Small Comfort (end) by:Eriador117

Author: Eriador117
Website:http://eriador117.insanejournal.com
Email:annette.gisby@which.net
Permission：
Yes, you can have permission to repost the stories on your board if you want. :)

take care,
Annette
(Eriador117)



Summary: Harry Potter has a few things to come to terms with, can Snape help him deal with them? Warnings: angst, child abuse, non-con, violence. Teacher/student relationship. Disclaimer: All are JK Rowling's, I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Characters: Harry, Severus, Harry/Severus
Genres: Angst/Tragedy, Romance, Drama, Mystery/Suspense, Alternate Universe, Horror/Supernatural
Rating: M+
Warnings: Violence, Adult Language, Sexual Situations, Chan, Non-con (rape), Character Death, OOC-ness




Prologue: Small Spaces

Harry has never told anyone of the terror he feels every time he rides a broomstick on the Quidditch pitch. He’s not afraid of flying, nor even of falling.

He’s afraid of all that open space above and below him.

Out here, out in the world, he doesn’t fit.

Harry doesn’t fit.

All they see is The Boy Who Lived.

They’ve given him space to grow up, but he doesn’t want it.

He isn’t used to all the space. Sometimes he misses his cupboard. He fitted in there.

Every night he closes the curtains round his bed, wanting to feel enclosed. But it isn’t the same as his cupboard. He can stretch out, there is no wall to scrape his hands against and he needs it, needs that solidity.

Sometimes he dreams that Voldemort has buried him alive, Harry lying in the dark hearing the earth thud against the wood of his coffin.

Sometimes when he wakes up, he wishes it was true.

Chapter One

The brat went missing three weeks into the first term of his sixth year. The headmaster had already set the wards to alert them if Harry left the grounds, worried that the Potter brat might do something stupid in his grief over that mutt, Black. Something stupid like go after those Death Eaters who had somehow managed to wangle their way out of Azkaban yet again. Or even do some harm to himself.

Snape thought the first option was a lot more likely than the second. Potter just didn't seem the type to do himself in, but then could you ever be sure? For the wards hadn't been breached so they knew that Potter had to be somewhere in the castle. The question was where?

He was currently in the headmaster's office along with Minerva McGonagall, Granger and Weasley trying to determine just that.

"We've searched everywhere we can think of, Professor," said Granger.

"Where exactly have you searched, Miss Granger?" asked Snape, waving away the tea the headmaster tried to ply him with. Tea wouldn't help them find Potter any faster.

"The Astronomy tower, the Owlery, Hagrid's, the Forbidden Forest, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom..." Here, Granger paused and gave a strange look to Weasley. Snape had no time to analyse it.

"Well?" he snapped.

"The prefects' bathroom, sir," said Weasley, his ears going as red as his hair.

"Potter is not a prefect, what would he be doing in there?" demanded Snape. "Who gave him the password?"

"Not me," said Weasley, although Snape didn't trust that. The two were best friends, who else could have given him the password? He knew that Miss Granger's sense of duty would not have allowed her to divulge it, even if she was friends with Potter.

"We don't know where he's gone, sir," said Granger softly.

"He's been missing for less than a day, he can't have gone far!" exclaimed Minerva, hands fluttering about her like birds unable to find a roost for the night.

"Have you no idea at all, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore, stirring his tea, although he made no move to drink it.

"None, I'm afraid Headmaster."

"Severus? Any inkling from your Occlumency lessons where Harry might go if he was upset?"

"No headmaster, he has been successful in blocking me during our lessons. I have no great insight into his mind, and neither it seems does anyone else here. If that will be all, headmaster? I have lessons to prepare for tomorrow."

"Yes, yes, of course, Severus, thank you," said Dumbledore and walked Snape to the door.

"I'm really worried about him, Severus. His state of mind after his godfather's death was not - ideal."

Snape held back a snort. To put it mildly, Potter had slowly been turning into a basket case, surely he wasn't the only one to notice the mood swings, the distance the boy was putting between himself and his friends? Potter had been losing it long before Black's death, but whatever demons he'd been dealing with before would now be exacerbated by his grief.

***
Snape marched down to his dungeons, deep in thought. He had his suspicions but hadn't voiced them in the office in case he was wrong. They'd looked everywhere they expected the boy to be, so wouldn't it make sense that the contrary creature would be somewhere unexpected? And what place would be the last place they'd ever think of looking? In the dungeons. They wouldn't think he would go anywhere near his hated Potions professor, and truth be told, Snape thought the same. It was worth a try though since they had searched the castle and its confines everywhere else.

He pushed the door to his office open with a loud smack of wood against stone. The room seemed empty, but there was a small shimmer in his wards as though someone had passed through recently. But how could the boy have got past them without the alarms going off? They were deliberately set to ward against students unless it was an emergency. Would his wards sense Potter's grief as an emergency? Maybe.

Snape set to looking in every nook and cranny, under the tables, behind curtains, but Potter was nowhere to be seen. It was as he was about to leave he heard a muffled sob coming from one of his empty store cupboards. Previously empty store cupboards. How on earth had Potter fitted himself in there? The cupboard was small, only about half of Snape's height and not much broader than his chest.

He yanked the door open and felt his heart fall to somewhere near his shoes. The boy looked so small and defeated, hunched up on himself, his head resting on his knees as he wept as though his heart was breaking. The grief coming from the boy was so raw that Snape felt it almost as a physical entity.

Snape decided there and then that the boy didn't need nor want sympathy, if that was what he was after, he would have been crying on one of his friend's shoulders, not hiding down in the dungeons, in the office of his most hated teacher.

"Potter!" barked Snape. "Come out of there at once!"

Harry's head jerked up, slivery tears running down his cheeks. "I - I can't," he sobbed, lowering his head to his knees again, his knuckles clenching his knees so tight that Snape could almost see the boy's bones through his skin.

"What do you mean you can't? Are you stuck?" Snape wouldn't have been at all surprised if that was the case, the contortions Harry must have gone through to fit in the cupboard in the first place boggled the mind.

"N - n - no, sir, I just can't come out."

"Might I ask why?"

"It's too big," gasped Harry. "Out there." He waved a hand at the room outside the confines of his cupboard.

Snape gaped at him, not quite believing what he was hearing. Harry was suffering from some sort of agoraphobia? Since Black's death or before that? How come no-one had noticed it before? His friends, the teachers? Snape realised he would have to add himself to the list of those who hadn't picked up on it. This was worse than he thought.

"I'm sorry, sir. I just can't come out."

***

Harry couldn't look at his professor as he said the words, he couldn't bear to see the horrified look on the man's face. To know that their saviour, the Boy Who Lived, was too scared to come out of a cupboard. Their hopes for the war dashed in an instant. How could Harry save anything if he couldn't even have the courage to go outside on his own?

"Nonsense, Potter. You can't spend the rest of the school year sitting in a cupboard. This has gone on long enough."

Harry shook his head, unable to answer. Why did no-one understand the dread of all that open space out there? Harry was too small, he'd get lost in it and they would never find him again. He didn't want to be lost, he wanted to belong, but he knew it was impossible. He didn't belong. He was wrong. He'd always been wrong.

Suddenly, Harry felt arms other than his own inside the cupboard, his haven, and he screamed and kicked, trying to dislodge them. Snape was too agile and managed to dodge Harry easily. Snape scooped Harry up by the legs and lifted him out of the cupboard. Harry flailed like a man drowning, sobbing and screaming. "Put me back! Put me back! Oh, please, sir, please! Put me back!" Harry pummelled the chest of the man holding him, Snape's breath hitched and he glared hard at Harry.

"Stop this foolishness at once, Potter!" Snape commanded. "Or you'll be in detention for a month!"

Harry wriggled and squirmed, trying to get out of the man's grasp, before he knew, before he saw, before he felt. But Snape was too strong and Harry could not get out of the arms holding him. "Please, sir, put me down, put me down," begged Harry, his face flushed with shame.

Snape relented and placed Harry back on his feet, his touch more gentle than Harry had ever associated with the man.

Harry tried to seek out the shelter of the cupboard again, but Snape was ready for his attempt. There was a tug, a tussle and somehow they both ended up on the floor, Snape's body pinning Harry to the floor. No. No. No.

"Get off me!" Harry cried, trying to shift the weight of the man above him with his arms, but it was like trying to move a mountain. He tried to punch Snape's face, but his glasses were askew from the fall and his aim was a little off. Snape grabbed both of Harry's hands and pinned them high above his head with his so much larger, so much stronger hands. "Let me up!"

"Not until you've calmed down," said Snape in a soft voice that scared Harry even more than any of his insults ever did.

"I hate you! I hate you!" screamed Harry, arching his body to try and dislodge Snape from on top of him. But that only made the situation worse.

"Desist at once, Mr. Potter!" snarled Snape, then he looked straight at Harry's face, a gasp of surprise. "Harry - what...?"

And Harry knew that the man had felt it. The man knew of Harry's shame. His wrongness. His unnaturalness.

Harry saw his chance, he was finally able to push his professor off him and he ran to the wall, sinking down to lean sideways against it, his knees drawn tight against his chest. It was almost the exact same position he had been in the cupboard and he so much wanted to go back there.

Harry waited for the lecture, of how bad he was, how awful he was, but it didn't come. "Harry, it's all right."

"It's not," sobbed Harry. "I got aroused, I got an erection with you on top of me. It's wrong."

"It wasn't wrong, Harry. It's just hormones and adrenaline, it was just a natural reaction after all the emotional upheaval you've been through today. There's no need to be embarrassed. It happens a lot at your age."

"I don't want it to! I just wish it would go away!" Harry rocked himself, his hands clasped around his waist, trying desperately to ignore the urges of his body. Snape had felt so good above him, pressure in all the right places and Harry was appalled at himself. Snape was a man, it was wrong. It was so wrong.

"Well sometimes it doesn't go away unless you do something to help it along," said Snape, sounding for all the world as if he was just giving a Potions lecture.

"N- no, I can't do that. I'm not allowed," Harry whispered to his knees.

"Not allowed? Who told you that?"

"M - m - my uncle," replied Harry.

There was a rustle of cloth as Snape knelt down on the floor, his face almost level with Harry's. "Harry? What did he do? The man's a Muggle, isn't he? What did he do to you?"

"It was so awful," said Harry, trying his best not to cry again. "But he was right to do it. What I was doing was so bad, I was wrong. I deserved to be punished."

"Harry," said Snape sternly. "What did that man do to you?"

"It happened over the summer," said Harry slowly, wondering why on earth he was sharing his shame with the man beside him. "I missed Sirius so much, I could hardly eat, I could hardly sleep. I cried and cried and nothing seemed to help. I went for a walk one day to the park, just to clear my head and - and - I saw two boys - they were kissing. I felt alive for the first time in weeks. They both had their shirts off and they were beautiful. It got me excited, so I ran almost all the way back to Privet Drive.

"My aunt Petunia has lots of catalogues, you know with Muggle clothes and things? I found one and took it to my room, looking at the pages of the swimsuit models. I was - I was touching myself when Vernon came into my room and caught me." Harry flushed with remembered shame and horror, at his uncle's loud angry bellows, words like "filthy", "shameful", "dirty", "unnatural", "pervert" and "wrong" dripping like poison from his uncle's lips.

"When Vernon saw the pictures I'd been looking at, he was even more horrified. He tied my wrists to the headboard and then -" Harry's breath hitched as he remembered the pain, agony that closely resembled the Cruciatus curse. "And then he bent my fingers so far back that the bones snapped, one by one. Said if my hands were broken I wouldn't be able to do that anymore. He wasn't going to have such an abomination going on under his roof. But he was right, I shouldn't have been looking at the pictures," said Harry, almost trying to convince himself as well as Snape.

"He did what?" roared Snape. "He broke your hands?" Snape reached out and grabbed Harry's hands as if to see the damage for himself, but Harry's hands were already healed. He'd gone to Madam Pomfrey as soon as he'd arrived at school, for once she never asked any questions as to where or how he got his injuries. "That man is a cruel sadistic bastard. There's nothing wrong with touching yourself to feel pleasure, Harry. No matter what the man said or did to you."

Harry shook his head, denying his professor's words, for how could they be true?

"But the pictures," protested Harry.

Snape laughed a little. "Harry, do you really think you are the only boy ever to use a little visual stimulation to help things along? So, you looked at a few pictures of women in swimsuits to get off, you're not the only one I'm sure."

Harry shook his head. "No, sir, you don't understand. I wasn't looking at the women in swimsuits. I - I was looking at the men."

TBC



Chapter Two

Snape just stared hard at Harry, the words sinking in as Harry revealed what he thought to be his terrible secret and Snape did not know what to say to make him feel better. Because as much as Snape wanted to contradict what the Muggle had told Harry, he couldn't. For in the wizarding world, it was considered wrong, not to mention immoral and illegal for people of the same sex to like each other. They were all expected to settle down with a nice little witch and raise lots of pure-blood babies. And they wondered how people like Voldemort gained power? With all his talk of bloodlines and purity. Snape would not have lasted as long as he had in Voldemort's circle if the Dark Lord knew of the Potions master's tastes.

Not that Snape agreed with the Ministry on it, not considering his own preferences, but even just to talk to Harry about this could land him in Azkaban. Cornelius Fudge was a bigoted idiot, but he was the one who enforced the laws and if any word of this conversation somehow got back to him...

"Harry, I don't know what to tell you. I wish I could make you feel better about this, but I can't. In the Muggle world, it used to be illegal, but here, it still is illegal to engage in any homosexual acts. That is not to say that the law is just or fair in this matter, but it is the law."

Harry paled. "I - I could go to Azkaban?" he asked, horrified, picking at invisible lint on his robe.

Snape found himself in the strangest position of wanting to comfort the boy. He, who'd never shown anyone an ounce of compassion in his life, wanted to comfort Harry Potter.

"Not for being gay, but if you acted on those feelings, then yes, I'm afraid you might."

"Please, sir, please don't tell anyone!"

"I have no intention of doing so, Harry. And I don't think you should tell anyone either. Some people are tolerant and it wouldn't bother them, but there are others who would use this against you and feel no qualms about reporting it to the Magic Law Enforcement office." Harry's stomach growled, echoing in the silent room. "When was the last time you've eaten?"

"Not since breakfast," admitted Harry.

"It's almost time for dinner," said Snape, standing up and dusting down his robe. "Do you feel up to going to the Hall or I can have a house elf send something to your dorm? Everyone's been so worried about you, Harry."

"I'll go to the Hall," said Harry, standing up and heading to the door. "Then they'll see I'm all right."

Snape doubted the boy was all right, but he nodded at Harry.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Harry, turning with his hand on the door.

"For what?" asked Snape, but Harry just disappeared into the corridor.

***

Harry took a deep breath as he waited in the Quidditch changing rooms. He was feeling light headed and a bit sick. He'd already thrown up twice after lunch today and worried that he was going to have to make another mad dash to the bathroom. He didn't want to go out there. He didn't want to be flying around in all that space. All those crowds. His whole body was shaking as he tried to calm himself down.

Maybe it would have been better if Dumbledore had not convinced the Ministry to lift his lifetime ban after all.

"Who are we playing?" he asked Ron, he'd been so nervous he hadn't even looked at the schedules yet. Quidditch was low down on his list of priorities this year, below surviving Voldemort and not making a fool of himself. He tried to undo the collar of his shirt to try and get some air, but he was wearing his round necked jumper, part of his Quidditch uniform and he felt almost as though he was choking.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

"Honestly, Harry, you've been out of it all week. It's Slytherin."

Slytherin. That meant underhanded tactics from Malfoy, bludgers sent his way deliberately and Snape. It also meant Snape. Snape would be there and Harry found himself not feeling so scared knowing that the Potions master would be watching the match.

For ever since Harry had hidden in the man's store cupboard, Harry associated Snape with safety. He had so few things that made him feel safe anymore.

"Did you hear about Blaise Zabini?" asked Ron with relish. "Haven't you wondered why he wasn't at school this term?"

No, Harry hadn't. He had never even noticed that the dark haired Slytherin was no longer at school, if the truth was known. Harry shook his head.

"He's been sent to St. Mungo's," said Ron.

"What for? Is he ill?" asked Harry, the conversation distracting him at least from his own fears.

"No, he's in the closed ward. For psychiatric evaluation. His one of those, you know," grinned Ron. "His parents caught him over the summer with another boy."

"What?" asked Harry, but his voice sounded a long way off from his head. His own parents reported him? "He wasn't sent to Azkaban?"

"Oh, no, it's only if you're over seventeen you would go to prison for it. If you're younger, they think you're ill and you get sent to St. Mungo's for a while until they think they've cured you. He'll be out in a few weeks and as long as he settles down with a girlfriend soon, no more will be said about it."

Harry was horrified. Ron was talking about what had happened to Blaise as something so normal, something accepted. To be locked up because of how you acted on your feelings for someone?

"And do you think that's right, Ron?" Harry's fists clenched on his broomstick. If Harry told anyone about himself, would he suddenly be in St. Mungo's because they thought he was ill?

"Of course it's right! He was doing something illegal, he's just lucky he wasn't older when they caught him. He'll be fine Harry. The St. Mungo's healers will cure him. Don't worry about it. It's like a disease."

"What is?"

"Being queer. It's an illness."

Harry was too shocked to reply.

As the made their way onto the pitch, Harry realised that no matter how long he had known Ron, he had never really known his friend at all.

***

Harry couldn't sleep, Ron's words about Blaise were imprinted on his mind as he tossed and turned on the bed, trying to get comfortable. The Gryffindor common room had been awash with rumours about Blaise and Ron eagerly told them all he knew. Hermione was the only one to comment that being gay in the Muggle world was perfectly acceptable these days, but the silence that followed her pronouncement was absolute and no-one agreed with her.

Harry couldn't tell anyone. He'd be an outcast, or sent to St. Mungo's like Blaise. What was he going to do?

Sighing, Harry took his pillow and blankets off the bed and put them underneath it on the floor. He lay down, staring at the bottom of the bed. He hadn't needed to do this for a while, but he needed to feel enclosed, everything was just getting to him too much. It wasn't as sheltered as a cupboard, it was open on both sides, but he felt a lot more secure being under the bed than being on it and soon he drifted off to sleep.

He was dragged uncomfortably out of slumber by Ron's panicked shouts. "Oh, no! Harry's gone missing again, McGonagall's gonna kill us!"

"I'm here, Ron," said Harry, groaning and sliding out from under his bed. Ron and the rest of his dorm mates just gaped at him. He tried to will away the blush, for he knew nothing he could say would adequately explain why he preferred to sleep on the floor than in his bed. None of them would understand. No-one would.

Ron stared at the pillow and blankets peeking out at the side of the bed, but he didn't ask about them and neither did anyone else. Harry wondered if they'd all received a talking to by Professor McGonagall or Dumbledore on how to treat him, or to ignore the fact that the Boy Who Lived was becoming more and more like the Boy Who Was Going Insane as the days passed.

"See you at breakfast," said Ron and left, quickly followed by Seamus, Dean and Neville.

Harry sank to his knees on the floor and bawled his eyes out.

***

Snape's lip curled as he snarled the password to the headmaster's office, "Revels", and was not in a good mood when he reached the top of the spiral staircase. The office door was already open, Dumbledore already had tea and biscuits set out on his desk. Snape refused them.

"You wanted to see me, Albus?" he asked without preamble.

"Yes, Severus. I wanted to discuss young Harry."

Snape remained blank. He had never told anyone what Harry spoke to him about that day and he had no intention of starting now.

"Potter? What's he done now?"

"Nothing, as far as I'm aware," said Dumbledore. "But as I told you, I am worried about his mental state. I was wondering if you might have a word with him?"

"Me? Why makes you think the brat would trust me?"

"I don't think he does, Severus. If you talk to him, it would be in an official capacity."

"I hardly think my career as a Potions master or spy is relevant, Albus."

"No, I was talking of your PhD in Muggle Psychology."

"What?" spluttered Snape. "How did you know about that?" Snape had always been fascinated by the mind and how it worked, and when he found out about something called the Open University, he had taken a Bachelor of Science and then did his PhD on psychology, all without ever having to leave Hogwarts. He had told no-one of his research or when he received his degree and doctorate.

"I have my ways," said Dumbledore, tapping his nose, his eyes twinkling. "So will you do it, talk to Harry?"

"You want me to treat him as a patient?"

"Only if Harry agrees to it."

"Albus, if he does agree and I go ahead with this foolishness, I warn you now. Whatever Harry will tell me in those sessions will be strictly confidential, I cannot even tell you. I will not reveal anything he tells me."

"Nor would I wish to know, Severus. Harry needs to know that he can talk about anything without there being any... repercussions."

Snape nodded his head, agreeing, and wondering if Harry would. As Snape left the office, he wondered about the headmaster's parting line. What repercussions? Did Albus know that Harry was gay?

Snape sincerely hoped not.

Chapter Three

Harry Potter was discussed at every staff meeting over the following weeks. His grades were slipping in everything except Potions, which was a surprise to them all, even Snape. Harry was becoming more and more withdrawn. Snape noticed that at meals, the boy would sit on his own, not talking nor even looking at any of the other Gryffindors at the table.

Dumbledore never brought up his suggestion of therapy at any of the meetings, but every so often he would catch Snape's eye and arch an eyebrow in question. Snape shook his head. Harry hadn't sought him out and he had decided that the only way to do it properly would be if Harry asked for the help. Harry had to want to do it.

It was Friday afternoon, which meant the sixth years had double Potions for their advanced classes. The class was small as Snape only allowed those students who'd received an Outstanding on their OWL paper and it was easy enough to keep an eye on them all.

