"Why does pleasure look so much like pain?" Harry said. He was lying with his back against the wall, spooned behind Snape, his flaccid cock still inside his partner. He loved these quiet moments after they had fucked, when he could still feel the connection, and magic was more than a distant memory. One day, he would stretch out his hand, and it would come back to him, right through the wards and the walls. In bed with Snape, he could nearly believe it.
"Do you know what the French call orgasm?" Snape said. "La petite mort. The little death."
"I don't want to die." Harry's cock slipped free when Snape sat up. The damp and the cold hit him with double force, and he grabbed for Snape's blanket.
"Don't," Snape said, getting up. The bed didn't make a sound; they had stabilised it with Harry's triumphal stones. "It's time to have a wash." He pulled away the blanket, and Harry shivered.
Since they had begun to share their water rations, Harry's hygiene had improved. While they used Harry's ration for drinking, the water in Snape's bucket was enough for both of them to wash thoroughly. Harry took the wet cloth Snape handed him and rubbed his face.
"I can't help wondering why you did it," he said, pointing at the hole in the wall. "I mean, the benefits of our arrangement are more than obvious, of course." He scratched his head. "And don't think I'm not grateful and all that," he hastily added, blushing. "It's just that you don't strike me as the social type. I always thought you'd be more comfortable on your own."
"You still don't see me as human, do you, Potter?" If Snape was angry, he didn't show it. His face remained expressionless as he cleaned his body. "And if I had an ulterior motive," he said slowly, as if to himself, "why would I confide in you?"
Harry looked up then, but Snape shook his head, his eyebrow slightly raised. "Tell me again, why are you here?" he said.
"Nothing has changed since the last time you asked," Harry said, annoyed. "I don't fucking know."
Slipping back into his robes, Snape watched Harry clean his privates. "Lucius attacked you in your sleep, bound you with chains that restrained your magic, Transfigured your pyjamas into prison robes and then brought you here with Goyle's help?"
Harry nodded. "He was keyed to the Grimmauld wards, so it wasn't a problem," he said bitterly. He could still feel the cold of the chains creeping through his body, replacing the fire of his magic with ice. He could still feel Lucius's hand on his head, ruffling his hair for the very last time. I'm sorry, Harry, truly sorry, but you leave me no other choice. "He said he was sorry," Harry said. "He said he was sorry and that it was all my fault." He kicked the water bucket, knocking it over. "Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck." Clutching his aching toe, he watched the water run in rivulets on the floor. "Fuck."
Snape was at his side, wrapping a blanket around him. "Shhh," he said. "Shhh. I know what an infuriating bastard Lucius is. His apologies are even more poisonous than his crimes."
For a short while, Harry wallowed in the unexpected sympathy, taking comfort in Snape's touch. Then he freed himself and donned his robes. "Why do you ask the same question over and over again? I can't see how it still matters."
"I want to understand his motives." Snape stared at him with such intensity that it made Harry wonder if it was possible to do Legilimency inside the Azkaban wards. "Why did he do it? It makes no sense."
"He wanted to become Minister." Harry shrugged. "Makes all the sense in the world to me."
Snape shook his head. "Wasn't he already your second in command?"
"He was Vice Minister for Magic, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Special Emissary for the Integration of Muggle-borns."
"Now that's what I call putting the fox in charge of the henhouse." Snape gave a short, derisive laugh.
"He had some really great ideas," Harry said. "He instituted a godparent system. Each Muggle-born child is now assigned to a magic godmother or -father. He founded wizarding kindergartens and primary schools. He promised that a child would never again have to suffer from the same neglect and maltreatment that I had endured at the Dursleys'." He was like a father to me. Harry looked down at his feet. "Yeah, I suppose I really am the dunderhead you always said I was. Are you happy now?" He raised his head and met Snape's inquisitive stare. "After I killed Voldemort, I was badly hurt and drained of my magic. Lucius could have easily let me die in the burning Shack, and the Death Eaters might have still won the war. He decided to save me instead. How could I not have trusted him?"
