SNARRY-A-THON10: FIC: Bring Together the Pieces Title: Bring Together the Pieces Author:florahart Rating: NC-17 Word count: 8,000 Warning(s): None Prompt: #407 - Harry and Severus are trapped together and somehow forced to tell only the truth. Hilarity ensues. Summary: Harry and Severus work together searching for artifacts and treasures. This time, they find something extra. A/N: Thanks to the patient mods. I'm not entirely sure hilarity was what ensued, but something did, anyway.
Bring Together the Pieces
Harry knew the instant he touched the damned scepter or cane or whatever the fuck its more proper name was that they'd missed something critical. Something besides a final decision as to the designation by which it should properly be called, which he was certain didn't matter; one of the things about working as a treasure hunter was that things were valuable for their age and lineage, and not, at least in general, for what one called them in one's own head.
Fuck it. Scepter. Either way, they'd tripped something that had nothing to do with a name and everything to do with old unfamiliar magic in a room that should have been drained of lingering defensive charms by the work Fleur had done for and through them from afar. Clearly, her efforts hadn't been entirely successful.
He closed his eyes and didn't say a word as the thing separated into two pieces and thunked heavily into both their chests, and just left them closed as the familiar sensation tugged behind his navel. It beat the shit out of seeing the look on Snape's face, and he didn't need to look to bring his hand up and catch it to him. He had no sodding idea where they were going, but dropping off a rogue Portkey midflight was not recommended, especially if one might be travelling over just about anything.
God, he hoped Snape had realized and grabbed just as fast. Or maybe not--after all, if one of them got free, the odds of this not ending in blood probably increased. But, shit. He could wind up over water or impaled on a spire somewhere; it was a bitch to gain one's bearings mid-air and it wasn't exactly balmy out, either. And yes, they'd been arguing rather intensely in the moments before he'd reached to touch the damned thing, but that didn't mean he wished Snape impaled or otherwise dead. They were used to each other, or at least, Harry was used to Snape, and he'd miss him.
The top half of the scepter was getting slick in his hand, though it was hard to say whether that was because some of the weather was bleeding in as he slowed (maybe? New rule, Potter: all stealth activities to be done during daytime hours regardless of the impracticality thereof; there are no fucking points of reference in the dark), or something was seeping out of the crystal itself (which would definitely be bad news) or… well, he didn't really think of any third option; in any case his hands weren't sweating and even if they were, if he could catch a Snitch in anything short of a monsoon, he didn't think he'd struggle to hold onto this.
And then he was falling, but not for nearly long enough to do anything useful such as attempt to get his feet pointing downward in order to land awkwardly on top of the scepter's ball. He grimaced at the nasty crunch of a grinding break in a rib, then made to roll over, bit his lip hard to refrain from whimpering, and re-assessed. Two ribs, maybe three.
Fuck.
And ouch.
He lay still for a moment, trying to breathe without groaning, then realized he was someplace very silent.
Very silent.
Balls.
"Snape?" His voice was breathy and a little raspy, and putting much force behind it seemed impossible, but it seemed terribly loud in the stony stillness of wherever he was.
There was no response. He ran his tongue over his dry lips and gathered himself to try again, then thought better of it. Shouting, even if he could manage it, would certainly give away some kind of information to whomever (or whatever?) had brought them here, and it was possible Snape was being quiet on purpose.
He shoved the stupid scepter top out from under him and took another shallow breath as it clattered across the floor, then forced himself up on his hands and knees enough to look around, panting and wincing. He did wonder, fleetingly, why some clever wizard or witch, like, say, Hermione in her capacity as a medical researcher, hadn't worked out how to get oxygen into the blood without having to move the fucking ribcage, but wondering was no help, and breathing still wasn't optional, so he took a careful breath, trying to only expand his upper chest.
A long and painful look around left him with no helpful information, though it did at least distract him somewhat from theoretical improvements to magical science because really, things appeared a bit grim. He was alone and hurt in an unfamiliar place with bars on the windows and across the doorway, and from the looks of the immediate vicinity, his jailors hadn't been by in a couple of centuries.
Shit bugger fuck.
Just dropping back down onto the packed-dirt floor sounded quite nice, compared to staying up, but he knew that would only exacerbate the injury, and the sickening weird pressure on the damaged side of his chest was probably a good reason to deal with his physical situation before trying to figure out how to find Snape. He eased himself down onto his other hip and scooted toward the nearest wall, then rested against it and closed his eyes for a count of thirty seconds, trying to relax because burning energy on tension wasn't going to do him any good at all.
Finally, he opened his eyes and conjured a mirror--which worked, which was a pleasant surprise. The door's lock had runes on it, and he'd assumed the locks were magical as well as physical, so it would have stood to reason that magic inside the cell would be forbidden or impossible. Still, nothing happened as he floated the mirror before him and slowly opened the front of his shirt to get a look at the damage.