Harry stood out like an oak in a forest of beech. He didn't have a lab partner, no-one would sit beside him, but he hardly seemed to notice, chopping his ingredients and stirring his potion with the air of one resigned to his fate. He didn't have bags under his eyes, he had a whole set of luggage and Snape wondered how little sleep the boy had been getting. His skin was getting almost as sallow as Snape's, where were the rosy cheeks of last term? The quiet boy in the room was so different from the angry young man of last year.

Snape didn't believe for a minute that it was only Black's death that had been affecting Harry, but he guessed it was a catalyst to Harry's current problems.

Snape wandered the room, checking the progress of each student, correcting those who needed it, ignoring those who were doing well. There would be no mollycoddling in his classes.

"Potter, see me after class," said Snape as he passed by Harry's worktable. Harry looked up, green eyes wide behind his glasses. He looked like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights of a car. "Sir?"

"Even you should be able to understand plain English, Potter. See me after class."

Snape stalked to the front of the classroom and sat down behind his desk. Malfoy was giving him a speculative look. Probably wondering why Snape hadn't removed any points or handed out any detentions during the whole lesson.

When the bell rang, the rest of the class disappeared, leaving Malfoy and Harry behind. Harry ignored the blonde boy, bottling his potion and putting his table to rights before walking to stand by Snape's desk.

"Mr. Malfoy, I do not remember requiring your presence today."

"I know sir. I just wanted to ask you something about the course..."

"You are perfectly aware of when my office is open to Slytherin students, Mr. Malfoy. I suggest you leave any discussions until then. You are dismissed and do not disobey me again." The boy quailed under the weight of Snape's glower and hurried out of the room.

"Take a seat, Potter," Snape indicated the wooden chair to the side of his desk. Harry sank into it as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and Snape tried not to laugh. Harry did have the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders and it looked like finally it had become too much.

"Has Professor Dumbledore spoken to you?" he asked the boy.

"About therapy with you? Yes, he told me."

"And what do you think about it? Do you think it's a good idea?"

"I honestly don't know, sir. You're my teacher. I don't know if I would be comfortable talking to you about all the things that are in my head. It would be really weird."

"I see. Yes, it would be difficult if you couldn't trust your therapist." And why did that thought upset him so much? That Harry didn't trust him? "I understand."

"It's not about trusting you," replied Harry. "I don't know if I can talk to anyone about this. Some things are just so personal, you know? They can be hard to talk about, I don't know if I can."

"I won't lie to you, Potter, and say that therapy would be an easy course. You will be forced to face up to things, things that may have been hidden for years. It will be very emotional for you and not everyone can cope with it. But if it might help you, isn't it worth a try? You've not been yourself lately, have you?"

"No," said Harry and then gave him a lopsided grin. "Are you trying to psychoanalyse me already? I haven't said I'll do this yet."

"Yet?" queried Snape.

"I'll think about it," said Harry. "I'm not promising anything, but I might do it. Maybe."

"That's all I can ask, Potter. It has to be your decision. It won't work if you feel you were forced into it."

Harry laughed bitterly. "That makes a change."

"What does?"

"That I'm allowed to choose."

***

It was two weeks later when Harry made his choice. Most of the student body were in Hogsmeade, ably chaperoned by Professor McGonagall and Madam Sprout. Snape was rostered for the next outing, so he was catching up on some marking in his office when there was a rap on the door.

"Mr. Potter?" he asked as soon as he opened the door. "Not with your little friends in Hogsmeade today?" He realised as he said it that it was a stupid thing to say, not after what he knew of Potter's fears. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Harry anywhere outside if he wasn't on the way to a class or Quidditch match.

"No, sir," said Harry in a small voice and Snape was relieved to see there were no tears behind the glasses today. "I wanted to talk to you about..."

"Very well, come in and sit down." Once Harry had seated himself on the chair by Snape's desk, he tidied away the essays he'd been marking and waited for Harry to begin.

"Sir, I have some questions I'd like to ask before I decide whether or not I'd like to have therapy with you, is that okay?"

"Perfectly fine. What is it you wanted to know?"

"It's just - if - if I tell you things, do you have to tell anyone what I've said? Do you have to report to the headmaster or the Ministry what I might say?"

"Not usually."

"Not usually? What do you mean?"

"I mean if you were tell to me that you were thinking of harming yourself or others, I might be forced to tell someone to save you from your actions, but other than that whatever you were to tell me would be completely confidential."

"Does the harming others include Voldemort?"

"No."

"Good," said Harry. "I'm not suicidal, so you won't have to worry about that."

"Glad to hear it," replied Snape. "Any other questions?"

"Yes, when can you fit me in?"

"You really want to do this?"

"I do. I want to do something. It feels as if just been reacting to things around me lately. I'm in a daze half the time and the other half I'm paranoid someone's out to get me, no, wait, that really is happening." He grinned, trying to lighten the mood but Snape sensed that Harry was more upset than he was letting on. Time enough to explore that in their first official session.

Snape conjured his diary and Harry lifted his timetable and schedule out of his bag. It was a bit of a juggle, but they both agreed that starting the next Thursday, Harry would have one two hour session of therapy each week, with Sunday afternoons pencilled in if they felt an extra session was needed.

"Do I still have to do Occlumency? I didn't think you wanted to train me anymore, after what I did," mumbled Harry, staring down at his timetable.

"I admit I was angry with you, what you did was a violation of my privacy and as you know I am a very private man. But I made a mistake, I should never have stopped those lessons and it would be remiss of me if we did not continue. Or would you prefer the headmaster to continue training you in Occlumency?"

"No, I'd rather it was you, professor. Thank you, sir, for doing this for me."

"Don't thank me yet, Potter. Let's wait until we've at least had our first session. I've never done this before, I might be a terrible therapist."

"Somehow, I doubt that, professor."

Chapter Four

At their second session, Snape gave Harry some breathing and meditation techniques to try and overcome his anxiety and tried each session to get him to talk more about his childhood with the Muggles. But Harry was very reluctant to discuss it and he decided to let Harry take the lead for now, but he knew they would have to discuss it sometime. For Snape was almost convinced that Harry's upbringing had a lot to answer for. Why had Dumbledore left him with such people in the first place?

Ever since their therapy sessions had begun, Snape found himself taking more and more notice of Harry outside of class and mealtimes. He went to the Gryffindor Quidditch matches, even those not against Slytherin, telling himself that he was only doing it so that he could keep an eye on Harry's anxiety levels, his interest was purely professional. He wasn't doing it so that he could admire how graceful Harry was on a broom, or note how his cheeks flushed with pride when he caught the snitch. He didn't do because he wanted to watch Harry. No, that wasn't it all.

He did let his mind wander though. Why did Harry seem to play so much better when Snape was watching?

***

They were now in their sixth session, he'd been surprised that Harry still kept coming. Was he really helping Harry? Snape didn't notice any difference, but maybe he was expecting too much too soon.

"Have you been doing your meditation, Harry?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are your exercises helping with your anxiety?"

"Not really, not yet. But they do help with the nightmares. I hardly get nightmares now if I remember to meditate before I go to sleep."

"What are your nightmares about, Harry?"

"Just stuff." Oh dear. It was going to be like their third session then, where Snape doggedly asked questions that Harry refused to answer. Snape didn't know what to do to make him open up when he got like this.

"What sort of stuff? Can you be more specific?"

"Just nightmare stuff, okay? It doesn't matter."

"It obviously matters to you if you're so upset that you can't talk about it."

"I don't want to talk about it," hissed Harry. "They're stupid. They're not real."

"So you don't think they were visions sent by Voldemort, then?"

"No, not unless he knows..." Harry trailed off.

"Knows what, Harry?"

"Why do you keep asking me stupid questions all the time? I'm sick of it!" shouted Harry, jumping from his chair and pacing the room like a caged animal. Snape could hear Harry's breathing becoming shallower and faster, he had to do something before Harry had another panic attack. They were frightening to watch and he'd only witnessed the one, during their third session when Snape had tried to push Harry into revealing more than he was willing to at the time.

"Harry, look at me, remember your breathing. Slowly. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. That's it, that's it," he soothed until Harry's breathing returned to something resembling normal. Snape conjured a glass of water and waited while Harry drank it.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm sorry for freaking out," said Harry, staring at his hands clenched round the glass, avoiding Snape's gaze.

"That's okay, Harry. That will probably happen sometimes. What made you panic today?"

"I just felt as if I couldn't breathe, like I was stuck. Like I was trapped."

"Nothing specific triggered it? Do you remember what you were thinking before it happened?"

"I was thinking about one of my nightmares. You're in it," began Harry. "You tell the whole school everything I tell you and laugh about me behind my back with the Slytherins. You don't keep my secrets."

"Harry, you do know that I would never do that, don't you? That I would never betray your trust that way?"

"But you already did," Harry said savagely.

"When?"

"In fourth year, when Rita Skeeter wrote that article about me, you read it out to the whole class and laughed about it. You laughed at me."

Snape barely remembered the incident, but knew that Harry spoke the truth. It's what he would have done at the time, before they had forged this, whatever this was, between them now. Obviously Harry remembered it well and still harboured strong feelings about it.

"I am sorry for any pain I caused you because of that, Harry, but do you really think I would do something like that, now?"

"No, but then I never said I was being rational," Harry said with a pout and Snape felt his eyes drawn to those lips, lips like dark strawberries, looking so much more colourful against the paleness of Harry's face. Snape wanted to take that full bottom lip in his mouth and nibble it until it was sore and even more reddened from his attentions. "Sir?"

Snape coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to quell his rapid arousal. He was glad that they'd both been wearing robes for these sessions. Maybe he should go to the headmaster immediately and tell him that he could no longer help Harry because he was becoming attracted to him? Then his common sense kicked in. Dumbledore didn't even know he was gay and a conversation like that would be enough to land him in Azkaban. He turned again to the boy and reminded himself that no matter how enticing Harry Potter was, Snape was old enough to be the boy's father and not only was he his student, Snape was also his therapist and let's not forget that anything he was considering doing with him was illegal. It was wrong on so many levels.

"Sorry, Harry. I was a little... distracted. Please go on."

Distracted? Merlin, he was more than distracted. Harry, however, seemed completely unaware how much of a tizzy he put his professor in and Snape was determined it would remain that way, however much he might dwell on soft lips and messy hair.

"I was wondering sir, if you knew of something to help me talk more about things. It's like they're inside me but I can't talk about them, even if I want to. Does that make sense?"

"Sort of, Harry. You want to talk about things, but find it difficult to put into words, is that it?"

"Yes, that's it," said Harry. "So do you know of anything that might help? Spells or a potion?"

"Harry, the only spell that would be of any use in what you describe, would be Imperius, and I am not about to cast an Unforgivable on you. No potion exists that would help, but maybe..." Snape trailed off and searched his bookshelves. "Do you know anything about Muggle hypnosis?"

"I don't want to forget things, or not know what I'm doing."

"I was thinking more of a light trance, just where you're in a more relaxed state, so that you would find it easier to talk about things that were bothering you. You would still be aware of everything going on around you and you wouldn't forget anything that we talked about. Would you be prepared to give it a try? We don't even know if it'll work on you yet."

"Okay, we can try, as long as you promise not to have me doing chicken impressions round the room."

"Er, very well," replied a confused Snape. Chicken impressions? What had that got to do with anything?

****

Harry eyed the sofa with some trepidation as he wondered whether or not he should lie down. He knew you could be hypnotised sitting up, but he was afraid that he would fall off the chair or something if he got too relaxed and didn't relish the idea of the Potions master having to help him up again. He hadn't told Snape about all the dreams he had about the man. Few of them were nightmares, the rest were dreams of an entirely different sort and he was afraid that if the man got too close, he would somehow know. Harry had so far managed to keep the man out of his mind during his Occlumency lessons, but these therapy sessions were different, less structured and Harry was afraid that one day he was going to give himself away.

To say he was a confused adolescent would be the understatement of the year.

"Would it be okay if I lie down?" asked Harry.

"If you wish, whatever you feel like, Harry."

Harry nodded, then bent down to untie his shoes and took them off. He took off his robe and hung it over the back of the sofa, leaving him in Dudley's old jeans and t-shirt, both of them far too large for him. The t-shirt slipped off his shoulder as he lay down on the sofa, his head resting against one arm, his feet lounging against the other. He heard a soft gasp from the man behind him.

"Harry, your clothes..."

"The only things that fit properly are my robes and school uniform, sir. The rest are hand-me downs, the Dursleys won't buy me anything new."

"I see," said Snape and brought one of the armchairs over so that he was now sitting next to Harry. Harry rested his hands over his stomach and waited for Snape to begin. He didn't see a watch anywhere. Didn't he have to look into one or something?

"Harry, all I want you to do is listen to my voice, just lie there and listen. You're feeling very relaxed right now, the room is warm and cosy and you're starting to feel drowsy." The words washed over Harry like a blanket and he let them take him away. "Your eyelids feel heavy, you want to close them, but you don't want to sleep. You close your eyes and you will feel a sense of calm. You feel relaxed but aware, you know that you are safe here. Do you feel calm, Harry?"

"Yes," his voice sounded languid as he closed his eyes and listened to Snape. Nothing in this room could hurt him.

"Now, Harry, I'm going to take you back, take you back to a memory. But remember, it is just a memory and it cannot physically harm you, do you understand?"

Harry nodded, he felt weightless and carefree.

"Now, Harry, I want you to remember your first memory of your uncle, of Vernon Dursley."

Harry felt his hands grip his t-shirt as he remembered, remembered that night when his world ended.

"Where are you, Harry?"

"In my room."

"At Privet Drive?"

"No, at Godric's Hollow."

"Godric's Hollow? What's happening there, Harry?"

"There's a bad man. He wants to hurt my mummy and me. Mummy's holding me."

"What about your daddy, Harry? Does the bad man want to hurt him too?"

"The bad man made my daddy go to sleep with the green light. I don't like the green light. Mummy's trying to hide us. She wants me to be quiet but I keep crying. I want my daddy! Ssh, Harry, ssh, oh, please, Harry, please be quiet. But I can't stop crying and he finds us. The bad man finds us. Please, not Harry! I'll do anything, please!"

"Stand aside you silly girl!"

"But mummy won't leave me, she turns round and puts me in my cot, trying to stop the bad man from getting to me, but he points his stick at her and makes her go to sleep with the green light. The bad man says something and points his stick at me and I see the green light, but it doesn't scare me anymore, but I still cry and close my eyes. When I open them again, the bad man's gone, but mummy and daddy don't wake up. They don't wake up!" Harry was sobbing now, great shudders of sorrow wracking his body as he tried to forget, tried to will the memories away. He turned himself over, mashing his head against the back of the sofa, his glasses digging uncomfortably into his face.

"Harry, when I count to three, you are going to open your eyes and aware of what just happened. You're going to feel refreshed and awake. One, two, three."

Harry opened his eyes, tears still dripping down his cheeks and turned his face towards his professor. The grief was still there, but he didn't feel as helpless as he had when he was a toddler who'd witnessed his parents' murders.

"It was my fault," said Harry brokenly. "If I hadn't cried, he might not have found her. It was my fault."

"Harry, listen to me. It was not your fault. The only person to blame for your parents' deaths was Voldemort. I'm sorry. I took you back too far. I meant to ask you about your memories of your uncle."

"But that's just it," said Harry. He was as surprised as Snape where the memories had taken him. "That was my first memory of my uncle. He was there with Voldemort that night."

Chapter Five

The first week back after the Christmas holidays, (a time that was even more depressing for Harry this year as Ron and Hermione had both gone home, and Snape had thought a rest from both his Occlumency and therapy sessions would be good for him) the sixth years had their first ever sexual education class, taken by Madam Pomfrey for the girls and by Professor Flitwick for the boys.

It was beyond embarrassing and Professor Flitwick's face was an unbecoming shade of red the entire time he told them about what and what they wouldn't be allowed to do now that their bodies were maturing. There was a lot more they weren't allowed to do than what they were.

Harry had never hated a class so much in his life. Everything he did, everything he thought about was wrong according to the laws of the wizarding world and he felt even more of an outsider than he did when the school thought he was the heir of Slytherin or had put his own name in the goblet of fire.

After the lesson, they were each handed a pamphlet issued by the Ministry of Magic, Proscribed Acts, Volume IV. Harry felt a little faint after he skimmed the first few lines. It seemed that the Ministry had a very dim view of any sexual activity that didn't involve churning out lots of little witches and wizards.

He wished desperately that he had a therapy session that night with Snape, he really needed to talk to someone.

After dinner, Harry hid himself away behind his bed curtains and took out the booklet again, wondering why he was even bothering. He almost remembered it off by heart already.

Everything besides female/male intercourse was a proscribed act. Kissing between unmarried people was not allowed, neither was "touching of the private area by oneself or by another", nor was "using the mouth on the private area of another" nor was there to be any act involving the anal area of "oneself or others." No two people of the same sex were to engage in anything with each other.

Wet dreams were considered an involuntary reaction and so were not proscribed. Hurray thought Harry bitterly.

Azkaban for two months was the set sentence for anything on the list except for homosexual activities, if caught they could both get sent to Azkaban for five years. The sentences were more lenient if the parties were underage, a stint in St. Mungo's rather than Azkaban, but it would be on their record and they would not have a trial if they were caught again once they'd reached seventeen.

Harry's thoughts once again turned to Snape and he crumpled up the paper in his fists. It was appalling, but what could he do about it? He drifted off to sleep and had nothing but nightmares that night.

***

Severus Snape was not often to be found wandering the back streets of Muggle London, but one Saturday after Harry's revelations that he'd seen his uncle with Voldemort, that's exactly where he was. Dressed, in what passed for casual for the Potions master, a black suit, white shirt and black tie, he gave of the air of an undertaker and the Muggles who did see him, hurriedly avoided his gaze.

When he arrived at the dilapidated telephone box, Snape punched in the number for the Ministry of Magic and stated his business after a tinny voice requested it.

"Professor Severus Snape, Hogwarts School, to visit the Room of Records."

"Thank you, visitor, please wear your visitor's badge at all times while within the Ministry." A plastic badge with his name popped out of the coin slot and the telephone box descended underneath London.

The Room of Records was in the basement, quite near the dungeon courthouses in fact, but Snape tried not to dwell on that too much. He wasn't under arrest, he had every right to be here, but he still felt as if Aurors would be swooping down on him any moment.

All around the Room of Records, were tiered shelves, each shelf filled with small black boxes the size of an audio cassette. Each box contained the birth, death and marriage of every witch, wizard and squib in the British and Irish wizarding world. If the wizard or witch was underage, the records also had details of guardianship. Unlike Muggle certificates, none of the boxes could be forged so Snape knew that whatever he found here would be true. The problem was, he wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for.

He searched the shelves until he came to Potter, H.J. and lifted the box down. He tapped it with his wand and waited for the record to reveal itself. A few moment later gold letters shimmered in the air before him.

Potter, Harry James.
Date of birth: 31 July 1980.
Wizard.
Father:
Potter, James Henry.
Mother:
Potter, Lily nee Evans.
Place of Residence:
1a) Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
1b) No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
1c) Restricted Information
Guardianship:
2a) Dumbledore, Albus. Hogwarts, wizard.
2b) Dursley, Vernon Arnold. Privet Drive, squib.
2c) Dursley, Petunia Martha. Privet Drive, witch.
See indexed records 15G and 67F.

Snape went quickly to the records indicated and found that indeed, Vernon Dursley was a squib and his wife was a witch. He sat down trying to get his mind around it. The Dursleys were wizarding folk after all, not Muggles? Did Dumbledore know? Did Harry? His heart clenched suddenly at the thought of having to tell this to Harry, but how could he keep it from him? Harry deserved to know, didn't he? And if Petunia Dursley was a witch, what was she doing living as a Muggle?

Feeling a headache coming on, Snape returned to Diagon Alley and tried to medicate himself with a few glasses of fire whiskey. They only made him more morose and he Floo'd back to Hogwarts before he got completely drunk. If he wanted to get completely plastered, he would prefer to do it in the privacy of his rooms.

***

The dorm was quiet, Ron and the others were asleep after their adventures in Hogsmeade that day. Harry hadn't gone, he was too afraid that he would have a panic attack out on the street, even if Ron and Hermione were with him. It wasn't so bad if he was with his friends, but he still had his bad days where just the thought of being in a crowd was enough to have him hyperventilating. He hadn't risked it and had spent the day studying, or trying to.

For although he had opened books and had even scrawled some notes on parchments, Harry's mind was elsewhere. Or more particularly on someone. A certain brooding Potions master who had left the castle earlier that morning and hadn't yet returned. Harry wondered if he'd gone to Voldemort, but his scar wasn't hurting, so he didn't think it could be that. Where had the man gone? He'd never just left like this before, he was always to be found haunting the castle. Harry's stomach gave a funny little jolt as he wondered if Snape had sneaked off to be with someone. Did he have a lover? A woman somewhere? The jealousy tasted bitter in his mouth and Harry stifled a groan as thoughts of Snape made heat flare low down in his belly.

It was getting more and more difficult, the more time he spent in the man's company, the more aroused Harry got and he couldn't do anything about it. Snape was his teacher and Harry knew he would not get involved with a student, never mind someone he was giving therapy to. Harry didn't even know if the man was even gay, or if he too thought that Harry was an abomination.

Harry stared at the canopy above his head, his cock hard and aching with want of a touch. But he couldn't do it, every time he tried to touch himself, remembered pain flared in his hands and he fisted his hands in the sheets. Vernon had made sure that Harry wouldn't do it again. The problem was, he did want to. He wanted to get some relief, he was frustrated and sore and couldn't sleep. Why couldn't he do this simple thing? It was his body, wasn't he? Wasn't he allowed to scratch himself if he itched? It was natural, wasn't it?

