody, buggering BLAST them,” the Potions Master growled. The Headmaster sighed, but knew he could not force the other man to approve. “I don’t like it, Albus. I don’t like it one bit. I did tell you I had reservations — ”

“Please don’t question my decision,” Albus responded gently, and Snape swallowed his protestations. “I understand your concerns. I have concerns of my own, and ‘I’ trust myself.”

“I trust you, as well,” Severus murmured immediately. “It is just...rare that I cannot anticipate what a certain action’s consequences will be — no; it is rare that I must assent to taking actions whose consequences I am convinced will not be good. There is a plot afoot — you know this. My misgivings grow minute by minute.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “Luckily for us all, I do not require your wholehearted blessing, but merely your cooperation.” He winked at the man.

Severus groaned. “And what is necessary of me?” he inquired.

“As Lupin will be otherwise occupied, I shall need to divide his other duties between yourself and Kingsley. And, of course, since he cannot contact us in his current position, I would ask that you make an effort to keep an eye on him.” The Headmaster took an extreme risk by patting the Potions Master on the shoulder, after having seen the downcast look on the man’s face. “It does you credit that you worry about him. That you worry about either of them,” he added quickly, heading the half-truth off at the pass.

Severus grunted. He had intended to tell the man he was worried about Harry, not Lupin, but as always the man got there ahead of him. “I did not like him...” he admitted, echoing Harry’s earlier words, “when we were at school. But, however little I like a man, I should not choose to see him sell his soul.”

“I know, Severus,” Albus whispered comfortingly. “This is because you are a good man, albeit one who hides behind a rancorous mask. I’m afraid Remus’s soul is his own to sell, and I admit that the thought sickens me, as well. All we can do is trust, Severus. In ourselves, in the greater good, and in one another.”

Severus sighed deeply. “You make it sound like thoughts and emotions are important,” he complained. “As though they are worth the same as an action taken, when we both know they are not.”

Dumbledore smiled. “But they are, Severus. They are far more important, in fact, for without thought, and especially emotion, what use would action be? Action would have no worth; not even to ourselves.” He smiled more widely at Severus’s irritated scowl. “Take your boy, for instance. You say you took no ‘action’ regarding him last night, and yet you are sated in a way that I have never seen you.”

Severus felt his face begin to go red again, and thought resentfully of Harry. Blushing was supposed to be HIS mannerism, not the spy’s. A spy certainly could not afford to glow maroon whenever the subject of his affections arose. “I really would appreciate a change of topic.”

The Headmaster shook his head. “With as much on your mind as the boy is, I should think the opportunity to discuss your feelings would be welcome.”

“The notion of being desirous of ‘discussing my feelings,’ on this particular is ludicrous. I should be happier not to have any to discuss.”

Dumbledore tisked. “I understand how long and hard you have clung to the notion that you are not worthy of love. If you cannot alter your opinion of the matter, then fine — but if this is the case, I beg you to ask who is really worthy of love. Sirius Black? You hated the man, and claimed once you would have been happy to watch him slowly devoured by ravenous, flesh- eating butterflies. But he was loved, was he not? By Harry, by Remus, by James?”

“I did NOT say flesh-eating butterflies, I did NOT! I said cockroaches, damn you. You always misquote me when you’re trying to make a point. It isn’t funny. And I don’t want to talk about love, nor have anything to do with it, is that understood?” The man had his arms crossed and his teeth clenched, and looked downright infuriated.

“Insects, then,” Albus granted with a wave of his hand. “The point I was trying to make is that you really ought to lower your guard a little, as far as Harry is concerned. I worry, that as he has been deprived of affection for so long, you will find it difficult to content him, unless you wholly give yourself over to the task. Loving is not so very complex, Severus. All you need do is yield to it.”

“I refuse to go gentle into that good night,” the Potions Master replied tersely.

Dumbledore sighed. “It is sad that you are more afraid of love than death,” he remarked. “No, no; rage against it if you must. I only ask that you keep in mind that you will break the boy’s heart by doing so.”

Severus glared. “I do wish you would stop acting as though there is nothing wrong with my having an intimate relationship with Harry Potter. You are supposed to protect and discipline those under you. You are supposed to be the Headmaster of this school. For God’s sake, why don’t you act like it?”

“I am, I assure you,” the man responded tranquilly.

“Albus. I am in grave danger already. You do not seem to realize that by encouraging this — this — whatever it is, you are raising the stakes so much higher.”

Albus gave him a bland smile, looking out from behind those half-moon spectacles. “You need each other, Severus. And stop trying to convince me that you’re primary objection to this is because of the danger to yourself.”

“You’re absolutely right!” Snape burst out. “I don’t give a damn what happens to me! But if you think that for one moment I am going to allow my own libido to endanger that boy — ”

“Severus, Severus, Severus, calm DOWN,” the Headmaster ordered, waving his hands placatingly. “See here; I cannot begin to explain to you why this is what is best for you, since you have absolutely no interest in whether or not it actually IS what’s best for you, but I might just be able to outline why this is what is best for Harry.” He settled himself more comfortably in his chair and looked pensive for a few moments.