The skin was broken, but smashed open, not sliced; the bleeding was sluggish and unlikely to do him any real harm. However, the flesh under that was bruised and ugly, with a fist-sized purple knot of lumps and edges where swelling and the sharp points of bone fragments were. Harry bit his lip and took as deep a breath as he could, watching his ribcage expand and contract, then took another thirty-second break. At least it had contracted relatively normally; he'd once watched Hermione take emergency steps to repair a punctured lung and he wasn't at all sure he could manage that kind of healing on his own body.
When he opened his eyes again, he traced the edge of the wound carefully with his index finger, then did a gentle healing charm. Envisioning how the bones were supposed to look was challenging, since it wasn't as though he'd ever spent a great deal of time in objective, or even subjective, contemplation of the topic of his own ribcage, but as some of the swelling eased, he thought he'd done well enough to go on with, at least. The discoloration remained, and he was definitely going to be sore, but he'd never been much good at anything beyond the most basic first-aid techniques. He prodded the sore area experimentally with the same finger and winced, but it wasn't excruciating, so he repeated the healing charm and got to his feet, buttoning his shirt as he approached the door.
As soon as he was within arm's reach, he heard it. "Potter."
Snape's voice was clear enough, though it sounded as though it were coming from a distance. "Snape?"
"Potter." There was a pause. "I suppose you've got us both trapped, then?"
"Yes." Harry frowned as it occurred to him he'd not meant to be quite so direct about that. "That is… yes."
"I see."
"No, I didn't intend… where are you? Can you tell anything about our location?"
"Alone in a room--more properly a cell--with a dirt floor and magical locks. There's nothing resembling plumbing, although thankfully the chamber pot is long-dry, but surprisingly there is a bed which must once have been relatively comfortable, which suggests that whomever built this prison is--or was--not interested in managing his residents by the expedient of maximum discomfort. The south wall has a carving based on which, assuming it is of local origin, I surmise we are some several hundred miles to the south and west of our previous location, although it is possible the carving is the result of ancient trade. There is one high window in the corner, facing east, and I am apparently below ground but for that. Bugger."
"Bugger, we're underground?"
"Bugger, I hadn't realized until the midst of my monologue that the locks weren't the only magic."
"Could have been worse. You could have been a villain expounding on his great plan just long enough to get dead."
"You may be aware, some people do still believe me to be a villain, and honestly, getting dead is still not entirely unlikely. And trust you to change the subject for a ridiculous joke."
"Fine. Sorry. So, something's coercing you to speak the truth?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, me, too." Harry sighed. "I couldn't hear you until I approached the door. You?"
"I am at the door. I briefly attempted to induce it to unlock--this was unsuccessful--and had only started to consider the issue of where you might be. I didn't hear you speaking previously."
"Oh. Well, right. I didn't say anything previously. Not aloud, anyway."
"Whispered prayers of thanks for not triggering anything dreadful with your overly-enthusiastic grabbing, I suppose?"
"My grabbing was as planned by both of us, you wanker. No, healing charms and minor complaints regarding injury, actually. And no, it was not whingeing."
"Lovely. In any case, we've concluded we only hear each other whilst we stand at the doors our cells. If, as I assume, you have managed to cobble together something enough like repairs to your person that you are not in mortal danger, perhaps we should test the parameters."
Harry frowned. "What?"
"Determine the distance from the door we must be. That is, step back. Speak. Step forward. Speak again. Compare notes."
"Oh. Right."
"Was that from away from the door?"
"No." Harry waited, but there was silence. "Are you away from the door, or waiting?"
The snort was answer enough.
"Right. I'll step back, then. Um, right back." Harry moved toward the carving on the… "Hey Snape, there's a carving in here, too."
There was no answer.
"Can you hear me, or are you just waiting? Or, wait, maybe I just can't hear you. Bugger." He moved back toward the door.
"--ack yet, or shall I send a search party?"
"What? No. I just. Okay, describe the carving?"
"Was that a question? I feel only partly compelled to answer."
"There's a carving in here, too. On the… yeah, south wall. Under the same kind of window above it and to the left, so that's east."
"How unusual. The décor has a theme which does not vary wildly from one room to the next."
Harry sighed. "I know, but mine looks kind of expensive, Mr Smartarse. Why--"
"Did you just address me as 'mister smart arse'?"
"Yeah, I did, and you totally deserved it so don't even start. As I was asking, why would they put expensive things in their cells?"
"I don't-- …Perhaps you have a point. Just a moment; I shall examine the carving more closely."