It wasn't as if Snape would do anything with him and since Harry was not in the least bit interested in experimenting with girls (his one kiss with Cho had decided that for him), that only left himself. Considering the wizarding world's laws, it wasn't as if he could even approach one of his schoolmates. Not that he wanted to, he knew he only wanted Snape. Wanted the man to kiss him and do things, but Harry wasn't exactly sure what they were.

Harry sighed and turned over on his stomach, maybe he would be able to squash the arousal out of himself. Instead, he felt something, a delicious wriggly feeling in his stomach and in his balls as his erection came into contact with the mattress. He shifted, thrusting lightly and sparks ignited all over his skin. He wasn't touching himself, he was just moving against the mattress, there was no law against moving, was there?

And if Harry moving against the bed made his cock even harder and his whole skin tingle, well he wasn't really touching himself, was he? He was just shifting on his bed trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. For he knew if he didn't do something, he would lie there awake all night feeling sore and frustrated.

Harry tried not to think of anything as he rubbed himself against his sheets, but his mind wouldn't remain blank for long, regaling him with images of Snape kissing him, Snape's hands touching him. He loved the feel of the sheets against those parts of him not covered by any cloth, even his feet were tingling. The sensations were amazing, he felt good all over, although most of those delicious tingles pooled in his groin and thighs.

He wondered if Snape ever did this, pleasured himself in the dark, but Harry was afraid that he was the only one depraved enough to do it. That there was something wrong with him that he wanted to touch himself this way. He couldn't imagine anyone else he knew breaking this wizarding taboo.

Harry bit his lip to stop himself from moaning out loud as his hips seemed to buck faster of their own accord. His hands grasped his headboard to give himself more leverage as his mind fractured into hundreds of images of Snape kissing him, Snape's tongue inside his mouth, Snape's hands fisted in Harry's hair. Harry gasped Snape's name, muffling his cries in his pillow as he came, tasting damp cotton, spurting his release onto the sheets below him, his whole body shuddering.

Harry loosened his grip on the headboard, feeling shaky and a little sick after his orgasm, the first one he'd ever had while awake. Shouldn't he have felt calmer now? He was feeling upset and guilty that he hadn't been able to stop himself thinking of Snape while he'd done it.

He felt as though he'd betrayed the man's trust by thinking of him like that while Harry got off. What would Snape say when he found out? It wasn't an idle worry, their next Occlumency lesson was scheduled for the next day.

Harry dearly wished he'd had a cold shower instead.

Chapter Six


Harry was late for his Occlumency lesson, a game of wizards' chess with Ron had them both forgetting about the time, and Harry forgetting about everything really. When the clock in the common room chimed eight, Harry almost bolted out of his chair in his haste to get to Snape's office. Snape hated tardiness and Harry didn't think the man would be too pleased about Harry being late.

Snape was waiting by the door when Harry knocked, his arms folded over his chest.

"I'm sorry, sir, I was playing chess with Ron and-"

"Don't bother with excuses or explanations, Potter. Come in and shut the door behind you."

Once he was in the office, studiously not looking at the slimy things in jars, Snape rounded on him again.

"Do you have any idea how important these lessons are?" Snape's left eyelid was twitching madly and Harry tried not to stare.

"Yes, sir." Harry stared at the floor, wishing he had his invisibility cloak to hide behind today.

"This is not some silly game, Potter! If you don't master this, then the Dark Lord will be able to gain access to your mind and there is nothing I nor anyone else can do to help you. You have to be able to block him on your own. If you'd rather play games with your friends than accept what I am doing to help you, then don't bother coming for these lessons again."

Harry felt as if someone had just kicked him in the gut. Snape wanted to stop? What had happened? He was only a few minutes late, surely Snape wouldn't stop the lessons because of that?

"Professor, I really am sorry. It won't happen again, I don't want you to stop teaching me."

"Very well," Snape removed his wand and stood a few paces in front of Harry. "Legilimens!!"

Harry felt the spell like a spider trying to scuttle across his mind, he blocked Snape easily the first time, but the man wouldn't let him rest, casting the spell again and again without any rest in between. Harry knew it would be more difficult to block without rest periods, but he guessed that Voldemort was hardly going to bother with letting him rest before he attacked his mind.

Harry blocked and almost managed to push Snape completely out of his mind, when he suddenly thought of what he'd been doing the night before, his fantasies of Snape and his concentration went out the window. Wouldn't it just be his luck that the one memory he didn't want Snape to see was the one that the man finally honed in on and broke through Harry's defences.

Too late, Harry pushed the man out of his mind. He stood there, feeling ashamed and waited for Snape to shout at him, to give him detention. Anything but this uncomfortable silence between them. He felt a lot shorter than he actually was and had a vision of himself being squashed beneath Snape's heel like an insect, for daring to do what he'd done. Harry tried to open his mouth, to say sorry, but he couldn't speak, his throat wouldn't work.

"You lost focus, Potter. We will do it again until you can repel me. Until you can stop me from entering those memories too. Ready? Legimens!" Snape cast the spell again and again until Harry thought he would go mad from the repeated attacks.

Then Snape tried to get in, tried to get into that memory that Harry had hidden from himself for years. Harry, on his knees beside his bed in Dudley's old room, Vernon.... NO!!! He pushed with all his might forcing Snape out of his mind. When he finally repelled Snape, Harry was shocked to discover himself kneeling on the floor, with a pounding headache and waves of nausea to keep him company. Sweat was dripping down his back and his whole body was shaking. He had no idea that Occlumency could take it out of you so physically. His mouth was so dry he could hardly swallow.

Snape thrust a glass of water at him. Harry took it gratefully but he still couldn't get his throat to work to even say thanks. He downed it too fast, giving himself stomach cramps and when he handed the glass back to Snape, he saw the man rolling his eyes at Harry's stupidity.

"Do you want some more water?" asked Snape. "Would you like a potion for your headache?"

"How did you know I had a headache?"

"You're dehydrated from the spells, Potter. One of the first symptoms is a headache. You should also drink some more water, even if you don't feel like it."

Harry nodded, trusting Snape to know what needed to be done for him. He glanced at the clock on one of Snape's shelves and was surprised to discover that over three hours had passed. They'd never done Occlumency for this long before. It was well after curfew, but Harry hoped that since Dumbledore had authorised these lessons, Harry wouldn't get in trouble when he returned to his dormitory.

Harry struggled to get to his feet, but it was as if his limbs belonged to someone else, they wouldn't do what he wanted. His left leg went one way, his right the other and he was sort of in an undignified split when Snape returned with a potion bottle and a large jug of water. Snape huffed, set the water down, a few drops splashed on the stone floor and suddenly Snape's arms were around Harry's midriff, getting him to his feet.

"I'm okay!" protested Harry, struggling to get out of the man's grasp, but once Snape let him go, he almost collapsed in a heap. His legs were trembling like he'd been hit with lots of Jelly-Legs hexes at once. This time, he didn't try and push Snape away when the man guided him over to one of the chairs by Snape's desk.

"Always so impatient, Harry?" he asked with a smile. Harry was too wrung out to smile back. It had never been as intense as this before. Not to mention that he was still waiting for Snape to drop his bombshell of how Harry was to be punished, both for breaking wizarding law and for thinking of Snape while he'd done it. "Take two sips of the potion and then drink as much more water as you can stand, but not too quickly or you'll get cramps again."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, tipping the potion bottle up and taking two sips of the bitter concoction. It wasn't long before his headache disappeared. Snape was a master after all. Harry drank four more glasses of water before his bladder protested. "Um, may I use your bathroom, sir?" He didn't think he'd last until he got to one of the school bathrooms and definitely wouldn't make it to the dorms.

"Of course, Harry. Through the living room, second door on the left."

***

Snape watched the boy go, his heart hammering a strange tune on his ribs. In Harry's mind, he'd seen... But surely Harry couldn't think of him like that? He was old enough to be the boy's father! Was it a side effect of their therapy sessions or even the Occlumency? Being in another's mind was very intimate, maybe Harry was mistaking his feelings for something else.

But Snape couldn't deny that he was secretly pleased at Harry's fantasies of him. Although, giving how much he remembered of being a teenage boy, Harry's fantasy life seemed fairly tame, kissing mostly, with the odd touch of hands on skin, but never anywhere particularly interesting. Almost as though Harry wasn't quite sure what being intimate between two people would involve.

Snape firecalled Albus, knowing that the headmaster rarely slept until well past midnight of an evening.

"Severus, is everything all right? How did Harry's lesson go tonight?"

"He's getting stronger and quicker to repel me, but we had an extended session. There might be side affects from being under the spells for so long. He could go to the infirmary, but we know how much Harry hates that. Would it be okay if he spent the night in my quarters so that I could keep an eye on him?"

"I don't think that is very appropriate, Severus, do you? Harry should go back to his dorm and I'll cast an alarm spell on him. If there are any problems, he can go straight to the infirmary."

"Yes, of course, Albus. I'm sorry for putting you on the spot like that."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Severus. It won't happen again, though will it?"

"Very well, Albus. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sleep tight," said Albus with a silly grin and Snape had to fist his hands at his sides to keep himself from punching something. Sometimes he wasn't sure which of his masters he loathed more, Voldemort or Dumbledore.

"Sir?"

Snape turned round to find Harry hovering uncertainly by the doorway to his private chambers. He looked a little pale, but not overly so. Hopefully the water and headache potion had done the trick, but the truth was Snape didn't know if there were going to be any lasting effects from having Harry under the spells for so long. No-one had been under Legilimens constantly for more than an hour to his knowledge.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I wondered, sir, if - if we could have a therapy session tomorrow? I know we don't normally do Mondays..."

"Does eight o'clock suit?" Snape wondered if Harry would talk about the glimpses of memories that Snape had seen, especially that last one when he was thrust so forcefully out of the boy's mind.

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," smiled Harry and Snape suddenly felt as if he was Santa Claus and had just given Harry his perfect present.

He was just about to say goodnight to Harry, when the boy screamed and dropped to the floor, clutching his scar. A few seconds later, Harry was arching his whole body in pain, only his feet and head were actually touching the floor, the rest of his body shaped like a human bridge.

Blood dripped from the boy's nose, mouth and ears. Snape knelt down, quickly undoing his belt and fitted the leather in Harry's mouth so that he wouldn't bite his tongue as he fitted. Snape tried to hold Harry's body as much as he could, but it was like trying to hold an eel, so that he wouldn't be able to damage himself further. It almost looked as if Harry was suffering the Cruciatus curse, but how could that be? You needed eye contact with the victim to cast that spell.

Harry stopped moving for a few moments, but then screamed and wriggled again. Snape didn't dare leave him, not even to call Poppy. Was it the extended exposure to Legimens that was causing Harry's problems now?

After half an hour of Harry struggling and Snape trying his best to hold him down, Harry went completely limp and stared up at his professor with wide green eyes. "Sir?"

Snape removed his hands from Harry's body and stood up. Harry pushed himself upright, struggling to compost himself.

"Three Muggles," sighed Harry. "Three tonight."

"What do you mean, Harry? What was that about Muggles?"

"Voldemort, sir. He was having some fun tonight. He attacked three Muggles with Cruciatus. Sorry, I'm still a bit groggy after that."

Snape stared at the bloodied boy on the floor and then stared some more. "Harry, do you mean to tell me that you were under the curse, as well as the Muggles?"

"Not exactly," said Harry. "I've been under it before, this is different. It's more of an echo of the curse, but it's still painful. I feel something of what Voldemort's victims feel. Whatever he does to them. It isn't usually as bad as this, I think it was because my mind was still a bit fragile after the Occlumency tonight."

Snape was appalled that what he'd been attempting to do to help Harry had in fact led to the boy screaming on his floor. "I'm taking you to the infirmary, Harry. No arguments."

It must have said something about how terrible Harry was really feeling, when there were none.

Nor did he object when Snape scooped him up in his arms and Floo'd them both to the hospital wing.


Chapter Seven

Harry woke up in the infirmary the next morning, feeling as though someone had torn his body inside out, but hadn't bothered to read the manual in order to put it back together properly. He ached in places he didn't even know he had. He couldn't stop himself from groaning at the pain in his muscles, bringing Madam Pomfrey's attention to the fact that he was awake.

She bustled towards his bed, wand in one hand and a potion bottle in the other. Harry sat up, leaning back against his pillows, but even that little exertion had him panting for breath as if he'd just run a marathon. Harry caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Snape was asleep, seated beside Harry's bed, his head and upper body resting on Harry's bedclothes.

"He's been there all night," said Madam Pomfrey. "I tried to tell him that you'd been through this before, but he still wouldn't go. You'd think I don't know how to treat my own patients. Drink all of that, Potter and then I'll see about getting you breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," said Harry before he took the potion bottle from her hands and started sipping. It tasted of cherries and he wondered why all of Snape's potions tastes so bitter compared to the ones in the infirmary. Snape made those too, didn't he?

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, young man. No-one is leaving my care until they've had a good breakfast inside them."

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry, knowing there was no way he was getting out of it if he wanted to leave today. Eating breakfast would be child's play compared to what Voldemort had done to him last night. Harry coughed as he was about half way through the potion, waking Snape up. He looked awake and alert as soon as his eyes opened.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to wake you."

"How are you feeling now, Harry?"

"Not too bad. I can probably go after I've had some breakfast. This isn't the first time this has happened, I'm fine, really."

"I was worried, I didn't know what to do to help you. What if it happens again, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Just what you did, stop me from hurting myself. I don't even know who I am when it's happening, don't know what is going on, I just want the pain to stop."

"I know, Harry. I know."

Harry looked into those dark eyes and realised that the man did know. Harry wasn't the only one to have been on the receiving end of Voldemort's crucios.

***

Harry was deemed well enough to return to his classes after eating most of the cereal and toast that Madam Pomfrey had plied him with, on the proviso that he was to come straight back if he had another episode as she liked to call them. He promised, glad to be getting out at last. He spent far too much time in the infirmary in his opinion.

Harry wasn't hungry at lunch, so he sought out the solitude of the common room while everyone else was in the Great Hall. He wasn't alone for long. Hermione stepped through the portrait hole, her worried frown replaced with a relieved smile when she saw Harry sitting in one of the window seats.

"Not hungry?" she asked him, flopping down on one of the sofas.

"No," said Harry, turning back to gaze out the window.

Hermione cleared her throat and waited until Harry turned back round to face her. Hermione had her serious face on and Harry guessed he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

"Harry, I know it's probably none of my business, but I'm worried about you. You've got to be more careful."

"Careful? About what?"

"About you and Professor Snape. There's been talk."

"Talk? What sort of talk?"

"There's a rumour that you and Snape are - well that you're having an affair with him."

"That I'm what?" screeched Harry. "Why would anyone think that?"

"Well, you have been spending a lot of time with him recently, what with your Occlumency lessons, but people don't really believe you're doing Remedial Potions. How can they be if you're in the advanced class? And then last night you didn't come back to the dorm and Ron said-"

"Ron said? Ron was the one who started these stupid rumours? You believe him, do you?"

"I don't know what's going on, Harry. I just know that ever since - ever since Sirius died you've not been acting like yourself. I'm worried about you."

"You're worried that Snape might take advantage of me in my delicate state of mind, is that it, Hermione?"

"Something like that," she admitted softly. "You're feeling very vulnerable right now and I don't want you to get hurt."

"He would never hurt me, Hermione. Snape's helping me. We're not having an affair, although sometimes I would like to. I think I'm a little in love with him. When we're not doing Occlumency, he's giving me therapy. Did he know he's a qualified Muggle psychologist?"

"No, I didn't know that. Therapy? What for? What's wrong?"

"A lot of things," Harry said vaguely. "He's helping me work through them."

"I see. Wait a minute, did you just say you were in love with him? He's a man Harry, you can't. It's not allowed."

"Don't tell me you agree with the Ministry with their stupid sex laws?"

"No, of course I don't! I have no problem with you being gay, I'm just afraid that they'll send you away if they find out. You haven't told anyone else, have you?"

"Of course not! Snape knows, though. He hasn't mentioned it."

"And does he know how you feel about him?"

"He does now," replied Harry, remembering Snape seeing the memory in his mind. Not the way he would have wanted the man to find out how Harry felt about him, but he was still glad that Snape knew.

"If I organised a petition or something, would you sign it?"

"Petition?"

"Yes, to lobby the Ministry about changing the sex laws. I can't be the only one who finds them outdated not to mention oppressive. So, would you sign it?"

Hermione had a gleam in her eyes, the thrill of a new cause to support. What hope did Harry have against that?

He agreed.

***

Snape waited in his living room for Harry to arrive for their therapy session that night, his thoughts on what he had glimpsed in Harry's mind and also on what he had discovered at the Ministry about Harry's relatives. Should he tell Harry what he'd found out or let it lie? He didn't know which was the best course but knew that eventually Harry would be able to gain access to his memories and Snape did not want Harry to find out that way.

At five to eight, he conjured a tea tray and some chocolate biscuits, although he wasn't even sure if Harry liked biscuits. At one minute to eight, he sensed the wards on his private door dissolving, but Harry didn't come in. He knocked first and Snape strode over to open the door.

Harry sat in his usual place, perched on the edge of the sofa as though he was about to take flight at any moment. Had he always been this nervous? Harry eyed the tea tray as though afraid Snape had poisoned it.

"There are some things we need to discuss, Harry," said Snape, pouring two cups of tea. He set a chocolate biscuit on the saucer of one cup and handed it to Harry. The boy's hands were shaking so much that tea spilled over the edge of the cup, splashing the biscuit. Harry barely seemed to notice. What had got him so agitated tonight?

"I'm sorry, sir. Please don't tell."

"Harry? What's wrong? What's worrying you?"

"The memory you saw about me. Please don't tell the Ministry. I - I couldn't help it. I'm sorry."

"Harry, that isn't what I want to discuss with you." Although maybe one day he would.

"It isn't?"

"No. Tell me, Harry, what do you know about the Dursleys?"

"They're Muggles and they're afraid of magic. They hate me because I can do magic, but they're not afraid of me. Not when they can..." Harry trailed off and sipped his tea.

"Do you know what the Room of Records is, Harry?"

"Yes, sir."

"So you know that magical records cannot be forged?"

Harry nodded.

"I discovered in the Room of Records that Vernon Dursley is a squib and that his wife is a witch, they were recorded as two of your guardians."

"That's impossible!" spluttered Harry. "They hate magic. They tried - they tried to -"

"Harry," Snape prodded gently. "What is it?"

"They tried to get the magic out of me," Harry's eyes lowered, teardrops dripping into his tea. "They hit me, beat me, with a belt or a stick usually. Aunt Petunia likes to use the belt, she can't stand touching me with her bare hands, she doesn't like to touch me at all. Vernon likes the stick or his hands, but the stick is his favourite. There's a notch on one end that - that always cuts me when he hits me with it. He likes it when I bleed. He - he - he -"

But Harry couldn't go on, he was sobbing now, the cup rattling against the saucer as shudders wracked his whole body. Snape forgot everything seeing the lost boy on his sofa. Forgot rules, forgot laws, forgot propriety. All he knew was that the young man on his sofa needed comforting and he wouldn't get it from anyone else.

Snape left his chair and sat down beside Harry, wrapping his arms around the boy and rocking him against his body, cradling Harry's head against his chest. "Ssh, Harry, it's all right, it's all right," Snape crooned over and over until he finally felt the tension leach out of Harry's body. Snape felt Harry's tears seep into his robes as the boy continued to weep silently.

They stayed like that for a while, the only sounds their breathing and the crackle of fire in the grate. Snape rubbed his hand up and down Harry's back, realising that he didn't want to let him go just yet. Harry too didn't seem to want to eschew the comfort of Snape's arms around him. Snape would hold him for as long as Harry would allow it. He wondered if anyone had ever just hugged Harry like this, if he'd ever been offered such a comfort before. From Molly Weasley maybe, he'd seen her with Harry during Order meetings and Harry seemed to be an adopted son for her.

"Harry, do you want to talk about what he did to you?" Snape asked softly, aware that he was perhaps pushing Harry too far tonight, but he knew that Harry needed to talk about it, needed to get it out in the open. He'd suspected all along what had happened to Harry, but until Harry could voice it, it would still haunt the boy.

Harry stiffened in his arms, it was like holding a block of wood.

"I told you what he did," Harry mumbled against Snape's chest. "He hit me. He didn't do anything else. He didn't!"

Harry wrenched himself out of Snape's grasp and staggered to the door, yanking it open with the force of someone who was quite plainly running away. Snape let him go, yet at the same time knowing that one day Harry would have to tell him everything that Vernon had done to him.

For Snape knew that until he did, Harry would never get well.



Chapter Eight

Harry ran from the dungeons, ran as far as he could until his lungs hurt and his throat ached so that he had no choice but to slump down beside the wall to get his breath back. Running was useless anyway, he couldn't run away from his memories. They were stuck there, inside his head and there was no way to get them out. He wondered if it was possible to Obliviate yourself or did someone else need to cast the spell? And would they have to know what his memories were in order to remove them?

After he'd rested for a while, Harry stood up and surveyed the corridor he found himself in. Unlike the rest of the castle, the walls were panelled wood, not stone and although there were no torches nor windows, Harry could see as clearly as if it was daylight. It didn't look at all familiar, he wasn't sure he'd even been here before. It was even colder than the dungeons and Harry wondered how on earth he'd managed to get himself so lost that he ended up somewhere he'd never seen in all his six years of exploring the castle with the help of the Marauder’s Map.