“All right,” Dumbledore assented. “Just a few points to keep in mind before you go. Harry is an adolescent boy with raging hormones, a world to save and what amounts to a great, glaring bulls-eye painted on his chest.

“To address your concerns: you are, indeed, somewhat older than Mister Potter. You are not a child — unlike Harry’s classmates and other potential beaus. Even the shrewdest of them would not fully understand what they might be getting themselves into by dating Harry Potter.

“You are a Death Eater AND a spy, and one of only two that I have sanctioned. We KNOW what side you are on. Can you say the same for Zabini? Can you say any of the other boys Harry’s age might not, in their youthful ambition and naïveté, be seduced to join Voldemort’s ranks? Harry is gullible, Severus. Boys his age often are. How is he to know a potential Death Eater from a potential ally?

“Additionally, BEING a Death Eater and a spy certainly gives you an inside perspective as to how much danger the boy is in, at any given time. You would be in the unique position of having advance knowledge of plots against Mister Potter’s person, and also of being able to persuade the often stubborn boy of the correct course of action in response. It is far easier to acquiesce with a lover’s wishes than an enemy’s. But even were you no longer a Death Eater, and no longer a spy, surely your service as such would have given you the opportunity to use the skills needed to keep yourself and your loved ones alive in such dark and troubled times as we are now experiencing. Can it be that you’d forgotten that is what drew Harry to you in the first place? You have said yourself that nothing could induce you to betray him. You are not at all his weakness, but his strength. It is a strength he will need desperately as the situation intensifies.

“And last, but to Mister Potter’s poor heart, doubtlessly not least, you are already a target of Voldemort. There is nothing Harry can do to make you more so, if Voldemort ever becomes aware of what you have already done. Harry would not survive the guilt, should some complete innocent he involved himself with become a casualty of the crossfire. He has enough guilt, Severus. You are the only one in a position to alleviate it. You are the only one who understands. DO you understand?”

Severus understood that he was asking more than whether he was on familiar terms with guilt. “I don’t know, Albus, I really don’t,” he sighed. “It is very easy for you to hand me honeyed arguments, but I have in my heart my own judgment of right and wrong. I still believe that Harry would be better off...well, perhaps not without me completely; I do like to think I perform some small amount of service, but...waiting until he is older, at least. He has so little innocence left, Albus. I cannot accept taking the rest myself.” He hung his head. “I...am not capable of pushing the boy away. He is too much within my walls of resistance already. But I will not feed him sugared lies. I will not promise him happiness, only to see it torn from him. And I refuse to open his soul by bearing my own, and letting Voldemort’s filth taint his, as well.”

Albus shook his head sadly. “Your soul is not corrupted, Severus. You have sacrificed so much, given and striven so readily. You have done everything in your power to redeem yourself, to relinquish more than you have taken. You are clean, my dear boy. Forgive yourself, so you may give Harry what he needs.”

Snape looked away. “What will we do on Thursday?” he asked, changing the subject.

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When Snape retired to his chambers that night, he found Harry waiting there. He had a difficult time vacillating between gratification and annoyance. “I told you to LEAVE,” he growled.

“But I DID leave,” Harry protested. “I just came back, is all, after classes were over. Anyway, I thought you might have something you wanted to tell me.”

“I do NOT have anything whatever to say to you. And I recall SPECIFICALLY telling you what would happen if you were not gone when I returned.” He gave the boy his patented glare-of-carnage.

“Actually, you didn’t go into specifics. Erm. You did decide against a spanking, didn’t you? Only I kind of fell of my broom at Quidditch practice, and had a harder landing than I would have liked so...please don’t spank me.” He tried not to look too hopeful. And prayed reverse psychology had even a slim chance on Severus Snape. “Because that would be really awful, if you spanked me now. So, please don’t do that. Anything but that.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “In other words, ‘Please don’t throw me in the briar patch, Brer Fox, ANYTHING but the briar patch.’ Very clever, Mister Potter. You do realize that I have more important issues on my mind than your rampant teenage hormones?”

“That’s why I’m here, then; to take your mind off them.” Severus was surprised when Harry handed him a glass of scotch that had been ready and waiting, and gestured for him to sit down. He did, and was further taken aback when Harry went round behind him and clever young hands were applied to releasing the tension in his neck and shoulders. “You’re awfully uptight, Sev,” the boy commented, making him grit his teeth.

“Do NOT call me that, you presumptuous wretch,” he growled, though the edge was taken off by the warming scotch and dexterous fingers.

“We DID sleep together, you know. Do you still want to retain that level of distance? What would you have me call you? Professor? Sir? Master?” His voice dropped lower and huskier, word by word, and he breathed the last one in the man’s ear. “You are, after all, the Potions Master.” Harry went around the chair again and with a slinky move, crawled into the man’s lap. “Do you want the respect you’ve earned?” he asked, still using what Severus could only call a bedroom voice.