Harry waited a few seconds, then decided he might as well go examine his, too, since they were probably going to want to exchange information soon enough. He moved toward the south wall, and then, just as he got there, stopped short. Snape's voice sounded in his ear again, still distant and somehow, despite the lack of an actual echo, sounding as though it had one. He listened for a moment, to deep slices, probably made with an ax or something equally crude, but then smoothed… then said, "Snape?"
The voice went immediately silent.
"Didn't mean to startle you. Only, I came over to look at my carving--which I believe is similar to yours, incidentally--and suddenly there you were again."
"I suppose this means it isn't that we must be near the door, then, but rather, in the same space within our cells. Odd."
"How so?"
"Do you suppose all the cells are identical? Or that they've only two?"
Harry blinked. "I hadn't considered the issue. It would be a bit strange, wouldn't it?"
"Indeed." Snape fell silent again as a shadow passed slowly over Harry's window.
"Something's outside," Harry said.
"Yes, it just passed, quite slowly--"
"What? How long is this room, I mean your room, would you say?"
"Twenty feet, perhaps." Snape said. "Why?"
"Because it just passed me too. So either each window was blocked by a slow creature at the same time, or it passed me slowly and then Apparated to you, or--"
"We're in the same room."
"Seems unlikely, doesn't it?"
"Quite, but then, there was a time in my life when I'd have supposed it unlikely I would ever take up a partnership of any sort with you, much less one which…"
"One which what?"
"One which I would rather not answer this question, and I'd have hoped you wouldn't ask unnecessary things, but--"
"Don't answer. Does that fix it?"
There was a moment of silence again. "Perhaps."
"Good. I didn't mean to ask anything. I'll try to refrain."
"See that you do, insofar as personal questions. Have you any thoughts regarding magical theory and how it could have come to pass that we might be in the same room, invisible to one another?"
"Not really. We aren't just invisible, though, are we?" Harry frowned. "That is, I don't believe I can feel you, either. Can I?"
"I'm certain I don't know the answer to that."
"Well you might, though; I have no idea whether, uh, what, interdimensional Legilimency would be possible, nor whether it might give you any insight."
He could practically hear the sneer on Snape's face as he admitted to his continuing lack of expertise in a field he'd never truly mastered for all the man's efforts spanning nearly fifteen years now. "I have never attempted interdimensional Legilimency. Although I suppose we must be in the same dimension. Perhaps it's more a matter of a phase shift."
"Phase shift?"
"Surely you listen some of the time when Weasley gets going. Bill, that is; I'm certain Ron has never considered any physical science topic with enough attention that there is any going to be got."
Harry laughed. "No, Ron's more of an action man, I think. And yes, I have listened, but I'm not sure why a phase issue is more likely than a dimensional one."
"I don't know that it is; however, if we literally occupy the same space and time, would sound travel between--"
"Yeah, I have no sodding idea. And neither do you, so I think we should go back to discussing things we have some hope of making sense of. D'you still have the piece you had initially?"
"No, I dropped it upon landing."
"Yes, but I mean, damn it. I assume they didn't land the same place, because we couldn’t hear each other at first, so, okay. Go get yours, and I'll go get mine, and we can meet back here. Unless you have a better idea."
"I do. You go get yours and return, assuring me it didn't transport you to somewhere else again before I retrieve mine."
"Yes, obviously we'll be much better off if we're completely separated and not in the same dimension."
"Phase."
"Whatever."
"I never the less prefer that you retrieve yours first."
"Fine. I'll go get it, and you stay here and wank or whatever you usually would do, in the case of waiting for no good reason." Harry stepped away quickly before Snape could ask him something humiliating, though he hoped that that particular approach to revenge hadn't occurred to him yet.
The crystal from the scepter, which was the part that had come with Harry, required more looking than he'd have preferred. He went back to the part of the room in which he'd landed and looked around, then frowned and looked again. He remembered pushing the thing out from under him, and certainly that would have rolled it a bit, but there was nothing in its path for it to have gone under, and in any case, he hadn't thought he'd pushed it hard enough to go far. "Accio crystal from the top of the scepter," he said after a moment. Conjuring had worked, so it followed that Summoning wasn't a ridiculous thing to try.
Nothing happened, and Harry scowled. Finally, he went back to report on his findings.
"--pose you've gone and got yourself transported to Nova Scotia probably in regrettable small pieces and I shall have to--"
"No, just looking for the fucking thing, which by the way is nowhere to be found. Glad to know you'd worry, though."
"I wasn't worrying; I was simply put out that you'd hoped for me to meet the same fate and congratulating myself for my foresight. Alas, it was not to be. Nowhere to be found? So then, I suppose we've gone to all the work of finding it for nothing."
"And got ourselves lost in somewhere unknown and unable to see or touch each other."
"Ah, yes. It should be a day of rejoicing, and yet."