The wood panels seemed to be moving, as though the walls themselves were breathing. Harry's breath misted in front of him and he shivered, feeling a coldness settle deep in his bones. He walked to the end of the corridor, but when he turned, he ended back where he was. He tried the other end but the same thing happened and he was stuck in the middle of the corridor again.

On his fifth try of attempting to escape the corridor, he noticed a large door, which he was sure hadn't been there before. Could the Room of Requirement move to different corridors? If he went through that door, would he find his way out or be trapped even further in this place?

Harry removed his wand and tentatively pushed the door open. It glided smoothly, well oiled and although he was a little nervous of what he might find in the room, he was more curious too. He wondered if anyone else had discovered this secret room, or was he the first one to find it? Maybe he'd have to extend the Map.

The chamber he entered was a stone walled room, reminding him of Snape's office. There were no shelves here, though, no slimy ingredients in jars. In the centre of the room a large black cauldron was hanging over a firepit in the middle of the floor, something bubbling inside it.

Five figures dressed in red robes were standing round the cauldron, chanting something in a language Harry couldn't understand. He felt a soul deep terror, even though he knew these weren't Death Eaters, and he turned to flee only to find that the door was now locked. He rattled it, cast Alohomora at it, but the door wouldn't budge.

The chanting stopped and all five figures turned to him, their faces were obscured by red masks and Harry knew he had to escape, that it wasn't safe here with these - with these whatever they were. They ambled towards him with unsteady gaits, almost as if they were not comfortable walking upright.

Harry cast a stunning spell at them, but it had no effect. None of them were carrying wands and Harry guessed that they were some form of magical creature who were either impervious to spells and didn't need wands to cast them.

"Harry Potter," cackled a dry voice. "We were waiting for you."

"Please, let me out." He didn't want to be here. Didn't want to be locked in this room with them.

"We will let you go. When we have finished with you. Did you think to go unpunished, boy? You've broken our rules and you will pay the penalty."

Rules? Penalty? Harry didn't know what was going on and he wished desperately that he'd stayed with Snape, no matter how many bad memories he wanted Harry to talk about.

Two sets of strong arms gripped Harry under the armpits and dragged him across the floor, towards the boiling cauldron. Harry struggled but that only seemed to make their hold on him tighter. The chanting started again, low and deep but he barely heard it above his heart pounding like the sea in his ears. His magic was useless and he wasn't strong enough to fight them all, even if he did manage to evade their grips.

Harry screamed and kicked at the two holding him, his foot connecting with something squishy behind him. One in front of him tugged his chin up and Harry saw his hands, mottled and scabbed, like something rotten.

His hands. Harry passed out to a vision of grey hands.

***

Snape tidied away the tea set and the uneaten chocolate biscuits, feeling as if he'd failed Harry tonight in some way. Maybe he shouldn't have asked so soon about Harry's uncle, but he knew that the sooner Harry talked about it, the sooner it would not haunt him as much. He wondered if Harry would even turn up for their next official session, but hoping that he would.

Snape sat down and started to read a book, when there was a pounding on his outer office door. At first he thought it might have been Harry coming back, but Harry knew his passwords and could enter at will. One of his Slytherins then. He walked to the door wondering what his little snakes had been up to now. Probably someone had been throwing hexes around again and needed Snape for the counter curse. Quite a few of them knew plenty of hexes but not how to reverse them.

As soon as he opened the door, Snape was greeted with a frantic, dishevelled Draco Malfoy, dressed in his pyjamas and a jade green dressing gown. "Sir! Sir! Come quick! Come quick!!"

"What is it?" asked Snape as he left his office and followed Draco down the corridor to the Slytherin common room. Draco was running but with Snape's longer strides it was easy to keep up with his student.

"It's Potter, sir. He just appeared in the middle of the room, but he's hurt, sir, hurt bad!"

Snape felt his steps falter at Draco's words. Harry hurt? He hadn't done something to himself, had he? After their disastrous session? He entered the common room to find most of his House out of bed and in a circle, he assumed Harry to be at the centre of it as he couldn't see him. "Out of the way! Out of the way!" he yelled and they hastily dispersed, leaving Snape to gasp in horror at the scene they revealed.

Harry was indeed in the middle of the floor, but he was completely naked, his entire body covered in whip marks and burns as if he'd been scalded. He was whimpering with pain and Snape knew that he couldn't be touched, not unless he had some form of painkiller in him first. Harry was curled up in a ball, as though making a lesser target of himself.

"Who did this?" demanded Snape, looking at each of the Slytherins in turn. "Who did this?"

"We don't know, sir," said Draco. "I told you, he just appeared out of thin air like this. We don't know who hurt him."

"So help me, Malfoy, if you are lying to me..."

"I'm not, sir. I don't know what happened. Shall I firecall Madam Pomfrey, professor?"

"Yes, at once. The rest of you back to bed," ordered Snape. He wanted to cover Harry with something but knew that even draping a blanket or cloak over him would hurt him even more.

Poppy stepped out of the Floo a few moments later, her hand going to her mouth. "Merlin, Severus, what happened?"

"We don't know, he just appeared like this."

Poppy looked from Snape to Harry, then to Draco. Draco's face was almost as pale as his hair. "Hold his head up, Severus, while I get him to drink this." She pulled a small blue vial from the pocket in her apron. Morpheus Draught, the strongest legal painkiller Snape had ever brewed. It would knock Harry out cold, numbing any sensations and it could not be used without supervision in case the patient stopped breathing.

Snape moved to hold Harry's head, he whimpered and tried to struggle away, but his attempts were feeble, unlike the strong Quidditch player Snape knew he was. "Ssh, Harry, it's all right," Snape said as he tried not to hurt him even further, but that was an impossibility. There wasn't a bit of Harry's body that wasn't covered in burns. Even his hair was falling out in clumps and Snape could see that his scalp was scalded too. He wondered what on earth had happened. Harry didn't scream as Snape lifted his head so that Poppy could pour the Draught down his throat, almost as if his throat was too sore to even attempt it.

A few moments later, his eyes fluttered closed and Snape saw that even his eyebrows and eyelashes were gone. His breathing evened out and Snape held Poppy's gaze for a few seconds. "We'd better get him to the infirmary before he wakes up," Poppy transfigured one of the sofas into a stretcher. She and Snape gently lifted Harry onto it, trying not to jostle his body too much.

"Draco, do you have a spare sheet, or something cotton?"

"Yes, sir," replied Draco and hurried off to fetch it. Snape couldn't bear the thought of Harry being uncovered as they made their way to the infirmary, he knew how much Harry valued his privacy. "Cotton's all right, isn't it, Poppy?"

"It's fine now, Severus. The Draught will keep him out of it for a while. Let's hope it continues to work, the treatment will not be pleasant either."

Snape nodded as Draco returned with a large white bedsheet, the Hogwarts school crest embroidered in blue on the top left corner. Draco draped it over Harry with a softness and care that Snape never thought to see in a Malfoy. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," said Poppy, bending down ready to lift the stretcher. "I don't want to use too much magic on him until we're sure it won't damage him further. We'll have to carry him to the infirmary." Snape had no objections to that and he hefted the other end.

It took longer than he would have liked, having to negotiate stairs and narrow corridors but finally they made it to the hospital wing. Once Harry was settled on top of one of the beds, Poppy transfigured the one next to it into a long bath, a tap of her wand filling it half with water and half with ice.

"Help me lift him," she advised Snape.

"You're not putting him in there, are you?"

"Yes, we need to cool the skin before I even attempt a skin regeneration spell. He also needs to be treated with a burn salve."

"It can be healed, then?"

"I hope so. It depends on how long he's been like this, how long since he was first burned. It will take a bit of time anyway. We can't treat all of his body at once, so he'll be staying here for the next few days, if not weeks."

"I see," said Snape as he helped Poppy immerse Harry in the cold bath. He thought that maybe the shock of the water would negate the effects of the Morpheus Draught had rendered him conscious again, but Harry remained as if sleeping. After about ten minutes when it seemed as though Snape's hands were about to fall off from cold, Poppy seemed to think that was enough and they placed Harry on the bed again. He wasn't even shivering.

Poppy handed him a jar of his own burn remedy while she kept another. "It'll be quicker if we both do it. Spread it everywhere, Severus. I do mean everywhere," Poppy looked pointedly at Harry's groin. Snape flushed but decided to apply the ointment there first. He was brisk and efficient, deliberately not thinking that he had his hands on Harry Potter's cock.

Once Harry had been covered in the cooling ointment, Poppy cast the first regeneration spell on his legs and feet. Snape watched as his skin puckered and then smoothed out, turning an alarming shade of pink. The spell stopped at his knees, the burns on his thighs looking so much worse now in contrast to the smoothness of his lower legs.

"That's all I dare risk with him tonight, Severus. I can't give him any more of the Draught until tomorrow and he'll need it for all the spells. Skin regeneration is terribly painful. Have you no idea what happened, Severus, none at all?"

"I'm afraid not, Poppy. It seems he just appeared in the middle of the Slytherin common room. Do you think it might have been a prank gone wrong?"

"No, this was no prank, Severus. I think - I think he was tortured."

Tortured? Snape's mind went immediately to Death Eaters, but how could they have entered the castle without alerting the wards? If it was Death Eater, why hadn't Snape been summoned too? Voldemort had been quiet on the whole for a while. No, he didn't think it could be Death Eaters after all.

Poppy didn't even bother trying to chase him out of the infirmary that night, he wouldn't have gone anyway. She even made up a bed for him, right next to Harry's. Snape wasn't sure he would be able to sleep in his worry for the boy, but Poppy had given him a glass of pumpkin juice, laced with a sleeping draught before he noticed the aftertaste and he fell onto the pillows with a soft sigh.

He was shaken awake by Poppy, his eyes squinting at the sunlight streaming through the high windows. "Harry?" he gasped before he was even fully awake.

"He's conscious," said Poppy carefully. Snape had the distinct impression that she wasn't telling him everything. He hopped down from the bed and made his way over to Harry's. Harry was lying, staring at the ceiling, his eyes blank.

"Is he in pain?"

"No, I've dosed him with a mild sedative, it's too early to give him the Morpheus again. He isn't in any pain."

"So what's wrong with him?"

The boy in the bed turned to Snape, a shy smile on his face. "Hello. Are you the doctor? I think that woman's a nurse. She's nice, isn't she?"

"Harry? What?" Snape turned to Poppy. "What's wrong with him?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you. Harry's got amnesia. He doesn't have any idea who he is."




Chapter Nine

The boy opened his eyes slowly, as if by delaying that first moment of wakefulness, he would find himself back home in his own bed and not in the strange place. The problem was, he didn't know where home was either. He couldn't remember where he was supposed to be or who he was.

The place seemed to be some sort of hospital and he thought he'd been here for a few weeks, but time didn't seem to have much meaning to him. He was going by how many times he'd woken up, but sometimes it was still daylight when he woke again, he wasn't sure if it was the same day or a different one.

He didn't feel any pain any more and the burns that were on his hands and arms were completely gone, but they would not allow him a mirror so that he could see his face. He guessed it must not be a pretty sight then and he wondered again what had happened to him to land him in this place. Had he had some sort of accident? Why couldn't he remember?

Who was he and why did he have so many visitors? There was a girl with bushy brown hair who cried non-stop every time she visited him, sometimes alone, sometimes she was with a red haired boy who wouldn't even look at him, just stared at the floor the entire time. The boy on the bed felt that his face must have looked awful if the red haired boy couldn't even look at him.

There was an old man with a white beard and flowing purple robes, at first the boy thought he'd been dreaming, but the man visited too often for dreams. He wondered if he was in some sort of insane asylum. Was he crazy, was that why he couldn't remember anything?

The boy turned over, his eyes fully opened now. There was a very large man standing by his bed, shaggy hair and beard and dressed in the weirdest clothes the boy had ever seen. The man bent down as though to hug him or kiss him and the boy screamed in earnest, trying to get out of bed to get away from the large man.

The doctor man came over and ushered the giant man out. The boy scooted up the bed and pressed himself hard against the headboard, tucking his knees to his chest rocking backwards and forwards. He could hear the doctor's footsteps approach his bed.

"Make them go away," he pleaded to his knees. "Make them all go away."

"You don't want any visitors?"

"No, I don't know them. I don't want to see anyone."

"Including me?" asked the doctor, sounding rather sad.

The boy looked up and shook his head. "No, I know you and the matron. I don't know anyone else. I don't want to know them. I want to go home. When can I go home?"

"When you're better, Harry," sighed the doctor.

"Harry, is that my name? Did you know me before?"

"I did, yes. And Harry is your name. Harry Potter."

"I don't feel like a Harry."

"No? What do you feel like, then?"

"Hmm, I feel like a George."

The doctor snorted, as though he was trying not to laugh. "Do you now? Well we used to have a George at Hogwarts, but we'll stick with Harry for you, all right?"

"Okay," said the boy. It wouldn't bother him either way, as he had no way of knowing what his real name was anyway. "You're not really a doctor, are you?"

"No, I'm a teacher here at Hogwarts, it's a school."

"What's your name?"

"Professor Snape. Severus Snape."

"Severus? That's an unusual name," commented Harry.

"My father had a strange sense of humour. He named me after a Roman Emperor. Not that he ever thought I would amount to such stature." Professor Snape went to the nightstand and poured out a glass of water, handing it to Harry. Harry had the impression that it wasn't really because he thought Harry might be thirsty, but that he wanted Harry to stop asking questions. The problem was, Harry had nothing but questions.

He dutifully drank the water though, very aware of Snape watching him the whole time. He wasn't sure, how could he be? But he had the idea that there was something more between them than the roles of student and teacher. The man had barely left his side the whole time he'd been in the infirmary, as if he was sitting vigil at the bedside of a lover.

He glanced up at his glass and his breath hitched in his throat when he noticed what was in those dark eyes on him. Fear, hope, desire and love. The man loved him. This man, this professor loved him, but Harry hadn't even remembered his name. He felt something for the man, his heart fluttered every time he saw the professor, but he couldn't really remember him from before. Could they just go back to being lovers when he didn't remember them being so intimate in the first place?

"You should rest," said the professor after Harry had drained his glass. Harry nodded, too tired and confused to do much else. He sank back down on the pillows and closed his eyes, even though the last thing he wanted to do was sleep.

***

Snape sought Poppy in her office once he was sure that Harry was comfortable, even though he knew the boy was not asleep. He wondered how it would feel to have all his memories gone, the good and the bad. It must be really weird. "Is his memory loss caused by a spell, Poppy?" he asked her, as she bustled about her office, checking ledgers and potion stocks on the shelves.

"No, Severus, it's not a spell. It's caused by some sort of trauma. The mind has a way of guarding itself against unpleasant things. Sometimes we just repress the bad memories completely. However, it seems that with Harry, it has gone a stage further and he has blocked everything out."

"I'm not surprised," sighed Snape. "Poppy, the things he suffered, the things he endured, I'm just surprised he hasn't broken before this. Will his memories come back, do you think?"

"Since it's not physical, he hasn't suffered a head injury for example, I think they will come back eventually, but it could be a few weeks, it could be years. There's no way of knowing."

Years? Severus wondered how Harry would cope with that.

"How are his burns doing?"

"The regeneration spells have been working well, I think two more sessions should do it and he will be well enough to leave the infirmary, physically at least."

"But not mentally, is that what you're saying?"

"Severus, Harry isn't insane, he just doesn't know who he is, or what he is. He doesn't remember Hogwarts or the fact that he's a wizard, but the fact remains that he will need constant care until his memories start to come back. He can't even attend classes they way he is now. I think it's best that he be sent to St. Mungo's for a while."

"NO!" Snape paced the office, surprised at his own vehemence. "No, I won't send him away as though this is some sort of punishment! He needs to stay somewhere where he'll be safe."

"He can't stay in the infirmary indefinitely," said Poppy. "And I doubt his relatives would be capable of looking after him in this state."

"Harry is not going anywhere near those people ever again and he is not leaving Hogwarts."

Not leaving me.

"So what do you suggest, Severus? He can't stay in the dorms by himself."

"Harry will be staying with me."

Poppy laughed. "I'm sorry, Severus. For a moment there I thought you said that Harry would be staying with you."

"I did say that."

"What? Have you asked the headmaster about this?"

"Of course. It's all official, the headmaster has it all arranged with the Ministry. I'm to be Harry's new guardian, he won't ever have to go back to the Dursleys."

"How did you wangle that?" asked Poppy, sounding impressed.

"You know that I was giving Harry therapy before this?"

Poppy nodded.

"I didn't tell Albus what Harry had told me about his time with the Dursleys, but I dropped enough hints that he realised the Dursleys had been abusing Harry for years. Both of them are now in Azkaban awaiting trial for what they did to Harry. I also may have mentioned that if Harry were to be sent anywhere other than Hogwarts, I would resign my post, both as a teacher and as a spy."

"Blackmail, Severus? I'm surprised at you," but she was smiling.

"It worked, though, didn't it?"

"Will you be able to cope?" asked Poppy then.

"It's Harry," replied Snape. "Of course I will."

***

"Harry, are you awake?" a voice whispered beside his bed.

"Professor Snape?" Harry struggled to sit him, his vision blurry. It was dark outside and he could hardly see anything in the lamplight. He fumbled on the nightstand for his glasses and put them on, seeing the tall, dark haired man smile at him.

"That's the first time you remembered you wear glasses."

"Oh," said Harry, eyeing the large paper bag Snape was holding.

"I brought you some clothes, you're being released today."

"I've nowhere else to go." Harry wondered how he would cope away from the familiar surroundings of the infirmary and away from Madam Pomfrey's care.

"Yes, you do. I've been appointed your guardian, you will be living with me until you're ready to go back to the dorms."

"So I guessed right, then? My parents are dead?"

"Yes, Harry. They died when you were a baby."

"I see. I'll be living with you, then?"

"Only if you want to, or we can arrange something else."

"No, that's fine. Thank you, sir. I appreciate what you are doing for me." Harry played with a loose thread on the coverlet. Had he been totally off base after all, was the love that Harry thought he saw in the man's eyes not desire at all, but care, as for a son? He was so confused and wished he could remember. For he knew that he felt desire when in the man's presence.

Professor Snape left him to get dressed, pulling a privacy curtain around the bed. Feeling a little excited that he would get to wear clothes again rather than hospital gowns, Harry delved into the bag. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a pale blue t-shirt, then emptied the bag on the bed, watching as a pair of plain white underwear and white socks tumbled out.

Everything fitted him perfectly and he wondered how the professor knew his size so well. He was even more confused, was his earlier guess correct, that the two of them had been intimate with each other? He sighed and jumped down from the bed, trying to remember things only gave him a headache. He hoped that Madam Pomfrey was right and that his memories would return of their own accord eventually.

Harry stepped out from behind the curtain, clad in his new outfit and no shoes on his feet. He didn't know where his shoes were. Professor Snape stared at him as if he'd never seen him before, had never seen him dressed like this before.

"Well, professor, do I scrub up well or what?"

"Acceptable," drawled the man in a voice so deep it sent shivers up and down Harry's spine. That settled the matter for Harry. The two of them had to be lovers. Why else would the man's voice affect him so? Harry found himself staring at the man's full mouth, wondering when they'd last kissed and how soon they might do it again.

He couldn't remember it, but that didn't mean he didn't want to try it again and this time Harry was determined he would do it right.

He was never going to let the man go.

TBC

Chapter Ten


When Harry heard that he'd be living with Snape in his quarters, he hadn't imagined that those same quarters would be dungeons. Cold, damp dungeons with no windows. As both of them entered the living room, fire flared to life in the grate and torches on the walls flickered alight. Madam Pomfrey and Snape had already told him that Hogwarts was a school for magic, but until that moment, Harry hadn't really believed it.

"Am I wizard too?" he asked the man beside him.

"Yes, Harry. You won't be fully qualified until you take your NEWTs though. You would have taken them next year if..."

"If I hadn't gone crazy?"

"You're not crazy, Harry. You've just forgotten some things."

"A lot of things," said Harry softly and sat down on the floral sofa. It was a position that seemed at once familiar and totally new. His eyes were drooping and he thought he might just fall asleep there and then. Why was he so tired all the time? Surely memory loss had nothing to do with fatigue, did it?

"Let me show you to your room and you can get to sleep. We'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow."

"Won't you have classes?"

"No, it's the first day of the Easter holidays, you'll have me all to yourself for the next two weeks."

"I'd like that," purred Harry, licking his lips.

Snape cleared his throat. "Well, yes - er - the bathroom's through here," he pushed open a wooden door and continued to the next one. "This is your room."

Harry stood and followed him, looking over Snape's shoulder into the room. A large four poster, draped in black velvet curtains stood in the middle of the room like a ship at anchor. It would have held ten people comfortably. Harry wondered if they had ever shared it and found himself anticipating rolling around under the black velvet quilt on the bed with the man beside him.

Snape turned, looking very surprised at how close Harry was standing to him. Harry moved back just a little, so that they were no longer almost touching. "My bedroom's next door if you need anything," said Snape. Harry spied a wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. "I took the liberty of sending for your things."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, tiredness replaced by a curiosity of what was in the trunk. Would seeing his own things help his memories come back?

"Harry, I thought - maybe - just when we're in private, that you might call me Severus?"

"Severus, then," smiled Harry as the man bade him goodnight.

Harry was too eager to explore the contents of the trunk to even think of sleeping yet. He yanked the lid up and trawled through the meagre possessions within. Two sets of a school uniform, two black robes with what he now knew to be a school crest on the lapels, and one finer green robe. Down the side he discovered a wand. A magic wand. His? He lifted it out and felt a tingle up and down his arm, was that his magic? Books, quills, inkbottles, parchment, a strange contraption hidden in a sock, it looked like a child's spinning top, but Harry didn't think that's what it was. More clothes, but these were far too large for him, most of them patched and torn. Did he have an older brother? Was his family poor, was that why most of his clothes were in such a state? A silvery cloak was folded neatly at the bottom along with a red photo album.