“Stop that,” he ordered. He wasn’t sure whether to be appalled or entertained. “You must be spoiled beyond repair, to think you can get away with that sort of talk.”

Harry unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on the man’s robes. “I’m not going to get away with it, huh? And just how do you propose to stop me?”

Severus could think of quite a few ways of doing so, in actuality, from tossing him out on his arse to simply saying he didn’t find the boy attractive enough, to any number of spells and incantations. But he felt it would be better for Harry to change his own mind, rather than having to hurt the boy or his feelings. “Perhaps I won’t stop you,” he told Harry in a voice so low as to reach beyond human sound and touch qualities of vibration. He was pleased to see the boy shudder. “Perhaps I’ll merely punish you. Perhaps I’ll tie you to my bed and whip you raw and then, when you’re exhausted and bleeding, I’ll take you and pound you into the mattress, and then — ” he thought he was really doing well when Harry shuddered again, harder this time, and assumed the boy had to be frightened, overwhelmed, but; this was Potter, the brave little brat.

“Wow,” he breathed, looking up at Severus through steamed-up glasses. Then he smiled brilliantly. “Would you really tie me to your bed?”

“Did you hear a word I said after that?”

“I think I got stuck on the tied-to-the-bed bit, but I did perk back up when you mentioned pounding me through the mattress,” Harry offered unabashedly.

Severus shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are utterly HOPELESS,” he remarked in a defeated voice.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” Harry added happily.

Severus managed a smile and kissed the boy gently on the lips. Several kisses later he asked, “How was your day?” It was odd, that. It seemed so cliché, but it happened so naturally — he really was curious about Harry’s activities.

The boy looked sad. “Everyone knows about Draco, now. Half the Slytherins believe I had something to do with it, but Blaise and Jack told them off. I mean; REALLY told them off. I think Draco was something of a leader in the house, a trend setter and all that. People looked up to him, listened to him. They seem to be kind of lost without him.” Severus felt a pang of guilt. His house. They would need him, now. Especially the innocent ones, however few there were. “And it seems like Blaise, of all people, is stepping in to fill his shoes — with Jack’s support,” Harry went on. “Pansy resisted pretty well for a while; think she wanted the post for herself, but the rest of them are listening to Blaise, so even she caved eventually. I think they see him as ‘The Boy Who Conquered The Boy Who Lived,’ and they really admire that. I don’t get why he stood up for me, though. Why are all Slytherins so fucking complicated? He tells me off in front of the whole school one day, and then he stands up for me in front of the whole school the next. I just don’t understand him. And what did he say to you yesterday?”

“Nothing,” Severus responded immediately. He had never told Harry about Blaise’s earlier betrayal, and didn’t think he ever would. It would only hurt Harry. And as for Blaise...it was very odd, when the boy had approached him, tears glistening in his eyes, and muttered, ‘I guess the best men won.’ He didn’t need the boy hanging some noble sacrifice over his head. “I am entirely sick of hearing about Blaise Zabini,” he announced suddenly. “And if you plan on sharing my bed, you will oblige me by not discussing ex-partners. Is that understood?” He gripped Harry’s chin roughly, and stared piercingly into those green pools of light.

“Er. Absolutely,” Harry said. He was mesmerized, and not a little turned on. Firm Severus, jealous Severus, demanding Severus — all nearly too sexy to deal with. “I’m sorry. If I’d known you were jealous — ”

“I am most certainly NOT!”

“Oh, yes you are. It’s very cute.”

“It is NOT!”

“Oh, shut up, Sev.”

Severus actually looked like he might smile for a moment, before leaning over and kissing the boy again. Harry kissed back warmly, wrapping his arms around the man. “Let’s go to bed,” the Potions Master said. “But once again, I must reiterate my refusal to participate in sexual activities this early in the relationship.”

“All right,” Harry agreed unexpectedly. He got up from the man’s lap, but then immediately demanded to be carried to the bedroom.

“Sick, child, very sick,” Severus chided, although he did as asked, lifting the boy gently, and trying to ignore his body’s response to Harry wrapping his legs around the man’s waist. “Not to mention you’ve probably tripled the chances of throwing my back out.”

“Madam Pomfrey can fix that,” Harry responded dismissively. He leaned his head on the man’s shoulder. “And it makes me feel safe. I love knowing you’re strong enough to carry me. To protect me. I love you, Severus.”

“I do wish you’d stop SAYING that,” Snape responded plaintively.

“It’s only natural,” Harry protested.

“It’s only completely terrifying,” Severus shot back.

Harry chuckled a little. “Someday you’ll say it back.”

“I shouldn’t hold my breath, Mister Potter.”

“I could live without air, Severus. I could live without food or drink if I had to. The only thing I could never live without is you.”

Severus was silent a long time, setting the boy on the bed, changing, crawling in beside him, wrapping him in his arms. “Overly sentimental prat,” he whispered. Harry just grinned and hummed in agreement, and for the second night in a row they fell asleep in one another’s arms.