Harry sighed. "Yes, a day of rejoicing. I might never again be able to listen to you shout at me ag--oh, wait. I can hear you just fine, as long as we remain in the same space. Shall we work out a schedule for mutual avoidance?"
"No."
"Ah, so we'll meet at random intervals forever, then. That should go well. Perhaps we can use the chamber-pot together sometimes entirely by accident. I imagine it will all seem perfectly lovely until we suddenly achieve the harmony of simultaneous streams of piss hitting the metal."
"How revolting."
"Oh, please. At least I didn't point out that we've no idea how long it will be until anyone arrives to empty it, or suggest other possible sounds. Though I suppose you've always wanted me to sit in your lap, same dimension or otherwise, haven't you?"
"Yes. Potter. Did we not agree--"
"Sorry! I didn't mean to--wait. Did you say yes?"
"Yes. Once again, I submit that we agreed not to engage in the asking of questions which either of us would rather not have the answer to spoken aloud."
"Well. Fuck." Harry put his hands on his hips, completely uncertain how to continue the conversation from this point, then threw them into the air. "Shit. Okay, you should ask me humiliating questions or something to make us even."
"Ah, but I was never in any way a member of the House of Crusaders, was I?"
"Depends. Crusading for self, I suppose."
"That's called self-interest; perhaps I ought to gift you with an unabridged dictionary on your next birthday. I could attach it to your end table with a sticking charm, and then you would have no excuse not to browse it."
"Nice. I offer you an opportunity to get a free shot in, and you go for insulting my vocabulary. Again."
"My apologies. I do realize I ought to seek a less immobile and more difficult target. But then, I wasn't a bloody Gryffindor; I don't play fair."
"Fine. Dirty it is." Harry smiled at the space where Snape apparently was a few inches away from him. "Why do you want me to sit in your lap?"
There was no answer, and Harry frowned, then realized that of course Snape--the coward--had removed himself from the area. He pursed his lips and considered that for a minute, wondering whether he'd simply removed himself in order to answer where Harry wouldn't hear him, or had managed to miss the bulk of the question, then turned and went to piss in the chamber-pot. Mentioning the concept had reminded his bladder of its chief excretory responsibility, and also he thought if Snape did manage to hear that, the snort would certainly be audible.
When he was finished, he returned to the door. "Are you done being a coward?" he asked the air. If Snape was here, he'd have to answer, and if he wasn't, well then, Harry would just go ask the carving.
"No, because that would require my having been one, you child. And I believe I've cautioned you against suggesting that before, but to my disgust, there are more pressing matters at hand so I am forced to put the issue aside. Are you quite finished asking me embarrassing questions?"
"For the moment."
"Ah. Still warning me of your impure motives, then?"
"Nope. Totally pure. Gryffindors are open and above-board, isn't that what you've said?"
"I believe you've mis-heard, though I can't imagine how foolish and idiotic got so very mangled in your poor small brain." Harry couldn't hear the eyeroll, but he was very sure it had happened. He grinned.
"In any case, and I swear this isn't a question about lap-sitting, have you looked for your half of the scepter?"
"I have not. If your half is missing, it follows you were unable to test whether it would relocate you. Therefore, my original objection stands."
"Perfect. So I can't test a fucking thing, and you won't look for a fucking thing. Now what? Shall we return to our contemplation of the chamber-pot? I used it, by the way, whilst I was looking for you."
"I would prefer we did not, but I feel I must ask: if you were looking for me, what led you to search the chamber-pot? Surely you're not so poor a judge of scale as to guess I might fit inside it even if it had been your hope to rain piss upon my head."
"Kinky. I wasn't looking for you in it; I was using it because my bladder was full. I thought you were more familiar with simple anatomy."
"I am. For instance, I know at least nine ways to murder a man with my bare hands."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"You do understand that for the compulsion to work, you have to ask questions to which I know the answer."
"What?"
"You asked whether my feeling was equivalent to yours. Since I do not know yours, and am not particularly able to engage in any Legilimency to resolve that at the moment, I cannot answer the question."
"Oh. Well, yes, I suppose that would be... In any case, I was telling you, regarding the chamber pot, so that you would know if you needed to use it that I currently don't."
"I cannot believe we have now spent at least a quarter of our time since the determination of our problem on matters concerned with a slightly glorified bucket."
"Right. All right, so moving along: perhaps you might be willing to simply look for your half of the scepter, in order to determine whether both halves went missing, or only mine? You don't have to touch anything you don't want to."
"How reassuring."
Harry sighed. "Seriously, would you just look already?"
Naturally, because the man was evidently bent on being as persistently impossible as he could design a method for being, Snape had evidently walked away again, rather than answer. Harry wondered why he found this in the least surprising; it wasn't as though he hadn't known Snape for a decade and a half, and the behavior was hardly new.