He sat down cross-legged on the floor and opened the book. The pictures inside were moving. A wedding of a red haired woman and a black haired man wearing glasses like his, were they his parents? The brown haired girl was there too, along with the red haired boy and the giant man. They all waved and smiled at him, even the photos of what he assumed to be his younger self, but it was like looking at a book of strangers. He didn't remember any of them. Harry spent over an hour looking at all the pictures, trying to will himself to remember something, to remember them, but he gave up and closed the book with a snap.

There were no pyjamas in his trunk, so he just removed his t-shirt and jeans and slept in his underwear, wondering if the fact that there were no pyjamas meant that he didn't normally wear them or that they'd just been forgotten when Snape brought his trunk down. He sighed as he settled himself on the large bed. Maybe he'd dream of who he was.

***

When Poppy had asked Snape if he would be able to cope with looking after Harry, they'd forgotten that Harry was still connected to Voldemort through his scar. No amount of skin regeneration spells had removed it, it was a magical injury, not a physical one.

For the first three nights that Harry stayed with him, Snape had to hold Harry down while he fought the effects of the Cruciatus curses, Voldemort had been having fun. Afterwards Harry would look at him, as though surprised to find Snape in the bedroom with him. He drank Snape's painkilling potions and sedatives without complaint though, only asking what had happened when it was daylight again.

Harry had asked what was happening to him and Snape gradually told him all about Voldemort and what had happened to his parents. The boy would nod, accepting the facts as Snape knew them, but he didn't seem to be angry or affected by the news at all. Perhaps because he couldn't really remember it?

On the fourth day, over breakfast, Snape handed Harry a leather bound notebook. "An early birthday present," said Snape. "It's a journal. I thought you might like to write down anything you remember or maybe record your dreams. Whatever you want to write, really."

"Thank you, Severus. That's a really thoughtful gift. I haven't got you a present, though."

"You getting better is all the present I would need, Harry.

"About that..." began Harry.

"Yes?"

"Is there some magic you can use, some spell to help my memories come back?"

Snape set down his coffee cup, trying not to spill any. He had thought about it, thought about it a lot, but what he was considering doing while not exactly Dark Magic wasn't exactly Light either. Definitely shades of grey though. He could go into Harry's mind, his memories were still there in his subconscious, they were only hidden from his conscious mind. Once there, he could force Harry's memories to the surface, but all of them would be forced out and Harry would have to confront everything at once. His parents' deaths, his abuse at the hands of the Dursleys and whatever had happened to him the night he got burned to cause his amnesia in the first place. No-one had ever attempted such a thing because of the very real risk that it would drive the subject to insanity.

"I don't know, Harry. No-one has ever attempted it before. There's a risk you would go insane if we even tried it."

"But you can do the spell?" asked Harry hopefully.

"In theory, at least. Any Occlumens could try."

"Would you, would you do it for me?"

"Harry, if we were to attempt this," Dear Merlin, what was he saying? He wasn't thinking of actually doing this, risking this, was he? "There are some things you should know."

"Like what?"

"Like the reason your memories disappeared in the first place. Your mind was trying to protect you from some terrible things, things that had happened to you. By doing this, you will be forced to confront all of your memories at once, the good and the bad. Are you sure you'll be able to cope with that? This will not be pleasant for you."

Harry nodded, although he seemed a little pale. "I want you to try, please." Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice. "Before we do, though, can I ask you something?"

"You can, it doesn't mean I will answer though."

"Are we - were we lovers?" Harry asked in a rush.

"Gods no! Whatever gave you that impression?"

"The way I feel when I'm with you. The way you look at me." Harry's green eyes sought his and Snape wondered how it was that he had let his guard down so that Harry could see how he felt about the young man in front of him.

"Harry," Snape said softly. "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll understand if you wish to stay elsewhere. I will not force my presence on you if you do not wish it."

"No, I'm not uncomfortable, far from it. But you and me," Harry waved a hand around the room. "It's forbidden, isn't it?"

"You remember that?"

"Sometimes things just come to me," nodded Harry. "But if it wasn't, would you want to be with me?"

Severus Snape was a man of flesh, blood and bone, not stone no matter how much he sometimes wished it.

"I do. I want you with all my heart."

***

Harry went to his room after Snape's little revelation and Snape wondered why on earth he'd been so foolish as to tell the boy how he felt about him. Harry would have little reason to trust him now. A few hours later, Harry emerged from the bedroom, headed straight to the bathroom without acknowledging Snape's presence.

When Harry came out, his face was scrubbed pink, as if he'd been crying and thought that washing his face would disguise the fact. It only made it blatantly more obvious to Snape and he wished that he hadn't been the cause of Harry's distress.

"I want you to do it," said Harry. "I want you to do the spell to get my memories back. I can't go on like this, not knowing."

"Even if the knowing meant you would have to face up to some things that you haven't up until now?"

"I didn't murder someone did I?"

"No. These are things that happened to you Harry, not what you did."

"Bad things?"

"Yes, Harry. They were bad. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure. I have to know everything."

"Very well, we will attempt the spell tomorrow."

"Why tomorrow? Why can't we do it now?"

"Tomorrow is the spring solstice, better magic for the spell," Snape lied. It didn't really matter when he performed the spell, but he needed the extra time to wrap his head around the fact that he was actually going to it.

"Oh, right," replied a chastened Harry. "Thank you, Severus, for everything." Harry stood on tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to Snape's cheek.

Snape wondered if the boy would be so easy with his thanks of he ended up in the closed wards at St. Mungo's if the spell didn't work.

When Harry returned to his bedroom again, Snape's hands felt his cheeks almost as if he could still feel the imprint of Harry's kiss on his skin.

The spell could not fail.



Chapter Eleven


Harry tried his best to get to sleep that night, thinking that a good night's rest could only help when they tried to do the spell the next day, but sleep just wouldn't come. He spent the night staring at the canopy above the bed, counting threads and trying to will himself asleep. He felt so tired, but sleep evaded him. When he heard movement in the living room, he guessed it must be morning and he decided to get up. He pulled on one of his school robes over his underwear, thinking it would be suitable enough to cover him until he had a shower and then he could get dressed.

Snape was sitting on one of the armchairs, the torches down low, holding a book in his lap, but he didn't seem to be reading. He looked up when he sensed Harry. "You couldn't sleep either?" he asked, he face paler than moonlight. Snape was dressed in a pair of black pyjama bottoms, but either he'd forgotten to put on the top or he didn't normally wear one and Harry's eyes were drawn to the man's pale chest. There were a smattering of hairs around his nipples and a thin trail leading down from his navel to dip beneath the trousers. Harry's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

The Dark Mark seemed even more vivid against the paleness of Snape's skin and Harry wondered if it had hurt when Snape was branded with it. Considering what little he now knew of Voldemort, he guessed it had. It was the first time Harry had seen the Dark Mark since he'd lost his memory, but Snape had told him about when he'd told Harry all about Voldemort. Snape was looking at him expectantly and then he remembered he'd been asked a question. It took a few moments before his mind got in gear enough to answer it.

"No, I can't sleep either. What time is it?"

"Just after three. Would you like something to drink?"

"What, like hot milk and biscuits?"

"If you want," Snape charmed a bookmark to keep his place and set his book down on the floor beside his chair.

Harry sat down on the floor next to him, tucking his legs under him and leaning on his elbow, looking up at Snape.

"No, I just want to talk."

Snape tensed, his fingers gripping the arm of his chair. "Talk? About what?"

"About what you said. How you feel about me."

"I knew I shouldn't have told you that. There's nothing to be done, Harry. We can't be together and that's all there is to it. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Is that all you can say? In one breath you tell me that you're in love with me and the next we can't be together, it's stupid!"

"It's the law," Snape said softly, but his hand reached out to pet Harry's hair.

"Well, it's a stupid law," croaked Harry. He looked up into those dark eyes and felt himself floating. "I want to be with you," whispered Harry, getting up and kneeling directly in front of Snape. Snape's eyes glittered hungrily and Harry knew that one push and he could have what he wanted.

"You are with me," replied Snape, the hand in Harry's hair lowering to caress his cheek, his neck and Harry couldn't stop the moan of pleasure from emerging. Harry's eyes fluttered closed, he could feel his blood throughout every part of his body, most especially at his groin and he shifted so that he was nearer Snape's chair, without actually being in it.

Suddenly he felt himself being lifted and he ended up sprawled in Snape's lap, his knees either side of Snape's thighs, a firm hardness against his own. Snape's lips sought his, kissing Harry like he was being possessed, being devoured. Snape's hands seemed to be everywhere at once, on his back, in his hair, on his face. Harry kissed back eagerly, pushing his body into Snape's feeling the world dwindle to just this, to Snape's body, Snape's lips and he didn't want anything else, just this, just Snape.

All too soon, Snape pulled away from their kisses and sat there, his arms around Harry's waist, gasping.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I should never have kissed you like that. It won't happen again." Snape stood, lifting Harry with him and set Harry down on the floor. Harry just gaped at him.

Was the man insane? How could he just stop what they'd been doing? When all Harry wanted to do was continue? He was so hard he ached and he tried to hold on to the man beside him. Snape took his arms and held Harry away from him.

"Harry, no, we can't. We can't do this. Not like this."

Hope flickered in Harry's chest at his words and kindled when he saw the desire in the man's eyes.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked breathlessly. He could still taste Snape on his lips. He wanted more.

"You don't know who you are, Harry. You don't know who I am. If we gave into this now, I'd be taking advantage of you. I can't do that do you."

"Oh, God!" moaned Harry. "How can you be so bloody controlled when all I want to do is touch you, feel you? I want you to make love to me."

"You think that, now. But it's just hormones, Harry. What if you regret it after your memories come back? What if you don't like your memories of me? We hated each other for a long time, you know."

"I won't regret it, Severus. Please. Can't I have at least one good memory from this? Is that too much to ask?" Harry turned to face the fireplace, wrapping his robe close about him, feeling hot and shivery all at once. His erection didn't seem to want to disappear. Snape didn't answer him, but Harry could sense the man standing next to him. Harry curled in on himself, trying to ease the ache in his cock. "God, it hurts," he said hoarsely.

"Harry, I'm sorry," said Snape, pressing a hand to Harry's shoulder.

Harry shook it off. "Don't! Just don't touch me!" Harry fled to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Once there, he sank to the floor, leaning his head against the door, his hands diving underneath his robes and grabbing his erection firmly in his fist. It didn't take much for the orgasm to overwhelm him, tears flowing down his cheeks in tandem with the seed spurting from his cock. His body was sated, but Harry couldn't say the same for his heart.

He grimaced at the sticky mess on his hands on belly, feeling sick and empty inside.

***

Snape somehow managed to get some sleep on the sofa. He woke with a crick in his neck from the awkward angle he'd been lying in and a pain in his chest at what had almost happened the night before. It had taken all of his control to turn Harry down, no matter that he knew it was the right decision. Not only was there Harry's memories or lack of them to contend with, he was in a position of trust over the boy and he knew he would never be able to forgive himself for abusing that trust, no matter how eager Harry at seemed at the time. He was a sixteen year old boy, with hormones all over the place and Snape knew that if he'd allowed it to continue, Harry would never forgive him when he'd calmed down enough to realise what they'd done.

He ordered breakfast from the house elves and when it arrived, he knocked on Harry's door, unsure of how they should treat each other now. He'd rejected Harry's advances, but would Harry know that a rejection of his advances were not in fact a rejection of him? Snape had been in the boy's mind enough with Occlumency to know that Harry felt things a lot deeper than people his age usually did. He just hoped that he hadn't added more to the boy's burdens.

If they tried the spell today, Snape knew there would be more than enough of them for Harry to deal with.

Snape just hoped that he would be strong enough to deal with the aftermath.

"Are you awake?" asked Snape of the cold door. "Breakfast's ready."

"Thanks. I'll be out in a minute." Harry's voice sounded flat. Not angry, just resigned. Snape sighed and sat down by the table. They'd have to face each other eventually but he wondered if he'd done irreparable damage last night, when all he'd been trying to do was the right thing.

Harry emerged from the bedroom, wearing his school uniform, but not a robe. Had Harry done that deliberately to disconcert him? Snape didn't need reminding that Harry was his student, that knowledge was imprinted on his brain already.

Harry saw him staring. "I didn't want to wear the hand-me-downs, these are the only other things that fit me," he explained. "Severus - professor, I want to apologise for my behaviour last night."

Apologise? When Harry had done nothing wrong, Snape was the one who had initiated their kiss. Harry had just looked so tempting sitting there, his eyes glimmering in the lantern light and Snape had so wanted a taste of those lips. Maybe it was because it had been the middle of the night and they were both tired, but for whatever reason his resolve went out the window as soon as Harry looked at him.

"Harry, you have nothing to apologise for. I kissed you. I betrayed the trust you had in me. I'm supposed to be looking after you, not seducing you!"

"You didn't seduce me," said Harry calmly. "You stopped, I don't know that I would have been able to say no to you, things were too intense with me. I've had time to think about it, you were right. If we are going to do this, I want to do it properly, when I know who we both are, not just who we've been for these past few weeks."

"Harry, even if your memories come back, you know we can't do this. You will still be my student and it is against wizarding law and I will do nothing that will get you in trouble." Snape wasn't worried about himself, he could cope with a stint in Azkaban, after all he'd done it before hadn't he? No, but he couldn't bear that Harry would suffer that fate when he came of age.

"So what are you saying? That you love me but you won't make love to me?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Harry. Do you think this is easy for me? You don't know how much I want to give into this, to be with you the way you want me to, but we can't. It's impossible. I'm sorry."

"God, Severus, what are we going to do?" Harry slumped in his chair, running fingers through already tousled hair. "It hurts, knowing that we feel like this about each other but can't do anything about it. How do we cope with this?"

"We take one day at a time, Harry. That's all we can do and maybe hope that one day we get a reasonable Minister for Magic who would consider changing the laws."

Snape stood up and opened his arms. Harry looked at him, wide-eyed. "There's no law against hugs, Harry."

For a moment he thought Harry would refuse that small comfort, all that Snape could give, but Harry bounded up from his chair and wrapped his arms so tight around Snape's waist he thought he might have to prise the boy off with a crowbar. Snape rested his hands on the small of Harry's back, thinking how perfect it felt to have Harry in his arms. They fitted together.

"I'm scared, Severus," Harry said, his voice muffled against Snape's chest.

"Harry, we don't have to perform the spell if you don't want to, we can wait until your memories come back naturally."

Harry's glasses were pressing uncomfortably against his ribs, but Snape just held on to Harry even tighter. He would not let go until Harry wanted to.

"No, I want to do the spell," said Harry. "I'm just afraid that if it doesn't work I won't remember you. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't lose me, Harry. I promise." Snape kissed the top of Harry's head, both of them seeming unwilling to let the other go. "But first, breakfast," said Snape with a jollity he didn't really feel.

"I'm not hungry," said Harry, stepping away from Snape's embrace. "I just want to get it over with. Please, can we just do the spell?"

"Very well, Harry. It's probably best if you sit down or lie down for this."

"Okay," replied Harry, wandering over to the sofa and sat down, perched on the edge.

"Sit right back, Harry. This may take a while and you need to be as comfortable as you can."

Harry nodded and scooted so that his back and head were resting against the cushions at the rear of the sofa. He was so short that his legs dangled, his feet not even reaching the floor. It brought it into sharp focus how young Harry was and Snape felt his heart break anew at all the terrible things that had happened to Harry in his short life. It wasn't fair, but Snape knew that life was anything but that, he had the scars to prove it.

"Ready?" Snape asked him and when Harry nodded, Snape cast the spell. "Memorius Peto."

In an instant Snape was immersed in Harry's memories, it was like watching a film on fast forward, it wasn't linear, each memory was random, sometimes going from the Dursleys to school to Voldemort in the blink of an eye. Snape hadn't reckoned on Harry's skills either, as he was accessing Harry's memories, trying to push them to the surface, Harry was accessing his and the two sets of memories combined, joined. It was chaos, confusion, a whirl of colour and sound. Pain, betrayal, fear, but hope and love were there too.

At last the maelstrom slowed down and Snape saw Harry's memories up to the moment before he cast the spell. He was thrust from Harry's mind and Snape staggered back from the sofa. Harry was on the floor, on his hands and knees, retching.

Snape knelt down beside him, rubbing Harry's back until the dry heaves subsided. Harry clawed at his head, knocking his glasses onto the floor with a soft thunk.

"Make it stop, make it stop!" pleaded Harry, his voice high-pitched and raw.

"Gods, Harry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Snape wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. "It's over, Harry, the spell's finished."

A gasp from the boy beneath him

"P -professor? Severus?"

"Harry? Do you know who you are? Where you are?"

"It's all right, Severus. I remember. I remember everything." Harry moved, trying to straighten up, so Snape reluctantly let go and stood up. He helped Harry to his feet, the relief coursing through his veins.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" asked Snape.

"Now, now, professor, we haven't got a therapy session scheduled today, have we?" Harry grinned at him, the calmness shining from the boy's eyes seeming so different to the lost boy Harry had been before his accident.

"Harry, you seem different," mused Snape. "Stronger, somehow. I thought the spell might have made you even more damaged, what happened?"

"You mean why aren't I a cowering wreck searching for a cupboard to hide in somewhere?"

"I wouldn't put it exactly like that, but - er - yes."

"It was the spell, it forced me to confront my memories, to face up to things I had tried to hide from myself. You helped me, when I accidentally accessed your memories, you gave me the strength to face everything, I could feel how much you cared for me. By seeing my memories through your eyes, I knew that what had happened to me wasn't my fault, I'd been blaming myself for everything for years. I'll want to talk with you about some things, but not today. Thank you, Severus. Thank you."

Harry started to walk towards him, but Snape pre-empted him, marching to Harry and grabbing him in a bone-crushing embrace. Harry pulled away after a few moments, breathless.

"We need Hermione," he panted. "I know how we can destroy Voldemort."




Chapter Twelve


Harry waited silently on the couch while Snape firecalled the Gryffindor common room, almost scaring Colin Creevy out of his wits when he saw whose head was in the fire. Harry stifled a giggle. God, when was the last time he even felt like laughing, never mind do it?

"Mr. Creevy, please inform Miss Granger that her presence is requested in my chambers as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir, right away sir," gabbled Colin and dashed away to find Hermione, Harry assumed.

Snape turned to Harry, his gaze unreadable. He quirked an eyebrow. "So, are you going to tell me how you think you can defeat Voldemort?"

"We'll need Hermione," said Harry, wondering how much he could reveal to Snape without getting Hermione into trouble. "Um - Hermione's been studying soul magic," Harry said in a breathless rush.

"She's been studying what?" Snape's complexion paled even further if that was even possible. "Those books are in the Restricted section and only seventh years have access to them. Have I missed something? Has Miss Granger completed her sixth year at Hogwarts without anyone else noticing?"

"They are usually only for seventh years, yes," agreed Harry. "Unless the student has a pass from a teacher."

"A teacher? Who would be so idiotic, so foolish as to allow a sixth year access to that magic? Well?"

"Erm, Professor Flitwick."

"I see. Is she competent at least?" Snape asked then and Harry felt a strange relief, as though the worst was over.

"I would think so, she takes this very seriously."

The outer office door knocked, Snape sighed and went to answer it. A few minutes later, Hermione entered, looking very sad and subdued. "Hello, Harry. Do you remember me? I visited you in the infirmary?"

Harry ran to her and hugged his friend. "It's okay, Hermione. I'm okay. I remember everything now." Hermione sobbed with relief and slumped against him. Harry had to struggle to hold her up. "Hermione, it's okay. I've told Professor Snape about you studying soul magic, we need your help to defeat Voldemort."

Hermione disentangled herself from Harry and glanced at Professor Snape and then at Harry again. "We need you to help so that we can contain Voldemort's soul."

Snape raised his eyebrows in question.

"Harry, that wouldn't work unless you can get near enough to the vessel housing the soul. You'd be dead before Voldemort would allow you to even try. He's guarded by Death Eaters day and night, you'd never get near enough before he'd kill yous" said Hermione.

"I concur with Miss Granger, Harry. I've never heard a more senseless plan."

Snape would think that, Harry rolled his eyes at him.

"That's just it, Hermione. The body of the creature called Voldemort doesn't contain his soul. Voldemort's soul is here, in Hogwarts."

"What?" both Hermione and Snape asked together.

"I think you'd both better sit down, this is going to sound a little crazy."

Snape snorted and sat down on an armchair, Harry joined Hermione when she sat down on the sofa.

"That night I got burned, I got lost." Harry twisted his hands, wondering how to explain. It even sounded crazy to him and he was there.

"Has this anything to do with those red robed figures I saw in your memories?" asked Snape gently. Harry had the impression that Snape wanted to hold him, but was keeping himself in check because Hermione was there. Harry found himself feeling pleased at the notion, even though neither of them could do anything about it.

"Yes, they're the ones who burned me." Snape settled himself in an armchair.

"But why?" asked Hermione, grasping Harry's hand in hers. "Who are they?"

"Not who, more what," explained Harry. "They were created by Tom Riddle while he was at school here. He used discarded scales from the Basilisk to create them. They called themselves the 'vessels' and the 'guardians'."

"The vessels of Voldemort's soul?" Snape didn't sound as though he believed it. Harry didn't blame him, it sounded far fetched even to him.