Snape smirked. "Saint Malfoy. How amusing. The halo goes well with the hair." He heaved himself up onto the upper bunk of the bed. "I don't understand it. With you as figurehead, Lucius's position was secure. Why would he jeopardise it just for a title? I know him; his greed for power exceeds even his vanity." With his legs crossed, the bony knees visible under his robes, Snape resembled a fakir, and Harry wondered if he'd start levitating any moment. Instead, Snape scratched his beard. "Tell me, Potter, did you quarrel? Was there a disagreement between you, something you refused to do? Did you in any way threaten his position?"
"No. Never." Harry pushed his big toe into one of the rivulets on the floor. "I hated being Minister," he said. "I only accepted the job because Lucius urged me to." The wizarding world needs you. We need someone as pure and loving as you to remind us of our own goodness. I need you, Harry. "He promised to do whatever he could to help me, and I trusted him completely."
There was silence for a while. Harry drew furious zigzag lines with his toe. When he looked up again, he saw Snape raising a finger as if about to speak. "No," Harry said. "No more questions from you. It's my turn now. So tell me, Snape, why are you here?"
The stones that held the bed in place shook and rattled as Snape rose to his full height. He loomed over Harry like an avenging angel, and his voice boomed. "I am the thorn in the side of Lucius's sainthood. I am the spanner in his works." Tilting his head, he wiped the spittle from his mouth. "I am the one who saved your life, Potter. That's why I'm here."
"What?" Harry had to take hold of the bed frame to keep himself upright. His legs wobbled like jelly.
"You don't believe me?"
"I ... I don't know what to think."
"You believed him, of course." Snape reached for the window bars, but then he paused for a moment, turned back and sneered at Harry. "Did you never wonder why the Death Eater who Apparated you to safety didn't allow you to see his face? Why he stopped your hands when you grabbed for his mask?"
"Why?" Harry couldn't hear his own voice. He cleared his throat and repeated the question.
"I was afraid of your reaction. I didn't trust you not to scream blue murder the moment you saw who had saved you."
Harry lowered his head. "I probably would have tried to kill you."
"Yes, Potter. I know." Snape climbed the window. He'd found a way to sit on the wide sill, his legs dangling outside. Harry had to strain to hear him.
"I couldn't Apparate too far; we were both still needed in the battle. I planned to take you to the infirmary, notify Kingsley of the Dark Lord's demise and help the Order to round up the remaining Death Eaters. So I Apparated us to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Stealth was of the utmost importance. When you asked who I was and tried to unmask me, I ..."
"You captured my hand and put it on my lips."
"... gestured you to be silent and to stay where you were. Then I went to see if the coast was clear. Lucius's Stunner hit me in the back almost immediately. I failed."
Shaking his head over and over again, Harry slid to the floor.
*
"Snape."
"Shut up, Potter."
"Snape." There was no answer. Snape was still sitting on the window sill, clinging to the bars like the caged animal he was. All Harry could see was his back, grey against the grey wards, rigid. "Why don't you come down? We could ... you know, comfort each other." Heat crept up his cheeks, and Harry choked back the lump in his throat. That simply wouldn't do. "Listen, Snape," he started anew, "I want to thank you. Saving my life, that was ... pretty amazing of you." Harry winced. He sounded exactly like the idiot Snape believed him to be. No wonder he ignored him. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I really mean it."
From the direction of the window came a long sigh. "Potter, can't you be quiet for a minute?"
Harry sighed back. How typical of Snape, he thought. He wasn't the social type, after all. If he wanted to be left alone, though, why didn't he return to his own cell?
The silence stretched and stretched. The water on the floor had drenched Harry's robes, and he was cold and dirty. Biting his lips to keep the swear words down, he got back on his feet. Merlin only knew how long it would take for his robes to dry in the damp Azkaban climate. Had there really been such a thing as magic once, a power that allowed him to get warm, clean and comfortable with a simple swish and flick? The memory of his wand brought tears to his eyes. "Damn it, Snape," he said. "What are you doing up there? The wards won't change, whether you watch them or not."