He waited for a few minutes, then decided if Snape was going to be contrary and not return--or, for all Harry knew, maybe he'd returned and simply not spoken--he could play that game as well. It was petty, of course, but then, so was the wandering off. He glanced about the room, trying to decide what was the least likely place for Snape to look for him. Finally, he went to the wall under the window and sat down on the floor, wedged tightly into the corner. "There," he said.
Of course, another few minutes passed and then he realized that the trouble with this approach was that he had no idea where Snape was, either. Perhaps he'd found both halves of the scepter somehow. Perhaps he'd decided to touch, and been taken away. Perhaps Harry was here alone, with no idea where here was (except that it was hot and dry here, unlike the brisker, damper weather at their previous location, which probably meant they'd traveled quiet a distance, and evidently approaching noon) and no apparent way to get any help. And no guarantee he spoke the fucking language, wherever they were. Or he was.
Crap. If it was Spanish or French, his Latin use was at least marginally helpful. Arabic, though, or Tamazight or some lesser North African dialect, and he was screwed.
And why was he considering linguistics? He was hiding in the corner from Snape, who couldn't see him, whilst wondering whether the man had been whisked away to Laos or perhaps the Cayman Islands and having no particularly direct way to learn whether he was in fact alone here now. Linguistics could wait.
Fuck. He was just going to have to get up and face his idiocy. It had seemed like a decent enough plan, hiding out over here. Juvenile, maybe, but still decent enough. He frowned. If Snape had eventually returned, then he probably would have started searching in some methodical way, because he was definitely methodical. Harry imagined his expression, refusing to betray concern as he moved about the room calling. And of course, since he'd have started with the most likely places, and there was no bloody reason for Harry to be hunkered down in the far corner, he couldn't just get up and go somewhere else, because by now Snape would already have been there, and if they were both moving, then--wait, but what if Snape wasn't moving. What if he'd managed to spring some sort of trap? They were obviously trapped here, anyway, so it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that there were things they didn't know. Actually, it was completely within the realm of possibility, since obviously they didn't know basic things like how to fucking see each other.
Shit. Harry blew out a breath and pushed himself up to stand. "I'm an idiot," he said. Snape tended to appreciate directness, after all.
No answer. But then, that hadn't been a question, and even if Snape had heard it, outrage might not outweigh stubbornness.
"Do you agree?"
No answer. Fuck. All right, start with the door. He got within several feet and repeated himself, then tried the carving, the bed, the door again, and finally the makeshift toilet, each time being careful to phrase his statements in the form of a question in order to compel an answer. None came.
Right, so now what? He supposed he could look again for his scepter-piece, since that at least would be productive when--even thinking if was a little alarming, so until it became necessary, he thought he'd stick with when--they located each other again, he'd have news to offer. Maybe.
He looked under the bed again, then went back to the door to check for Snape. He felt about under the broken-down piece of furniture that had once been a chest of drawers. He was a little afraid it might actually collapse on his hand if he so much as breathed on it, but he wanted to be thorough. When the crystal wasn't there, he made another quick Snape-checking pass and then pulled back the tattered covers on the bed, which mostly raised an absurd amount of dust--maybe fine sand, actually, as gritty as it felt--and left him sneezing until he dropped to his hands and knees in an effort to protect his still-sore ribs from the force of the repeated expulsions of air.
At least, he thought, if Snape passed by and heard that, he might stop and ask if Harry were all right. Maybe. Depending on how pissed off he was that Harry had wandered off in the first place.
Finally, his sinuses throbbing and his eyes watering like mad, he pushed up to his feet again and made another trip to the door. "Stape? Cad you hear be?" Fantastic, now he sounded like he'd been hit by a frog hex of some sort, and his head felt like there had been an unfortunate period of confusion between it and a football during a particularly intense world cup match. Snape still didn't answer, so Harry looked around, then stopped, frowning, as an odd glow caught his eye in the vicinity of the carving. It hadn't been there a few minutes ago, he was certain, so what had changed? He sneezed two more times and hugged his arm in tight against his ribcage in support, groaning as he went to investigate.
"Potter?"
"Oh, thagk fuck. Yeah, I've been busy being ad idiot." Harry was glad to hear his voice becoming somewhat less altered, though his throat was still scratchy and his eyes still felt as though they had had a difficult interaction with a scrubbing agent. "And believe me, I know it. There's really no need to tell me. Are you as glad to hear me as I am you?"
"Once again, I remind you that I am unable to offer a suitable response when you ask questions whose answers lie outside my range of experience."
"Oh. I wasn't trying to force an answer, anyway. It was rhetorical. And I'm really fucking glad to hear your voice. Oh, wait. Is your carving glowing?"