"Yes, each of them holds a piece of Voldemort's soul. It's why he wasn't completely destroyed before, the body he was in didn't have his soul in it. He will come back again and again unless we can destroy his soul, not the body he's now in."

"How do you know all this, Harry?" Hermione patted his hand, as though she was just humouring someone crazy.

"They were created from a Basilisk. Sometimes they spoke in Parseltongue. I don't think they knew I could understand it, even if they were holding his soul."

"Harry, why did they hurt you? Burn you?"

"Miss Granger," warned Snape. "I do not believe that enquiry is entirely appropriate at the moment."

"I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay, Hermione. I'm not upset. I think Severus is a little over protective of me at times," Harry smiled at him, more pleased than he cared to admit that Severus was indeed protective of him. Hermione was gaping at Harry, then staring at Snape and coming back to stare at Harry.

"You call him by his name?"

"Only in private," admitted Harry. "As to why they burned me, I broke a pact that Riddle had made with them and the Basilisk. He'd promised that no other student besides himself would be able to get in to the Chamber of Secrets. I was being punished for what happened when I was twelve, entering the Chamber and killing the Basilisk."

"Their parent," nodded Snape, seeming to find at least that explanation somewhat plausible.

"I suppose," Harry shuddered as he remembered the pain of that night. He'd thought he was going to die. "Please, I don't want to talk about what they did to me. Will you help us, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded.

"Harry, I'm still not sure what you expect us to do," commented Snape.

Harry turned to Hermione again. "Do you have it with you, Hermione?" asked Harry. Hermione nodded her head and searched her pockets, bringing out a small blue wooden box. It was unadorned except for a series of runes carved on the lid and for once in all the time Harry had known him, Severus looked absolutely gobsmacked.

"Is that a soul box?" he asked in awe.

"Yes, sir," replied Hermione, holding it in the palm of her hand like something delicate.

"May I?" asked Snape, holding out his hand to Hermione. She handed him the box. "The craftsmanship is exquisite, eighteenth century I believe?"

"Yes sir, it belonged to one of my ancestors. My mother gave it to me for my birthday, but she didn't know what it was. I knew it was something magical because of the runes. That's how I started learning about soul magic."

"I'm starting to see where this is going," said Snape, his gaze wandering to Harry. "You want us to extract Voldemort's soul from these creatures and contain it in this box?"

"Well, that was the plan," said Harry.

"You do understand, Miss Granger, that if we succeed your soul box will have to be destroyed in order to destroy the soul within?"

"I know, sir. Anything to help Harry get rid of Voldemort."

"And Harry, I know what you want us to do, any inkling on how we achieve it?"

"By using love," said Harry simply. "Voldemort has no defences against it. He feeds on anger, hate, fear, despair but he can't stand love because he has never received it or felt it himself. It weakens him, destroys him, he can't bear the touch of it. I need you, Severus, to join our minds, our magic to defeat him. Hermione will stay here as our anchor."

"Our anchor?" repeated Snape. "Then you mean to do more than join our minds and our magic, Harry. You intend to join our souls?"

"Only if you agree to that, Severus. Two souls joined in love would be able to breach his defences that much quicker, wouldn't they?"

Hermione sucked in a deep breath. Snape paused for one heartbeat, two, three and Harry thought that maybe he'd made a mistake. Perhaps Severus' feelings for him weren't as deep as Harry had thought. Just when Harry was about to give up, Snape spoke.

"Harry James Potter, you have accorded me a great honour and I am pleased to accept your pledge."

Hermione burst into happy tears and hugged Harry so tight that he couldn't breathe. Snape's formal answer was setting off little alarm bells in his head. "Er, what just happened?"

"You dolt!" sobbed Hermione in his ear. "Don't you ever read anything? Asking someone to join souls with you is tantamount to a marriage proposal! Professor Snape has accepted, you're practically engaged!" She sobbed even louder.

"What?" squawked Harry. "How can we be engaged? The Ministry wouldn't allow that, would they?"

"Miss Granger would be correct if we were witch and wizard, Harry, as a soul binding in that instance would be considered a legal marriage. Since we are both wizards, our bond would not be legally recognised, however there is nothing to prevent us from making a soul bond. If it was discovered that we did indeed share such a bond, the ramifications don't bear thinking about. I trust to your discretion, Miss Granger?"

"Of course, sir," said Hermione, letting go of Harry, who could finally breathe easily again. "Oh, it's so romantic!"

Snape arched an eyebrow at her and she blushed. Harry was more confused than ever. Why had Snape agreed to the bond if it wasn't allowed, after rejecting Harry's advances the night before? Did that mean that once they were bonded, he would allow them to make love too, as long as they were discreet? He suddenly wished the two of them were alone to discuss it.

"Why did you agree?" asked Harry as he made his way over to Snape's chair. He knelt down in front of it, his arms leaning on the arms of the chair. Snape looked over Harry's shoulder to Hermione, who as ever knew how to be tactful.

"May I use your bathroom, sir?"

"First door on the left." Hermione thanked Snape and Harry listened as her footsteps echoed on the flagstones. He giggled when he heard the door close. Hermione may have been tactful, but he knew she was also nosey.

"You do realise," he said to Snape. "That she will probably be listening at the door to everything we say?"

Snape muttered a silencing charm around both of them and folded his arms across his chest, in an 'So there' sort of gesture. Harry couldn't help giggling again.

"Why did you say yes?" Harry asked once he'd calmed down enough to form the question. "After everything you said about the laws?"

"I love you, Harry and you were right. The laws are stupid and unfair. We get little enough chance of happiness, I've decided to take some for myself for a change, even if I have to break that law to do it. I'll understand if you want to change your mind, you didn't really know what you were asking."

"Does it mean I get to spend eternity with you?"

"It does."

"Then, no, I won't be changing my mind. I love you and I am never letting you go. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid. You said you thought the laws were unfair, does that mean we can..."

"Harry, if you can't say it, you've no business doing it."

"All right, does that mean we can make love?"

"After we're bonded and when Voldemort's gone, yes, we can. You never know, by that time Miss Granger's petition may have done some good."

"You know about that?"

"Yes, I was one of the first ones to sign it."

Harry grinned up at his intended. "Voldemort's not going to stand a chance, is he?"

"No, Harry. Not a chance in hell," said Snape bending down to brush his lips briefly against Harry's.

***

Amelia Bones, Minister of Records sorted through her morning post. Births, marriages, deaths and adoption papers all received her stamp of approval before they were archived in the Room of Records. She paused when she came across a thick cream envelope, postmarked Hogwarts. She knew it couldn't have been exam papers, they didn't come in until June.

She opened it, smiling as she read the letter from Hermione Granger, a student from Hogwarts and her smile widened when she saw the accompanying petition. Hermione's arguments were ones that she herself had used on Minister Fudge on plenty of occasions, only to be ignored time and time again. The sex laws were outmoded, oppressive and prejudiced against certain members of society.

Fudge was a prude, a misogynist and homophobe to boot, it was high time the laws were changed to reflect the way wizarding society was not the way Fudge wanted it to be. There were five hundred signatures on the petition, Amelia was impressed with the girl's persuasive skills, but she didn't think the petition would sway Fudge one iota.

No, it was the photograph also in the envelope that would make Fudge change the laws.

As she pushed open the door to the Minister of Magic's office, Amelia's smirk would have rivalled Snape's for sheer, malicious glee.



Chapter Thirteen


"Come on, Harry, I know you can hear me."

Harry floated in the darkness, willing his eyes to open. It felt as though they'd been glued shut. His eyelids just didn't want to move apart. He struggled, trying to reach the owner of the voice, knowing instinctively that he would be safe if only he could wake. His body had other ideas, however, and the voice drifted away, leaving Harry in darkness once again.

Sometimes he dreamed of hands touching him, washing him, feeding him, giving him medicines, but they were never the hands he wanted, the hands he needed. They were always feminine hands with a hint of sickly sweet perfume that would have made him gag if he'd been fully conscious.

Each time he heard the voice, his voice, Harry would try his hardest to bestir himself and wake up. He wanted to wake up.

"Harry, I know you're in there. You can't leave me now."

"S - Severus," he gasped, his voice working even if his eyes weren't co-operating.

"Poppy! He's awake!"

Harry heard running footsteps and could smell that same perfume. "Madam Pomfrey? My eyes, I can't open my eyes."

"Ssh, Harry, it's all right. Your eyes are fine now, Harry. We just had to wait until the spell wore off. The bandages were maybe on a little too tight, that's why it feels as if you can't open them. Just relax and we'll have them removed in a jiffy."

Harry felt a hand clasp his and Severus' voice close to his ear. "Don't worry, Harry, everything's going to be fine."

The memories came rushing back to Harry in a flood, how he and Severus had joined souls in order to defeat Voldemort, the inhuman cries of the creatures as the souls were removed, the final one casting a spell on Harry's eyes so that he would be unable to see what he was doing. It hadn't mattered. To do what had to be done, Harry hadn't needed sight.

His and Severus' combined Legilimency had removed the final part of the Dark Lord's soul, containing it and then destroying it in the very cauldron the creatures had immersed Harry in. Without Voldemort's soul animating them, the creatures reverted to their true form, nothing more than grey Basilisk scales.

When he and Severus had first joined souls, Harry had been surprised that when they were in each other's mind, he didn't feel two separate identities, Harry and Severus, it felt as though they were both one with the other. A singular soul, two halves joined as one. True soul mates.

Harry felt hands unwrapping his bandages, but he couldn't smell Madam Pomfrey's perfume. The scent of the person next to him was too masculine, a familiar scent of cinnamon and mint tea. He could also feel Severus' worry and care in the back of his mind and knew that it was his husband who was removing his bandages.

"Severus. hurry up, I want to see you," said Harry with a sigh. "I'm not going to break."

"I know, I just don't want to poke you in the eye with my haste." Harry could almost imagine the man's smirk.

At last the bandages were removed, Harry blinked, trying to get his eyes used to the bright sunlight streaming through the room's windows. Madam Pomfrey fussed over him, scanning him with her wand and nodded to herself, before hurrying away.

"My glasses?" Harry asked, squinting a little. Everything was as blurry as normal. Severus put the glasses on his face, stroking a thumb along Harry's forehead, the site of where his scar used to be.

"I can't believe he's gone," said Snape. "Even though I know it's true."

Harry heard a commotion at the entrance to the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey was trying to deny Professor Dumbledore access.

"Headmaster, Harry is still very ill. He is not up to having any more visitors."

"This is not a social call, Poppy. Please stand aside, I must speak with Harry at once!"

"Very well, Headmaster, but briefly, please."

Harry sat up and Severus fluffed the pillows behind him. Dumbledore frowned at the very obviously intimate gesture.

"Severus, I need to speak to Harry alone."

"No," said Harry, reaching out and grabbing Severus' hand. "Anything you need to say to me, Severus will hear too."

"Don't you mean Professor Snape, Harry? I can't say that I approve of you addressing one of your professors so casually, even if he is your guardian."

Harry shrugged, not caring whether Dumbledore approved or not. "What did you want to see me about, Professor?"

"It's about your relatives, the Dursleys. I'm afraid that after Voldemort's demise, they were found dead in their cell at Azkaban. The deaths are being treated as suspicious by the Ministry."

"Suspicious? How did they die?"

Dumbledore glanced at Severus then back to Harry. "They died when they were given Veritaserum prior to their trial, it seems they had already been given a large dose of it already, but no Auror has admitted giving it to them." Dumbledore's gaze once again flickered to Severus.

"Thank you for telling me, Headmaster, but I can't say that I'm sorry they're gone. After what they did to me, I don't regret their death, however it came about."

"But they died without a trial, without admitting what they'd done," said Dumbledore.

"I didn't have a trial," said Harry angrily. "I was a child in their care and they abused me, but then you knew that, already, didn't you sir?"

"Yes, well, these things happens sometimes." Dumbledore stroked his beard, as if he couldn't care less what had happened to Harry. Maybe he didn't care, as long as Harry stayed alive long enough to defeat Voldemort. That's all Harry had been to Dumbledore, he realised, just a tool.

"Did you know they weren't Muggles all along?" persisted Harry. "Was that why I was sent to them? So you could keep an eye on me, even seeing what they did to me? Make sure that they didn't kill me? They had me fooled for a long time about their hatred of Magic. Shall I show you the scars of where they tried to beat it out of me? Do you want to know what Vernon did to me? He held me down and -"

"Now, now, Harry, there's no need for that. It's all in the past, now, eh? And you're a hero again!" Dumbledore patted the bedclothes, close to Harry's feet. Harry was just glad the man hadn't touched his skin.

"Get out," hissed Harry. "I never want to see you again. You knew. All along you knew what they'd been doing to me and you sent me back there every fucking year! I hate you, I hate you!" Harry gripped Severus' hand so hard that he heard a bone creak.

"Harry, you're upset, you don't mean that," said Dumbledore, refusing to leave.

"I mean every word," Harry spat at the headmaster, but his aim was slightly off, so that it landed on his magenta robes rather than his face. Dumbledore looked shocked. Severus' eyebrows shot up so far that they almost seemed part of his hair. Harry had shocked himself, but he didn't regret the action.

"Harry..." the headmaster tried again.

"You heard my husband," said Severus. "Leave us alone."

Dumbledore paled. "You're bonded? You can't be bonded to Harry, it isn't allowed!"

"Actually, Headmaster, it is," rang out another voice from the door. The three of them turned to stare at Amelia Bones, who strode purposefully towards Harry's sick bed. Once there, she produced a scroll tied with a red ribbon and handed it to Severus. "Sorry it took so long, quite a backlog you know after the laws were changed." She winked at Harry and gave a large smile to both him and Severus.

"What is that?" asked Dumbledore, pointing to the scroll in Severus' hands.

"It is our wedding certificate," replied Severus, bending down to give Harry a quick kiss.

"Yes, it is," confirmed Amelia. "I wanted to make sure to give it to you myself."

"But Harry is still a student here!" protested Dumbledore. "I cannot condone anything untoward happening between a teacher and student in my care!"

"Headmaster, Professor Snape has already assured me that the marriage won't be consummated until Harry finishes his schooling. You have nothing to worry about. Professor Flitwick has also kindly agreed to take Harry for his Potions classes, so no doubts can be cast on Harry's marks," said the Minister.

"Not that it is anyone else's business," pouted Harry, he was still upset at Snape's insistence that they wait, but he knew that Snape's integrity wouldn't allow anything else. They could still kiss though, couldn't they? God, he hoped so.

"I don't understand," said Dumbledore.

"Didn't you get my memo?" asked Amelia. "Minister Fudge has taken early retirement. The new Minister for Magic has changed the sex laws, there is nothing against same sex pairings anymore. Professor Snape and Harry's bonding is recognised as a legal marriage. I know it is unusual for a teacher and student to become bonded, but if they hadn't, Voldemort would still be here. Now Headmaster, there are a few things we need to discuss," said Amelia, hooking her arm through his and steering him out of the room before he could say anything else.

"Harry," Severus sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his fingers along the back of Harry's hand. "You're still upset with me too, aren't you? About waiting? It's only a year, Harry."

"Year and a half," replied Harry defiantly, pulling his hand out of Severus' grasp and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Gods, you're adorable when you pout," grinned Severus and dived in for a short kiss. "Have you forgotten I'm a Slytherin, Harry?" He whispered in Harry's ear. "I did indeed tell Minister Bones that we wouldn't consummate our union until you'd left school. Only one act counts as consummation, Harry. There are plenty of other things we could do."

"Other things?" Harry's throat could barely work. All the blood from his brain seemed to have travelled further south and it was difficult to think, never mind form words.

"Oh, yes. I plan to teach you all of them. In very fine detail. Kissing, touching, licking," Severus kissed Harry's earlobe.

"When Severus, when?"

"Soon, Harry. Very soon. There are a few days left of the Easter holiday and I intend to whisk you away for a short honeymoon," he promised before claiming Harry's mouth in a heated kiss.

Harry pulled his mouth away to gasp, "Why did Fudge retire?"

"Oh, a little bit of blackmail," grinned Severus against his lips. "A rather incriminating photograph came into Minister Bones' possession." Severus leaned closer to whisper in his ear what the photograph contained.

"Oh my God!" squealed Harry. "Fudge and Dolores Umbridge!"




Chapter Fourteen



Harry grabbed hold of Severus as they finished Apparating, the dizziness taking a while to pass. They appeared to be in the lounge of some sort of hotel. The walls were painted in soothing hues, comfortable sofas and chairs were dotted about, along with a selection of board games and books. A music centre and computer sat on tables around the edge of the room. Floor to ceiling picture windows overlooked snow capped mountains and forests and Harry found himself gaping in awe at the view. "Where are we?" he whispered.

There was no-one else in the lounge, where were all the other guests?

"Let's go and check in," said Snape, ignoring Harry's question. He took Harry's hand and leading them to a set of lifts in the corridor. A short drop later, they had to walk outside and to a different building to check in. "You've been here before, haven't you?" asked Harry as the receptionist checked for their reservation.

"Here you are, Mr. Snape," she handed Snape what looked like a credit card. Snape smiled at her.

"Our luggage arrived safely?"

"As usual, it's in your room. Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you, we will," said Snape, taking Harry's hand again, leading him away from the reception area and back to the lifts. Butterflies had decided to take up residence in Harry's tummy, fluttering about as much as his heart throbbed in his chest. They were going to a hotel room. Sharing a hotel room. Sharing a bed. His mouth was suddenly too dry.

Snape inserted the key card into one of the doors lining the corridor and pushed the door open. Harry was about to enter the room when Snape stopped him with a hand on his arm. Harry looked down at his skin, surprised it hadn't burned from the touch of Snape on him.

"What?" queried Harry. The only reply he received from Snape was the older, much larger man, scooping Harry up in his arms as though he weighed little more than a snitch and carrying him through the door. Snape kicked the door shut behind him with his foot and continued to carry Harry over to the bed. Harry's arms were wrapped around Snape's neck and he tucked his head under the man's chin, feeling safe and aroused at once. If anyone were to ask him to describe the room at that moment, he would not have been able to tell them.

He knew there was a bed, only because Snape lay him down on it and proceeded to kiss Harry breathless. Harry's legs fell open almost of their own accord, so that Snape could easily nestle between them. Snape nibbled on his bottom lip, causing Harry to moan and arch his back.

He felt as if he was falling, how was that possible when he was lying down? Snape's mouth moved from his lips, Harry groaned in protest. It turned into a wail of pure need as Snape trailed a series of kisses all over his face, his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids, his chin. Snape continued nibbling and kissing his way down until he got to Harry's throat. Harry arched his neck backwards so that Snape could have easier access. Snape placed a soft kiss on Harry's Adam's apple, then proceeded to suck hard there, almost as if he wanted to pull Harry's heart out through his throat.

Harry was rock hard, his jeans uncomfortably tight as he bucked his hips, noting an answering hardness in the other man's groin. "Oh, please!" he begged, fisting his hands in the bedclothes beneath him. Harry's whole body was aflame with need and he knew he couldn't last much longer with Snape's delicious kisses and touches.

Snape looked up at him, his normally pale pallor flushed with desire and want. "What do you want, Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but didn't really know how to answer. What did he want? Snape was looking at him expectantly. "I want us to be naked," he said, unable to voice his wishes any further than that. He felt a little odd about saying what he wanted to do in bed, even though they were bonded now and no-one could gainsay it due to the new laws.

"I think that can be arranged," said Snape and knelt up astride Harry. He began to undo the buttons of his shirt, one at a time, teasing Harry with each tantalising bit of skin revealed. It was far to slow for Harry. He growled and jerked upwards, toppling Snape off balance so that he ended up on top of Snape. Harry yanked the shirt apart, buttons went flying in every direction, but the glazed lust filled look in Snape's eyes indicated that he didn't really care. Harry dived down for a kiss, thrusting his tongue in Snape's mouth in counterpart to the thrusts of his groin against Snape's. He was flying, he was falling and he didn't want to stop.

Snape cupped his buttocks and tugged Harry even harder against him. Harry lost himself in the sensations of kissing Snape, Snape's agile tongue pressed against his, their lower bodies pressed together as far as they could. Snape stroked a finger against the crease of Harry's denim clad arse and it was too much. He pulled his mouth away from Snape, screaming wordlessly as he spilled himself in his jeans, his hips bucking against Snape.

Harry rolled off Snape, mortified beyond belief and rushed to the bathroom to hide.

***

Snape opened his eyes when he felt Harry's weight disappear from on top of him. "Harry?" he called, but Harry was nowhere in evidence. Snape hopped down from the bed and padded over to the bathroom door, knocking once. "Harry? Are you all right?" What had upset Harry? Were they rushing things too much? There was no answer, not that he really expected there to be. But Harry couldn't keep hiding from him when things got too much for him.

"Come on out, Harry, please." Snape heard the lock open, but Harry didn't come out. Deciding that Harry opening the door meant that he was welcome, Snape pushed the door forward. Harry was sitting on the edge of the bath, staring at the floor, his cheeks flushed red.

Snape knelt down on the tiled floor before his young husband and tilted his chin up with a pointed finger. There were dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Harry, what is it? What's wrong? Are things going too fast for you?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to what, Harry?"

"I - I didn't mean to come, but it was just so good, I couldn't stop, I'm sorry. I wanted it to be good for you too."

"Harry, it happens like that sometimes, do you hear me complaining?" Snape smiled at him.

"But it was over so soon," protested Harry and despite knowing what abuse Harry had suffered at Vernon's hands, Snape knew that Harry was till very much an innocent in so many ways.

"Who said it has to be over?" Snape waggled an eyebrow and pressed his lips against Harry's neck. "You're sixteen years old, you'll be ready to go again in no time."