"It is; I had approached in order to investigate. I assume your accidental recovery of me stemmed from the same impulse."
"Yeah. It was just, you were gone so long I thought maybe you were being a shit on purpose--"
"I cannot imagine what might lead you to suppose I would 'be a shit' on purpose."
Harry blinked, then laughed, groaning as that didn't really help the rib situation. "Yeah, no, I have no idea. Anyway, so I decided to be a pain in your arse by not being there when you returned. And then I noticed that this would mean I had no idea whether you were all right, and then I went looking for you, and then I didn't find you, and then as long as I was moving about I checked a few more places, and didn't find you, and--"
"--the world ended in the fiery commencement of a supernova before you managed to complete your train of thought, and I died wondering whether you had a point. What is it that has you moaning as though you've been interning with Myrtle?"
Harry laughed again (and groaned again). "Fine, I'll sum up. In looking for you, I also looked more for the crystal, which led to me pulling up the blankets on the bed, which were more than a little dusty. When I first arrived, I landed on the bloody crystal, which broke some ribs. I did rudimentary healing, but it turns out sneezing a couple hundred times is counterproductive as far as healing one's ribs. Why?"
"I was merely curious. And to answer your much earlier question, in fact, I had been concerned when you did not answer me upon my return, and was searching for you as well when I observed the change to the carving. I am--I would rather not state this more than once--therefore pleased to hear your voice, as well."
"Cool."
There was an awkward pause, and Harry wondered whether, after all that, they'd managed to lose contact again, and then Snape spoke. "I believe that may be the first time in all my life I or anything associated with me has been referred to as 'cool.' However, this matters not at all to our current situation. Shall we look at the carving?"
Harry nodded, then rolled his eyes at himself and said, "Yes. I've got kind of a bluish glow that seems to be emanating from the deeper crevices, and--hold on!" He leaned to the right, then to the left, then crouched to look up from under. "And the crevices go all the way through and are wider on the right. This thing opens."
"I suppose you think that since you went looking for the scepter, I should volunteer to touch the suddenly-aglow figure?"
Harry pursed his lips. "Nah, I think I'm pretty used to being the one who leaps first. But, I was just sort of thinking--there was a kind of blue cast to the light in the chamber we were in before we wound up here, don't you think?"
"Yes. You believe this is related?"
"I'm wondering. I mean, it had the power to bring us here, after who knows how many centuries, right?"
"That would seem obvious."
"Shut it; I'm thinking aloud. It brought us here, split us up, and then vanished, and we didn't see a damn thing. And then when we started looking for each other, it started glowing? What if… Okay, I'll be back here eventually, but like, look for me some more?" Harry stepped out of range without waiting for an answer, and then started looking for Snape, too. At the bed. At the window. In the middle of the room. He watched the carving, too, and the glow brightened every time he called out for Snape. Sometimes it also brightened in between, and Harry wondered if those were the times Snape called for him, and then, by coincidence, they found each other before the broken-down chest, both calling out together. The glow went nearly white, and Harry smiled. "It's like it's happy when we want each other. Uh. Not like that."
"Potter, I said not to return to the topic. Clearly 'not like that,' since else it would always observe me, and you would be irrelevant."
"Let's go look at it some more. Wait, what?" Harry had already started walking, and hoped Snape had, too. "Why would I be irrelevant?"
Snape sighed. "Smaller words, then. If it were looking for that kind of want, then my status would be constant, and so would yours. As you do not 'want' me, then it would hardly take that into account, would it?"
"Yes it would."
"Please explain your logic."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "You know, I've always thought this conversation would be awkward and that I wouldn't be able to look at you, but this is taking things a bit far on the can't-look front, and also, it turns out I'd rather be able to look."
"If that was an attempt to explain logic, I mark it as a T."
"It wasn't, but you didn't ask a question."
"Why would you be relevant, given my assumptions?"
"Fucker. It's only fair, I know, but still. Because I always want you, too. Shall we see if it's cooperation it likes, or shall I just try and grab it, again."
"I just did. It sparked at me."
Harry opened his eyes. "Oh. I wasn't looking. Uh. Right. Together, then?"
"On three, I suppose?"
"Of course." Harry counted three and grasped the upper right corner of the carving, pulling to open the front panel.
The panel crackled with energy, not so much sparking as sparkling, for a few seconds, but eventually it pulled open, revealing the unbroken scepter behind the façade. And then, as Harry stepped to the side slightly, Snape stepped the other way.
Visibly.
As though they had somehow managed to pull apart out of the same body.
Harry gaped, partly because he hadn't quite expected that, and partly because it felt very strange, like passing through someone's imagination somehow.
Snape turned to look at him. "Perhaps it would prefer we took it together?"
"It does seem to be in charge," Harry agreed. "I'm just curious: is it still making you answer me?"