"I will?" asked Harry, sounding genuinely surprised.

"You've never tried to go twice, you know - when you touch yourself?" asked Snape.

"I don't do that very often," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And when I do I always feel sick afterwards."

Oh, realisation dawned. "This is about your uncle, isn't it? What he did to you? Do you want to talk about it?"

He thought that perhaps he had been rushing things a bit with Harry. It was only three days ago that Voldemort had been defeated and barely three hours ago when Harry had been released from the infirmary. They hadn't discussed anything besides the fact how much they both wanted this honeymoon. Perhaps they should have spoken of things sooner.

"Are you asking as my husband or my therapist?" asked Harry, fiddling with a loose thread on his t-shirt.

"Whatever you want it to be, Harry. It's up to you."

"I don't want you to be a therapist, Severus. I want you to be my husband, I want us to be able to talk without feeling like you're labelling me as crazy or something."

"Harry, you can talk to me about anything you want to, I don't mind and I won't be labelling you. This is me being worried about you because I love you, not because I'm your therapist or teacher or any of that." Snape's stomach growled and he realised that neither of them had eaten anything since a light breakfast that morning. "Why don't I order us some dinner and afterwards if you want to talk, we can."

"Okay," Harry nodded. "Um - I - I'll just have a shower first." Snape gave Harry a chaste kiss on the forehead and left him to his ablutions, feeling tempted to join him in the shower but guessed that Harry wouldn't want to do anything like that yet.

He browsed the room service menu and ordered them both the roast lamb dinner, hoping that Harry would like it. Snape didn't really care what he ate, he had no great preference for one food over another, as long as there was enough. He sat down in one of the armchairs, listening to the spray of water as Harry took his shower. It was difficult not to let his thoughts wander to a very wet and very naked Harry, which did nothing to diminish his arousal. Thoughts of a certain photograph however soon dampened his ardour as if he'd been dunked in a barrel of iced water.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe and towelling his hair dry with a similar towel. Snape found his eyes drawn to those patches of skin which were visible, the curve of his throat, a small section of smooth chest, the bare legs dotted with sparse black hairs. Harry squinted at Snape, he wasn't wearing his glasses. Blinking twice, he hurried back to the bathroom, returning with the ugly round frames on his face. They only served to enhance the beauty of the boy before him.

Snape had never really allowed himself to think it before, but he indulged himself now. Harry was beautiful. From the perpetually messy hair, to the sharp cheekbones; from the soft tip of his nose to the full lips; from the deep jade eyes to the curve of long eyelashes, Harry Potter was beautiful and Snape was married to him. He wondered sometimes if he was dreaming.

Just as he was about to voice his thoughts, someone knocked on the door. Snape walked over to open it, returning with their dinner on a trolley. "I'll get dressed," said Harry once the waiter had left.

"No, leave the bathrobe on," pleaded Snape. "Is there another one?"

"On a hook behind the bathroom door."

Snape hurried to the bathroom to change, divesting himself of all his outer clothes but leaving his underwear on. He noticed Harry's clothing in a neat pile on one of the shelves, a pair of plain white boxers sitting folded on top. The thought that Harry was naked underneath the robe caused the blood to rush straight to his groin and settle there like a lead weight. He wondered if he would be able to get through dinner without flinging Harry to the bed and making them both see stars.

When he came back out, Harry had positioned himself cross legged on the bed, his bathrobe draped in such a way that no part of his legs were visible except for a pair of bony ankles. Snape found himself wondering what they would taste like. Harry was holding a plate in one hand and a fork in the other but he hadn't started eating yet.

Snape removed the other tray from the trolley and adopted a pose similar to Harry's, but rested his back against the headboard. They both ate in silence, not talking until the final morsels had been eaten from the plates and the plates had been set back on the trolley.

Snape leaned back against the headboard and lifted his arm in invitation. He thought that Harry might feel better if he was offered a comfortable touch.

***

Harry quickly dived towards Snape, leaning his head on Snape's chest and loving the feel of the man's strong arm around him. Snape began stroking his hair, twirling locks of it around his fingers.

"I don't know where to start," said Harry. "Can you maybe ask me some questions like you used to?" He tucked his head even further against Snape's body, he thought it might be easier to talk about this if he wasn't looking at him. He was surprised how difficult it was to talk about. The words were there, locked inside his chest but he didn't know where to find the key.

"Very well, Harry. Can you tell me why you felt sick after you masturbate?"

"It's not just that, it's when I come, when I have an orgasm. I'm not supposed to come."

"Harry," Snape prompted when Harry was silent for a while.

"I was almost thirteen, it was the summer before third year. Aunt Petunia was whipping me with a belt, but this time Vernon was there too. He was holding me in his lap while she hit me. I don't know what made him do it that day and not before, but he had his hand underneath me, pulling down my zip and he was touching me. He kept rubbing and pulling at me until I was hard. I didn't know what it was all about, why I was hard or what might happen. I had my first ever ejaculation over my uncle's knee while being beaten by my aunt. I was terrified, I thought there was something wrong with me. I threw up over Vernon's trousers. That earned me another beating and no meals for a week."

Harry stopped speaking, wondering if Snape hated him now after he knew what Vernon and his aunt had done to him. His upbringing wasn't exactly what you could call normal.

"And you felt sick today?" asked Snape. "That's why you ran away?"

"Yes, I was afraid I might throw up over you. When I came so suddenly, it just reminded me of that day. That was the only time Vernon touched me like that, I think he just wanted to humiliate me."

"I saw a glimpse of some things in your mind, Harry. He may not have touched you, but he still abused you. He made you touch him, didn't he?"

Harry nodded against Snape's chest, his heart feeling far too big for his chest. "He made me get him off, sometimes with my hands, sometimes he would force himself on me, in my mouth. I was always sick afterwards, it made me feel awful. In the beginning he didn't come in my mouth, he would stop and make me finish him with my hands until he came all over my sheets. I slept on the floor those nights, I couldn't bear to lie on the bed. The first time he came in my mouth, I almost choked and he just laughed at me. He didn't care. He didn't fucking care!" Harry shot up and punched the wall behind the bed. "God, I'm sorry," he sobbed out. "I thought I was over this."

Snape sat up, wrapping Harry in his arms and cradled him against his chest as Harry just let the tears flow and flow. Harry allowed himself to be comforted. The Dursleys had abused him. What had happened wasn't his fault. He wasn't dirty or shamed because of what they did. They were to blame, not him.

Feeling Snape's strong arms around him and the steady heartbeat beneath his ear, Harry thought that one day he might finally be able to believe it.




Chapter Fifteen


Harry woke the next morning in the same position he'd fallen asleep in; his head resting on Snape's chest and his lower body twined around Snape's like a clinging vine.

He glanced up and was caught in a dark gaze. It seemed his husband had already been awake for some time and was taking the opportunity to stare at Harry. Snape lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on the tip of Harry's nose. It tickled and Harry tried not to laugh. "Morning," said Snape. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," Harry clasped a hand over his mouth as he yawned. Surprisingly he had slept well, no nightmares for the first time in a long while and Harry knew it was down to the man in the bed with him. For the first time in his life he felt loved and cared for. It was a strange sensation to someone who'd been used to angry fists rather than a loving touch and starvation rather than endearments. Harry was determined to get used to being loved.

"What would you like to do today, Harry?" asked Snape, lazily stroking Harry's back with slow sweeps of his hand.

Harry leaned into the touch, he felt like purring. Snape could turn him to a puddle in a matter of moments. "Some more of that would be good and more, if you want to," he added shyly. He could feel the evidence of Snape's desire pressing into his hip and Harry suddenly felt an intense desire to give the man pleasure without worrying about his own.

"Harry, we don't have to do anything. Not if you don't want to. We can just go out and explore."

"But I do want to, Severus. I do."

Harry flung the bedclothes aside before he lost his nerve. They'd both worn only boxers to bed, it had been too warm for anything more than that, so Harry was a little surprised to find that his husband was now completely naked. When had Severus undressed completely? And how come Harry hadn't noticed?

Harry stared at the body revealed to him, wanting to memorise everything. Snape wasn't well built, he was a little on the skinny side with knobbly knees and faded scars covering his arms and legs. The only well developed muscles he had were on his biceps, probably from all the potion making. His skin was very pale, almost translucent and Harry was determined to get the man out into the sun more, now that Voldemort was no longer a threat to either of them.

Snape flushed under Harry's scrutiny, two round red blotches staining his cheeks. His eyes fluttered closed on a moan and Harry felt a heady sense of power flow through him. If he could make the man feel like that just by looking, imagine what he could do by touching.

Harry started with the soles of Snape's feet, stroking them with a finger along the whole length. Snape made a delightful mewling sound even as his feet arched away from Harry's prying touch. Harry wished he had more experience so that he could wow Snape in bed with his skills, but at the same time he was glad that Snape would be the one and only person he would ever make love to.

Harry lowered his head over Snape's left foot, suckling Snape's big toe, his mouth watering as he licked and teased. He let it go and then proceeded to suck each toe in turn, causing Snape to moan in abandon. Snape's head and neck were arching on the pillow and he had his hands fisted in the sheets, his lips pulled back in a grimace of ecstasy. Harry had never seen a more perfect sight.

He was doing this to Snape. He was causing all those delightful moans and noises.

Harry kissed his way up Snape's thigh, alternating between his left and right leg, nibbling and sucking at each thigh in turn. He glanced up and saw Snape's cock fully erect and dribbling a trail of precome on his abdomen. Harry found himself wanting a taste.

After Vernon forcing the act upon him, Harry never thought he would want to do it, but this was different. Snape would not force him and Harry wanted to do it, to show the man pleasure. Not to mention the fact that the heady and musky scent coming from Snape was making his mouth water and his cock to twitch with need in his shorts.

Harry crawled further up the bed and licked a little of the precome of Snape's belly. It was tangy and a little salty, but not unpleasant. Snape bucked his hips and groaned as Harry continued to lick and suck at Snape's tummy. Harry delved his tongue into Snape's navel, loving the needy sounds the man was making and the wriggles of his body.

"Harry!" Snape wailed, it sounded like a prayer.

Well, here was one prayer Harry could answer, even if Snape didn't know what he'd been asking for. Harry moved his head slightly lower and took the tip of Snape's erection in his mouth. The shaft felt like velvet covered steel, hard and silky soft at once. Harry moaned around the cock in his mouth, feeling his own arousal increase at what he was doing to Snape.

Harry glanced up at Snape's face and felt his whole body shudder. Snape looked so hot like this, his eyes scrunched closed, hands fisted in the sheets as though to stop himself from thrusting too hard, a few drops of sweat dripping down his forehead. It was a look of wild abandon and Harry wanted the man to lose control completely.

Harry wanted to be the one who broke the Potion master's resolve. He doubled his efforts, taking as much of Snape in his mouth as he could without gagging and sucked as hard as he was able, but it still couldn't have been much more than an inch or two. Harry changed his tactics, licking the vein on the underside and swirling his tongue around the slit at the tip. Snape hissed and tugged Harry's head away. Harry let the engorged cock slip from his mouth for a moment. "It's okay, Severus. I want you to come in my mouth, I want to taste you."

"Are you sure, Harry? You don't have to."

"I know I don't have to, but I want to." Without waiting for any further comments, Harry once again set to making Severus Snape lose control. He sucked and licked as though the cock in his mouth was a lollipop, but he'd never tasted one this good before. Snape's orgasm was sudden and silent, Harry found his mouth flooded with seed so unexpectedly that he choked a little and some managed to dribble down his chin. He was able to swallow some of it, he still suckled at the softening shaft in his mouth even when there was no more to be had. Snape's taste was something he could rapidly become addicted to. He felt a strange sense of elation, even though he hadn't come himself. Harry had part of Snape in him now and no-one could take that away from them.

Snape tugged Harry up towards his mouth, kissing Harry with such force that Harry felt the air leave his lungs. Snape's tongue explored his mouth, tasting his teeth, the insides of his cheeks, his palate and Harry realised that Snape must be able to taste himself in Harry's mouth. He groaned and thrust his tongue against Snape's, pressing his hands on the pillow either side of Snape's head to stop himself from falling off balance.

Snape turned them over, so that Harry was pinned to the mattress by Snape's body above him, but they still hadn't broken their kiss. Harry was getting a little bit light headed due to lack of air, but he didn't want to stop kissing his husband. They were devouring each other, teeth clicking together, biting and sucking on lips as though unable to let the other go. Harry could feel his cock rubbing against Snape's stomach and knew it wouldn't take much for him to come, he was so excited. He stilled his hips and pulled his mouth away from Snape's. "No, stop. Please."

Snape rolled off him and glanced at Harry in alarm, his eyes flickering briefly to Harry's still erect groin. "Harry?"

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "I - I don't want to come." He knew that if he did, he would feel sick again and it would spoil everything.

"Doesn't it hurt?" asked Snape. "Being this hard for a while?"

"It aches a little," admitted Harry. "But it'll go away eventually." Harry put his hands over his eyes, willing his erection to go away. Sometimes he hated his body.

He felt the bed dip as Snape lay down beside him. Harry opened his eyes and saw that Snape was leaning one elbow and with his other hand he traced a pattern on Harry's chest. It was a soothing touch, not done to arouse and Harry let himself accept it.

"Harry, you do know that you're allowed to come, don't you? That I'm not going to punish you for it?"

He nodded. "I know, but I'm scared that I'll feel sick again. Maybe we can try again later?"

"Whatever you want, Harry," Snape kissed him on the forehead before getting up. "I'll just have a shower and then after breakfast we can explore?"

"Okay," said Harry. "I'd like that."

***

Snape spent a long time in the shower, wondering how he could help Harry. Obviously Vernon's abuse was still having an effect on him, even though the man was now dead.

How was he going to get Harry to realise that he was allowed to enjoy his own body and its responses, that it wasn't wrong? Snape knew that Harry's confusion was due to the ongoing abuse he suffered at the Dursleys' hands, but how to help Harry get over it? How must it feel to have had your body reactions turn against you? For although Harry had come that day over his uncle's knee, Snape knew that it was nothing more than a physical response, Harry hadn't wanted that to happen, it was still a violation no matter what Harry's own body had done.

Harry had seemed to enjoy their lovemaking that morning until he thought he might come. Was it guilt or fear that was stopping him from letting go? The shower pummelled Snape's neck as he tried to think of something to do for Harry without scaring him more. He'd stopped as soon as Harry had said he didn't want to go further and Snape knew he didn't want to force the issue or continue touching Harry when he clearly didn't want it.

Where did that leave the two of them?

Snape finished his shower, still no nearer to thinking of a solution. When he came out of the bathroom, Harry was already dressed in a pair of cream trousers and a pale green shirt, erection nowhere in evidence. He'd ordered breakfast from room service and Snape's mouth watered as he smelled the delicious aroma of pancakes and strawberries. How did Harry know that he had a weakness for pancakes, especially freshly cooked ones?

Snape got dressed in his usual black trousers, but this time he pulled on a blue shirt. Harry's eyes shot up.

"I didn't think you wore anything except black," he commented.

"We're on holiday. I thought it would be more suitable."

"I hope you like strawberries," said Harry as he poked his fork into one and brought it to his mouth. Snape's eyes were drawn to the boy's lips as he wrapped them around the juicy fruit. A spot of juice dripped down his chin and an eager tongue peeked out to lick it off. Snape was reminded of those same lips around his cock just a little while earlier and he felt his cock twitch within the confines of his trousers. He knew it would take a while before he would quicken again, but he enjoyed the sensation all the same, a first flash or arousal without an erection.

"I adore strawberries," replied Snape, his eyes never leaving Harry's face as he sat down to tuck into his own breakfast. Especially when they were eaten in such a decadent manner by his handsome husband. Snape looked away after a few more stares at Harry, knowing that if he let his imagination wander much further, he wouldn't want to leave the hotel room.

Once breakfast had been finished, Snape led Harry back to the first floor lounge, the Apparation point of the hotel and held Harry's hand firmly. "Ready?" he asked as Harry clung to him with a fierce grip.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," replied Snape as the two of them popped out of existence and reappeared somewhere else. Harry wobbled a little and stared around the rolling green hills, dotted with small round holes which were reminiscent of doors and windows in white wood that looked a bit the worse for wear due to weathering.

"Oh my God!" gasped Harry. "It's Hobbiton!"

"Miss Granger informed me that you were a fan of the film, I thought it would be a nice surprise for you."

"Severus, it's wonderful!" grinned Harry and stood on tiptoes to give Snape a peck on the cheek.

"We can't stay too long. The first official tour is due in an hour and we have to leave before then, the New Zealand Ministry of Magic has kindly allowed us this short time here. Well, where to you want to go first?"

Harry hopped from foot to foot, as if unable to decide in his excitement. Snape's heart swelled. This had been an excellent idea of Miss Granger's, Harry looked so happy, so carefree and Snape wanted to see the boy smile much more often.

He'd been travelling to New Zealand for years, enjoying the open spaces, it reminded him a little of Scotland, but on a much larger scale. Snape had never had a travelling companion before and it was as if he was seeing everything for the very first time again, Harry's enthusiasm was contagious.

They spent a while wandering round what had been the film set for Hobbiton, stopping for a lingering kiss next to the party tree before making their way up the hill to what had been Bag End. They admired the view of the countryside from the top of the steps. Harry linked his arm through Snape's and smiled up at him. "It's so beautiful here," sighed Harry. "I wish we could stay."

"We can't, Harry. We have to return to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"I know, but a boy can dream, can't he?" Harry let go of Snape's arm and wandered a little distance away.

Snape stared at Harry's retreating back and vowed that he would do everything in his power to make Harry's dreams come true.




Chapter Sixteen


Snape still had hold of Harry's hand as they made their way to the gates of Hogwarts. Their honeymoon was over and now they would have to face everyone. Harry gave him a surprised glance. Snape was willing to allow such an intimacy in public?

"You're holding my hand," said Harry.

"Did you honestly think I was going to allow you to face them all alone, Harry? We're bonded now, anything we do together is our business, no-one else's. If I want to hold hands with my husband, no-one can say a word about it."

"I know, I'm just nervous. What are they all going to say?"

"Does it bother you that people will gossip about our marriage? I wish there was some way we could prevent it, but there isn't."

"No, they'll talk anyway, they always do."

As the two of them made their way up the front steps of the castle, Harry wondered what the Daily Prophet might have published in their absence. He hoped that as they'd left on a honeymoon for a few days that the scandal of a student being bonded to a professor had died down somewhat. Harry dearly wished they were back in New Zealand and didn't have to face up to reality.

Snape stopped at the double doors to the Great Hall and turned to Harry.

"Ready, Harry?" Snape pressed his lips to Harry's knuckles, the gesture filling Harry with newfound confidence and he nodded his answer. Snape pushed the doors open and they entered the Hall.

At first Harry wasn't really aware of what he was seeing, everything was just a mass of noise and colour and a lot more people seemed crammed into the Hall than were usually there. Along with the black student robes, there were multitudes of other colours, it looked as if more than half the wizarding world had descended upon Hogwarts.

Harry wanted nothing better than to turn round and flee from the crowds. Snape squeezed his hand, almost as if he knew what Harry was thinking. Harry thought that was a definite possibility. There was a large banner draped on the wall behind the Head Table, a crude rendition of Harry and Snape standing over a prone figure who was supposed to be Voldemort, green light flaring from their wand tips. Considering how they'd actually defeated Voldemort, it was highly inaccurate.

Professor McGonagall made their way over to them both, giving first Snape and then Harry quick kisses on each cheek. "Welcome back, Severus, Harry," she beamed at both of them.

"Minerva, what on earth is going on here?" demanded Snape.

"Isn't it obvious, Severus? It's a party, both to commemorate your victory over the Dark Lord and to celebrate your bonding. You didn't think you'd get away without having a party, did you? After all, none of us were invited to the ceremony," sniffed Professor McGonagall, sounding highly affronted.

When they'd cast the soul binding spell with Hermione as the only witness, Harry hadn't even considered that other people may have wanted to attend. It wasn't something they'd been thinking of as a celebration at the time, just something necessary in order to defeat Voldemort once and for all.

"We can stay for an hour and no longer, Minerva," said Snape and Harry could feel the man's concern through the bond they shared. It had been happening a lot the past few days, he would find himself having glimpses of Snape's emotions, usually when they related to him, but also other things too. It had been a bit disconcerting when he drank coffee, grimacing at the sweet taste of sugar in it, then realising he was feeling what Snape would have been feeling if he'd been drinking the sweetened coffee instead of his usual strong black one. Snape was still speaking but Harry only caught the tail end of his conversation. "We've Apparated half-way round the world and we need to rest."

"Of course, Severus, Harry. I'm just glad to have you both back." Minerva walked back to the Head Table and Harry stared round the room in alarm. He could hardly speak. An hour? He was to endure this torture for an hour? He was hyperventilating, he knew it but couldn't stop himself in time. He was going to end up fainting to the floor.

"Breathe, Harry, breathe," Snape whispered in his ear, wrapping both arms round Harry as if to prevent him from falling or maybe just to comfort him. Harry felt safer at once, gulping in air as if he was trying not to drown. He could do this for his husband, couldn't he? For it wouldn't be terribly fair if he left Snape on his own to face them all.

"Hi, Harry, Professor Snape," said Ron's voice behind him.

Harry glanced over his shoulder from his perch on Snape's chest. "Ron."

"Mr. Weasley," Snape greeted him. "Harry, why don't you catch up with your friends and I will come and collect you later?"

Harry wanted to protest, wanted to continue clinging to the arms holding him, but knew that he was being childish and he didn't want Snape to see him as a child, not anymore.