Snape paused and considered. "No," he finally said.
"So it only fucks with us if we're not cooperating."
"We were cooperating earlier, in our efforts to determine our location."
"Yeah, but there was also arguing. And disagreeing. Plus there was me hiding from you immediately before it decided to glow."
"I agree we were not being entirely cooperative. However, if that is the scepter's notion of a serious enough problem to transport us here and keep us separated, then I submit that once again we find ourselves dealing with dark magic."
"Or just… I don't know. Someone like Luna would probably think it made perfectly good sense. She doesn't think people need to disagree over much of anything. Except evil, but I imagine she has her own definition and delineation of that, anyway."
"Most likely." Snape had folded an arm across his chest and had his elbow resting on it so he could tap his chin as he mused, "I suppose that makes the magic merely batshit insane."
Harry couldn't really argue with the characterization; Luna was wonderful and warm and giving and barmier than anyone had a right to be, whilst still managing a relatively unexceptional life as she did. "So should we try to… capture it, I guess?"
"We might as well. Although if it lands us in Outer Mongolia, please commence cooperating with me immediately so I do not have to suffer through another discussion of chamber pots and mutual use thereof."
Harry blinked. "D'you really think we'll end up anywhere ridiculous again?"
"No, I rather would like to conclude this quest and return to England within the fortnight, and if we do, then I'd rather not argue for half a day again, as continual jumps about the globe via Portkey prototype would seem contrary to that goal, and besides, we've no way of knowing whether it will, at any point, cease to operate properly. It is quite old."
"All right. Would you like to count this time?"
"Are you asking me to demonstrate that I do know how? Because I should think at this point we'd have established that in academic subjects I am with rare exception the better-read of us, and I'm certain counting to three is a given for that."
Harry rolled his eyes. "No, it's known as courtesy, Snape, to offer one's partner a turn even at something minor, and in this case it would mean you were in charge of this bit, but whatever, I'll do it, you great--"
The scepter threw out a shower of sparks.
"Uh, I mean, I'm happy to do it, if you'd rather," Harry added.
Snape merely smirked and counted to three.
Just at the 'ee' of three, they both reached, perfectly coordinated to grasp the shaft together, and as they did, it pulled them in close together, chest to chest, and lifted them back into the air to zoom away to whatever destination it had in mind this time.
Moments later they were where they'd begun, the scepter gripped tight between them, Harry's free arm wrapped around Snape's waist as Snape's curled around Harry's shoulders.
Harry looked up at Snape. "All right, not Mongolia, then."
"No, but it's not done, as you put it, fucking with us. And you might as well go ahead and call me Severus, since it's already established that we're not merely disinterested associates." Snape scowled.
"What?"
"Well, I assume it's both of us it's affecting."
"Affecting how?" Harry wet his lips with his tongue. "I'm not being compelled to speak again or anything, and it's not like I'm uncomfortable."
"Yes, but have you tried to let go of me?"
"No. Should I?"
Snape's--Severus's--scowl deepened. "It wasn't so much a matter of whether you should, as whether you could."
Harry nodded. He wet his lips again, then said, "Right. So, uh. All that stuff we talked about when it was forcing us to be truthful--"
"Is irrelevant to whether I am allowed to take my hands off you. I would prefer, if we were of a mind to alter the terms of our interaction to include touching, that it might be voluntary."
"It is voluntary, you idiot," Harry said. "Just because I'm unable to let go doesn't mean I want to, so even if I could, we'd still be here.
"It is not voluntary, and I shall see your idiot and raise you an imbecile." Severus tried to pull his arm free of Harry, which only moved them both half a step back--or forward, for Severus--as they followed the tug. Harry didn't care; he was too amused that Severus had adopted the poker terminology he'd taught him in the evenings after days of research in dusty libraries. "If it is compelled, it is not voluntary regardless of whether one would do it anyway."
"All right, I'll give you that, but look, how's this. Let's see what it thinks we need to do, and then when it's satisfied, we can come back and do those things again of our own free will or something. Will that make you feel better? Or, we can resist a while and see if Mongolia is on the agenda."
Severus sighed. "I would prefer not to visit anywhere else unexpected, though I suppose the logical expectation is that it would merely take us back to our cell and force us to cooperate again." He glanced away for a second, then back. "And if it thinks in order to demonstrate full cooperation, we need to, let's see. Perhaps it wants us to fumble with each other's clothing."
"Works for me," Harry said with a shrug. "Oh, I know! Maybe it wants kissing."
"I believe if we get to clothing-fumbling, there's an excellent chance we will already be past the point of a simple peck on the cheek, Potter."
Harry grinned. "Probably, but I mean, unless you're suggesting I start by attempting to grope you with my feet, since my hands are both engaged, it seems like we might as well start with the kissing and see if that lets us change the hand situation."
Severus pursed his lips, clearly intending to come up with yet another tart remark on the subject, but Harry figured he had plausible deniability as to not understanding that wasn't a kissing sort of action, and leaned up and forward, planting a smacking kiss on Severus's mouth.
Severus, the bastard, not only wasn't surprised, but was ready. His hand freed quickly enough to come up and catch the back of Harry's head, holding him in as Severus opened his mouth, extending the kiss and pressing his tongue into Harry's mouth, sucking and tasting until Harry knew he was making ridiculous and needy little whimpers as his hands also came free and immediately bunched up great handfuls of Severus's lapels.
Or his non-lapels; they were hardly dressed formally.
It didn't matter; Harry gripped hard and held Severus close, pressing right back with his own tongue until he thought to let loose with one hand and let it slide down, tugging at Severus's hem and pushing up again under it until he found dry soft skin and a smattering of hair down the center of his belly.
Snape broke the kiss and pulled back, staring at Harry heatedly. "That's not your foot."
"Glad to learn you're still familiar with basic anatomy," Harry said, stroking the soft hairs with the back of a knuckle before sliding the hand back down just an inch and grasping Severus's belt-buckle. "It let us both let go as soon as there was kissing--I think our long-hunted treasure is a bloody voyeur."
"Perhaps its creator was an early aficionado of Mills and Boone."
"Early in the sense of prior to the existence? Well, anything is possible. Perhaps its creator was the first author for the line. Or the corporation's top executive or some such." Harry grinned at the thought. "Or maybe it's just that the scepter has gone mad somehow, in centuries of waiting for us. Still nothing so far from voluntary you're disagreeing with it?"
Severus shook his head and brought both his hands down to cup Harry's arse, squeezing and kneading as he returned to the kiss and trapped Harry's hand where it was.
Harry kissed back, didn't worry about his trapped hand, and wordlessly summoned his wand into his free one, Banishing his clothes as soon as it slapped into his palm.
"It might have been easier to reach your goal, had you removed my clothing," Severus murmured against his lips, running his fingers over the lingering damage to Harry's ribs. He muttered another--a better--healing charm, then added, "In addition, if this is exemplary of your level of patience, I'm not certain whether I'll want to continue this beyond this experience, as I prefer to take my time."
"Didn't want to assume," Harry said, "but I'm more than happy to ditch your clothes, too. And there's nothing wrong with wanting you now and later, you know."
Severus tilted his head in agreement, then found his own wand and Banished his clothes, as well. "You may have a point."
"Of course I do." The hand that had been on the belt buckle, no longer restricted, slid down further, and twisted round to touch, pads of fingers grazing coarsening hair as it went.
"Going straight for the prize, are we?" Severus asked between nips at Harry's lips and jawline.
"Calling your prick a prize, are we?" Harry answered, just as he grasped it and squeezed.
"You seem to be finding it acceptable." Severus said, echoing the move. "Unless you usually find yourself aroused by things which you find unacceptable."
Harry wrinkled his nose as he moved his hand slowly kneading as he stroked. "I think that's an oxymoron or something. One would be in a constant state of frustration looking for that which both appealed and repulsed."
"One would. However, I suppose this topic can wait." Severus moved them both abruptly toward the sleeping rolls they'd left out from the night previous, when they hadn't been certain they'd uncover the object itself quickly enough to avoid spending another night in the tomb.
Harry sighed theatrically. "If it must." He dropped down on his arse, pulling Severus with him and wincing slightly as they hit the floor--but it was the fastest way to get horizontal, short of some bizarre trick of in-place Apparation, and Apparating in here was one of the things they'd agreed not to do anyway. The bruise that would surely develop on his backside was worth it, though; the change of position meant their cocks were rubbing together between them, and Severus leaned to the side enough to free their hands, placing both of his over Harry's shoulders and thrusting.
Hooking his calves behind Severus's knees and pulling him in tighter, Harry curled forward enough to capture his mouth in another kiss that brought his chest down as well. It slowed them a bit, being plastered together from hip to jaw, but Harry thought all things being equal, the increase of pressure was worth the decrease of mobility, and he concluded, when Severus let himself be moved, that he agreed.
He let his hands wander over lean shoulders and down the bumpy knobs of spine, and promised himself that next time he'd get to taste all that skin. For now, he let go long enough to chuck his glasses off to the side, and focused on making Severus lose all control.
Neither of them noticed as the scepter, which had floated out from between them as soon as the kissing began, drifted slowly to the ground and rolled toward Harry's bag, where it tilted itself just slightly to lift up over the lip and settled into place with a wriggle that no observer could help but call cheerful.
When Severus came, it shuddered and wriggled again, then went still.