"Okay, Severus," Harry reluctantly stepped out of the man's embrace, just as a flashbulb went off somewhere. He grimaced and sought the comfort of the walls, Ron following him.

"Harry, I just wanted to apologise. I was a complete prat."

"Yes, you were," agreed Harry, still upset that his friend held such bigoted views.

"I know and I'm sorry. Are we still friends?" asked Ron hopefully.

"That depends. Do you still think people like me and Blaise are ill? That there's something wrong with us?"

"No, Harry. I don't. I was just repeating what the Ministry had been teaching us all those years, I never really thought about it before. But you can't help who you fall in love with, can you?"

"No, you can't," Harry's eyes scanned the crowd for Snape, he spied him talking to Hermione, both of them deep in discussion about something. If he'd had a choice, would he have chosen such a prickly man to be in love with? The heart wasn't a logical organ but Harry knew that now he wouldn't be without Severus for the world.

Ron dragged him over to the Gryffindor table, where Harry was greeted like the conquering hero, with cheers of gratitude and congratulations as well as so many pats on the back he was sure he'd be bruised tomorrow. As the last of them sat back down again, leaving Harry and Ron standing by the bench, Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy made their way over. So Blaise must have been released from St. Mungo's then after the laws had changed.

"I'd just like to thank you, Harry. You and Hermione both. If it hadn't been for that petition, well, we all know where we would have ended up, don't we?" He extended his hand. Harry was too surprised to do anything else but clasp it in his and shake it.

Ron glanced at Malfoy. "You're not a poof too, are you?"

"No, but if you ever use that word in my hearing again I'll hex you. Show some respect, Weasley."

"Sorry," muttered Ron, his ears red. Harry gaped at the trio in front of him. Had Ron just apologised to Malfoy? Had Malfoy just given him a warning before he would hex him? Had that much changed in the last few days? He felt that he'd been away for years not days.

"Just a friendly warning, Potter. If you hurt my godfather, you'll have me to answer to."

"Don't worry, Malfoy. I have no intention of ever hurting Severus. I love him." It was so easy to say now, not that he knew the feeling was returned.

"I know," replied Malfoy. "He loves you too. I've never seen him like this in all the time I've known him. He looks so content."

Harry watched Severus talking and laughing with Hermione as if he no longer had a care in the world and Harry felt his chest swell with pride. Maybe Snape sensed him through the bond, for he looked up and locked gazes with Harry. Under that intense scrutiny, Harry felt as though they were the only two people in the room. Snape broke off his conversation with Hermione and stalked towards Harry, his robes billowing out behind him like the wake of a ship.

By the time Snape reached him, Blaise, Draco and Ron had disappeared from his side, not that Harry really minded that. He had eyes only for his husband now. "Are you ready to go, Harry?" asked Snape, placing a hand on the small of his back and guiding him towards the door. Harry let him, he wanted nothing better than to be alone with his husband.

"Let's go home, Harry," said Snape and led him down to the dungeons.

***

As the months past, Harry and Snape settled into some sort of routine. It had been difficult at first for the Potions master to get used to sharing his living space with another, but somehow they managed. They'd shared Snape's bed from that first night back, even if they didn't make love, each night ended with a kiss and cuddle and each day began the same way. Snape wondered how on earth he would keep his students under control if they knew that he liked to snuggle with his husband. Snape was not by nature a snuggler, but somehow Harry just brought it out in him.

He was also getting a little frustrated. Harry still wasn't comfortable enough to come, but delighted in teasing Snape with hands and tongue until he lost all control time and time again. There was nothing wrong, Harry was a giving and attentive lover, but Snape couldn't help feeling guilty that it was all a bit one sided. He wanted to give Harry pleasure too, but Harry balked at the mere suggestion and would become very quiet for days after each time Snape brought the subject up.

It took a Potions accident for Harry to finally overcome that barrier and allow himself to feel.

Snape allowed Harry to use his labs for his Potions homework from Professor Flitwick while Severus did his own research and brewing. He liked having Harry there with him, the boy's intense concentration something he'd never seen so much of when Snape had been teaching him.

Harry was chopping his ingredients, the odd time he looked up and gave Snape a giddy smile, causing Snape's heart to do little flip-flops in his chest. Snape stirred his own mixture before turning his attention back to Harry. Harry placed two drops of phoenix tears into the mixture and began stirring. Phoenix tears?

"Harry, what are you supposed to be making for Professor Flitwick?"

Harry dipped his spoon in the cauldron and tasted a sip. He dropped the spoon and stared hard at Snape.

"Calming draught," he said in a strange voice. "Professor, I feel... Oh, God!" Harry sank to his knees, gripping onto the edge of the table, breathing heavily.

"Harry, calming draught has dragon tears, not phoenix tears. What you have just made is one of the wizarding world's most powerful aphrodisiacs, illegal I might add."

Snape knelt down beside him. "Where did you get the recipe?"

"Professor ah - Flitwick," panted Harry. "Oh, God, it burns!" Harry wailed, thrusting his right hand to his groin and rubbing himself madly, not seeming to care if he hurt himself by being so rough. Snape removed Harry's hands and made the boy face him.

"Look at me, Harry." Harry turned, his eyes were so dilated with lust they were almost black, just a tiny rim of green outside the expanded pupils. "If this stays in your system, it will poison you, do you understand, Harry?"

Harry whimpered and rolled his head from side to side. "Please, Severus! Help me!"

"There is only way to counteract the effects, Harry. You're going to have to come. Do you want me to help you?"

Harry nodded and then hurled himself on Snape, latching his lips to his husband's. Snape allowed the kiss for a moment, but knew he had to make Harry come soon before the poison got too far into his bloodstream. He pulled away slightly, but only so that he could get his hands between them enough to unbutton Harry's jeans. Harry sobbed and whimpered trying to get any friction he could, but it wasn't making Snape's task any easier. "Hold still, Harry, I'm trying to help you here."

At last he managed to get the trousers open. Snape pulled both his jeans and underwear down past his knees and began stroking Harry's cock in a firm, steady rhythm. He wasn't worrying about technique or how wonderful he could make Harry feel, it was a medical emergency and Harry needed to come as quickly as possible. Harry's cock felt so hard, hot and heavy in his hands. It wasn't going to take long. Harry began arching his hips faster and faster as he came closer to the edge. He had his hands against his chest, pinching his own nipples as he howled in ecstasy. "Come for me, Harry. Come now," pleaded Snape. Harry shuddered and suddenly Snape felt the warm wetness seep over his hand as Harry pulsed and pulsed rope after rope of his seed from his body.

Snape looked at his hands, watching as first pale green drops dripped from Harry's cock, but it soon turned to the normal white. The poison had all been expelled. Snape heaved a sigh of relief. He didn't know what he would do without Harry.

As Harry's cock softened, the boy flushed and looked down at himself being held in Snape's hands.

"Thank you, Severus," sighed Harry.

Snape cast a cleaning spell over both of them, letting Harry go. It was the first time he'd seen Harry have an orgasm and he really wanted to repeat the experience without either of them at death's door for a change. Harry pulled his clothes back up and stood up again.

He was a little wobbly on his feet, Snape managed to catch him before he feel to the floor again. "Harry, how are you feeling now?"

"Just a bit weak in the knees," said Harry. "Can we - can we do that again?" he asked shyly.

"What, poison you?"

"No, silly. I want - I want us both to come next time."

Snape bent down to his young husband and claimed his mouth in a heated kiss.

"I think that can be arranged," Snape whispered against his lips.

"Good, because I think I might just be ready to go again."

Snape felt the boy's renewed erection against his leg.

"Sixteen year olds," he mumbled but it didn't sound as exasperated as he had intended.

In fact, it sounded a little sweet.



Chapter Seventeen


The night before Harry's graduation, Snape was moping around their quarters feeling a little sorry for himself. Harry had left him alone in order to go to the pre-graduation party in the Gryffindor dorms. He really shouldn't begrudge Harry this time with his friends, but Snape was a very possessive man and he had already been imagining how they might spend their last night before he and Harry would finally consummate their marriage.

Over the last months, there'd been plenty of times when both of them had been more than tempted to go that bit further, but Harry always managed to pull back enough so that both of them could think clearly. Snape didn't want to think. He wanted that toned Seeker's body writhing underneath him as he took Harry and made him his. His cock throbbed in his trousers, being teased by a vision of clear green eyes.

Snape groaned and run himself a bath. As Harry wasn't here, he was going to have a nice relaxing soak and let his own hands take care of things before he marched up to Gryffindor Tower and dragged Harry back down to the dungeons by his hair, like a caveman. He didn't think that would do either of their reputations any good. Gods, he wanted the boy so much.

Snape spelled the water to his preferred temperature before undressing and getting in. He sank down in the water, the bubbles covering his chest and sighed as he let the water buoy him up, resting his head against the rim of the bath. He closed his eyes and drifted for a while.

"Mind if I join you?" came a voice.

Snape's eyes shot open at once. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Now, Severus, is that any way to greet your husband?" Harry grinned at him and stepped into the bathroom. He disrobed with a quick spell, one that Snape had taught him in fact and stood there naked as the day he was born, his erection almost vertical with his abdomen. Snape's own cock twitched with renewed interest in the proceedings.

"I felt you," explained Harry. "Through the bond. I knew how hard you were, how much you wanted me. It got me so hot, feeling you like that." Harry trailed a hand down his chest, skimming lightly and arching into his own touch. He'd lost his shyness over his own body, it had taken time but now Harry was as keen for their lovemaking sessions as Snape was. In fact both of them would be quite happy to wander round their quarters naked if it hadn't been for the fact that so many people firecalled them unexpectedly.

"Get in," growled Snape, jealous of Harry's hands. He wanted to be the one touching Harry, giving him pleasure. He sat up a little, giving Harry room to get in. Harry knelt astride him, legs either side of Snape's, resting half on Snape's legs and half on his stomach. Their chests rubbed together as Snape mashed their mouths together in a demanding kiss. Harry was thrusting his body against Snape's even as their tongues met in their mouths. Snape gripped Harry's buttocks, almost lifting the boy out of the water and tugged him closer to him. Snape let one of his hands wander between the crease, rubbing lightly. Harry groaned into his mouth and pulled away, resting his head on Snape's shoulder.

"Please, Severus, please!" he begged and wriggled his hips. Well, who was Snape to deny the boy anything when he asked so nicely? Snape teased Harry's entrance some more, then pressed his finger inside, the first time they'd done this. He waited a little until Harry seemed to relax a little. Snape angled his finger just so and Harry screamed, arching against him and coming suddenly and violently, his whole body trembling. Snape felt some of the semen reach as far as his chin and he smiled down at his young husband, stroking his hair as Harry recovered from the aftershocks.

"Oh my God," panted Harry. "What was that? What did you do to me?"

"That, Harry, was your prostate. So you see how some men might like to be the bottom?"

Harry moaned and grabbed hold of Snape's arms as though to stop himself from falling over.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just imagining what it's going to feel like having your cock up my arse tomorrow night."

Now there was an image that made Snape's cock even harder. Harry bent down and began licking his seed from Snape's chest and chin, lapping like a cat at a bowl of cream. "Mine tastes different than yours," said Harry, leaning in to kiss Snape. Snape could taste Harry on his tongue and hummed a little before pulling back.

"Sweeter," agreed Snape. "It's because you're younger and you drink a lot of fruit juice."

"I want to taste you," said Harry.

"I'm not stopping you," grinned Snape and it wasn't long before nothing more coherent than more, please and harder were the only noises he could make. After Harry brought him to an earth shattering orgasm, they tasted each other again, comparing flavours.

"I can hardly wait until tomorrow night," said Harry as they lay wrapped up in fluffy towels before the fire. Although it was June, it was still cold enough in the dungeons to need a fire. Harry scooted closer to him on the couch and lay his head in Snape's lap.

"Me neither, Harry. Me neither," agreed Snape, caressing Harry's hair.

***

The graduation ceremony seemed interminable. All the House tables had been cleared from the Great Hall, instead rows of chairs had been set out, all the students graduating sitting in the first and second rows, their families behind. The teachers were all present on stage, except for Snape, who was sitting in the row behind Harry as his family. An invitation had been sent to Dudley, but he never turned up nor had he contacted Harry since.

At last each student was called up to the stage to receive their diplomas. Harry anxiously waited his turn, shifting in his seat. When his name was called by Professor Dumbledore he made his way to the stage, glancing back at his husband who was looking at him with a sense of pride and possession.

"Congratulations, Harry. I hope to see you and Severus back for a visit often," smiled the Headmaster as he handed Harry a beribboned scroll. Harry wondered if the man at last had succumbed to senility, but couldn't dwell in it as Professor McGonagall called out the next name on her list.

When Blaise Zabini received his diploma, the seventh years erupted into cheers and ran to be embraced by their families. Harry hovered by the edge of the stage. He wasn't sure how Snape would react if Harry were to launch himself in the man's arms in such a public venue, but he so wanted that. He wanted to feel like he had a family at long last.

"Harry, congratulations," said Molly Weasley after she had released Ron from her embrace and proceeded to do the same to Harry. "We're so proud of you all."

Mr. Weasley gave him a hearty handshake once his wife had released Harry and winked at him.

"Arthur, Molly," drawled Snape. "I wonder if I might borrow my husband for an embrace?"

Harry gaped at him. Snape wanted to hug him? Here, with the Daily Prophet photographer still lurking about? Not that Harry had any objections, he almost ran into Snape's open arms and couldn't stop the happy tears from flowing as he pressed his face against the hardness of Snape's now familiar chest. He still hadn't grown much but he quite liked being smaller than Snape, enjoyed being looked after.

Snape held tight to Harry's back and Harry felt the air around them displacing. He glanced up just as they Apparated into their bedroom in the dungeons. "How did you do that?" asked Harry. "I thought you couldn't Apparate at Hogwarts?"

"Normally you can't, but the wards were down for a few hours tonight to allow families to get here on time for the ceremonies. Not everyone can Floo or travel vast distances on a broom."

Harry nodded and stood on tiptoes to kiss Snape's mouth, he'd been thinking of this moment all day, his cock had been in a state of semi-arousal for hours and at the first touch of Snape's lips on his he was fully erect in an instant. It was as though Snape's kisses were directly connected to his cock and he could never get enough of them. Air ceased to matter, they were breathing each other, crushing their mouths together with such force that their teeth clattered against each other. Harry was shamelessly rubbing himself against Snape's thigh, the pressure a welcome relief after all day thinking about it.

Snape yanked Harry's head back by his hair. "Bed," he ordered. "Now."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He cast the spell on both of them and their clothes disappeared in seconds, folding themselves neatly on top of their dresser. Harry bounded onto the bed, feeling too tight for his skin. He lay down on his back and opened his arms as Snape climbed on too. They kissed and touched for a little while longer until Harry thought he could bear no more.

"Please, Severus," he hissed. "I want you inside. I need you in me."

Snape stopped suckling Harry's neck to look at him. "Are you sure about this, Harry? It doesn't have to be tonight."

"God, I'm sure," he moaned and widened his legs. When Snape had put his finger inside him last night and touched that magic spot, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. How much better would it be to have something bigger and thicker in there? His arousal flared even more just thinking about it and he arched his hips. "Please, please," he begged. "I want this. I want you."

Snape moved off him for a moment and rummaged in the drawer on his bedside table, returning with a vial of gold coloured liquid. Harry was sure he felt his heart explode somewhere deep in his chest. They were really going to do this. Snape was going to take him and Harry could hardly wait for that moment.

Snape tipped the oil on his fingers coating them before bending down to kiss Harry again. As he kissed Harry, he used one finger to circle teasingly around Harry's entrance. Harry felt himself twitching down there, wanting to be filled, needing to be filled. Snape slid his finger in very carefully, going slowly, allowing Harry time to adjust. He pulled his mouth away from Harry's. "Okay?" he asked in concern. Harry nodded and Snape started with a second finger, smoothing them both inside Harry.

When Snape pushed a third finger into him, it hurt at first and his body tried to reject the intrusion. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes as Harry tried to get used to the weird full, sensation. Snape waited until Harry was breathing more easily again. "Just try and relax, Harry. It'll hurt more if you don't."

Relax? That was easy for Snape to say, he wasn't the one with three fingers stuck up his bum! Harry tired a few deep breaths and that seemed to help. Snape moved his fingers, hitting Harry's prostrate so that he saw stars and bucked his hips so far off the mattress he almost ended up on the floor. He knew he wouldn't last longer if Snape kept doing that.

"In me," panted Harry. "In me. Now."

He took the vial from Snape's hands and liberally coated Snape's cock with the golden fluid, while Snape still stretched and teased him with his fingers. Snape removed his fingers and positioned himself at Harry's entrance, at the same time he took Harry's cock in his hand and stroked him hard and fast. Harry didn't stand a chance, he came in three short sharp pulses, semen spurting over his husband's hand. At the moment of Harry's orgasm, Snape pressed himself inside the now relaxed muscles.

Harry's cock and arse were still twitching when he felt Snape fill him. He felt whole, complete and he never wanted this moment to end. "Oh, God," he grabbed hold of Snape's waist and pulled the older wizard down on top of him, hungry for more kisses. He felt so full, so stretched. It burned a little as he wasn't used to it, but Snape took his time and made love to him as if they had all the time in the world. Which they did.

***

Snape thought he was going to lose at as soon as he breached the tight ring of muscles guarding the entrance to Harry's body. His husband was so tight, he was sure he would hurt him if he moved any quicker and Snape made himself thrust slowly, slower than he'd ever done before. He wanted to come, but he wanted their joining to last as long as possible too, wanted to stretch the moment out forever. The first time he was inside his husband. He knew he would remember this night for as long as he lived.

Harry gasped as Snape finally found the right angle to stroke his prostate, arching his hips up to meet Snape's thrusts. Already Harry's cock was hardening again, Snape could feel it against his stomach, a trail of precome on his skin. He pulled up a little so that he could reach between them to stroke Harry's erection. "Oh, please!" moaned Harry, his head thrashing on the pillows. "Faster, oh God!"

Snape rubbed Harry's cock frantically at the same time as he pounded into Harry, just hoping that he wasn't hurting him. From Harry's cries and moans, it seemed he was feeling pleasure not pain. Snape had to let go of Harry's cock when his orgasm roared through him like the Hogwarts Express. He grabbed Harry's hips and came and came inside Harry's hot heat, starlight bloomed behind his eyelids and his toes curled into the sheets. Just as the last tremors of his orgasm shot through him, he felt Harry's whole body stiffen. Harry screamed, "Nnnghhhh!" and spurted his own release between their bodies, clasping his legs around Snape's waist as though afraid Snape was going to run away from him.

Snape looked down at his young husband, hair soaked with sweat, his green eyes dazed.

"Wow!" said Harry. "I think you can scrape me off the ceiling now, Severus," he giggled. "We have to do that again!"

"I didn't hurt you?" asked Snape, stroking his cheek. The lubricant he'd used had a muscle relaxant as well, but it wouldn't eliminate pain completely.

"Just a little," Harry admitted, reaching up to kiss him. "I'm fine, stop worrying. I love you, Severus."

"I love you too, Harry," Snape returned the kiss, just enjoying his languid state. Sometimes he still couldn't believe that all of this was real, that Harry was really here. Really loved him. He broke the kiss, gasping for air and hopped down from the bed. "I got you a graduation present," said Snape as he opened the dresser drawer where the prize waited.

He handed Harry the folder containing the leaflets and just hoped that Harry liked what he'd done, that he wouldn't think Snape had done something of this magnitude without consulting him, but Snape had wanted it to be a surprise.

Harry opened the folder out and lay the contents on the bed. "Wizarding Tours to Middle-Earth," Harry read out loud. "Oh, Severus, you booked us on a tour of the movie sites? That's brilliant!" Harry jumped up and hugged him.

"Read this one, Harry," said Snape, handing him a piece of parchment.

"What is it?" asked Harry as he took the scroll and read the contents. "This is a set of deeds. Proprietors: Severus Snape-Potter, Harry Snape-Potter. We own it? We own the tour company in New Zealand?"

"As a gift for you, Harry. I knew how much you enjoyed it there. There hasn't been a wizarding tour there before, but the New Zealand Ministry thought the idea had merit and granted us a licence to operate there. We don't have to do this, but the option is there for you."

"Severus, oh, God," Harry was crying now, great tears rolling down his cheeks. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. I love it. Thank you so much." Harry wrapped his arms around Snape and rested his head on Snape's chest, one of the boy's favourite positions.

"My pleasure, Harry," said Snape, stroking Harry's back. "My pleasure."

THE END

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渡鸦王子

Whew this is hot! I simply love Severus as Harry's mentor/therapist/whatever. The old law of the Ministry is completely awful! It is quite devious for Madame Bones to blackmail Fudge and Umbridge(Umbitch);). Luckily for Harry and Severus(and for us readers) the Ministry abolished the law! Although Dumbledore helped a lot in the original series regarding Voldemort's defeat by Harry's hands, I still don't like him due to his manipulative nature and I can kind of sense that if he had lived he would not have cared about any dead or injured of the light side as long as Harry lived. Harry's whole life was basically one giant game of chess, completely orchestrated ;_;. This is awesome and I really have no words for it!
非得加中文吗QAQ。 Eriador大大太牛了！人物的刻画非常贴合原著。本身我就不喜欢老邓所以看见这里的邓布利多我只能呵呵😒。

1020543177

我只希望我的英语能再好一点，这样就不用查英汉词典了

Offord

意外的好读诶 大概是句子普遍不长吧 我的英文水平还只能欣赏短句的节奏

didaffol

看英文同人真的很练阅读啊，谢谢搬运