"I'm not watching the wards," Snape said. "I'm paying my respects to a comrade being released to freedom."
"You mean, he died?"
"That's the only way, Potter." Snape's voice was barely audible.
"Do you want to die?" Harry asked, equally quiet.
Without another word, Snape slid down to the floor and left through the hole in the wall. The all-encompassing sadness that was always there, just below the surface, threatened to burst free. Harry shook his head to hold it at bay and climbed up to the window. Outside, a black gondola was returning to the berth at the foot of the tower. There was no sign of the dead man; the bier must have already breached the wards.
"Good luck, mate," Harry said. "Good luck on your next adventure."
*
"Here," Snape said, thrusting a small bundle at Harry. "Does that answer your question?"
Huddled deep under the blanket, Harry was still freezing. "What is it?" he said, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
"You asked if I wanted to die. See for yourself."
The object Snape handed him was wrapped in faded green velvet. Harry stroked the fine material with reverent fingers, careful not to sully it with prison grime. Below the smooth surface, he could feel something hard and pointed. His whole body shook from the cold as he sat up to unwrap the bundle. When he finally saw what it was, his shaking became uncontrollable. The bundle slipped from his fingers and landed on the blanket. There, before Harry, in the middle of a pool of green velvet, lay something that was at the same time so beautiful and so terrible that it took his breath away. Sparkling with emeralds and diamonds, the silver dagger was as much a precious piece of jewellery as a deadly weapon. Its sinister promise of freedom compelled Harry to run a finger along the blade to test it for sharpness. When he retrieved his finger, it was adorned with a droplet of blood. Harry stared at it with unseeing eyes.
"Lucius gave it to me the day he brought me here."
Snape's words roused Harry from his state of shock. "What?" he asked. "Why?"
"Isn't that obvious?" Snape's smirk had never been uglier. He leant in so close that his breath ghosted over Harry's face like caressing fingers. His voice was a dangerous whisper. "He said he liked the idea of something of him inside me for the very last time."
"You and he?" Harry gasped. It was incredible. Lucius had always seemed to be a model husband and father, loving and caring for his family. So that had been a lie, too. "Did you love him?" he asked, still not believing what he had heard.
"I wouldn't call it love, exactly," Snape said. "When I was a student, I worshipped the ground he walked on. I'd have done anything for him. Being deemed worthy of having his prick up my arse was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. Or so I thought." He snorted. Harry folded his arms to stop himself from shaking. "When he sold me to a sadistic madman to further his own ambitions for power, I made a promise to myself that one day he'd be on his knees, begging for his life."
Snape's face was taut, almost ethereal, and his eyes burnt feverishly. He reminded Harry of a martyr saint in the midst of a vision. Harry took Snape's hand in his, making a silent vow to take revenge on Lucius. His eye fell on the dagger once more. Yet, it would be so easy, Harry thought. A short moment of pain, and he'd be forever free of these walls and wards. "Have you ever been tempted to use it?" he asked.
Snape shook his head. "There's something like magic to it," he said. "Whenever despair threatens to weaken me, I take the dagger out of its hiding place and hold it. It gives me strength, as if it's whispering to me and telling me not to give up." He looked at Harry with an air of challenge. "Do you think I've gone mad, Potter?"
"You're much saner than I am," Harry said, squeezing Snape's hand. "And you're very brave." He stretched out his hand and touched the dagger. After a long while, he took it. "I won't give up," he said, raising it to the wards outside. "I won't die."
Harry's teeth were still shattering, and the dagger shook in his hands. Then Snape wrapped his arms around him, and Harry stopped shaking. Snape interlaced their fingers on the handle. "We won't die," he said, and it was as if he'd uttered a spell. Harry could feel warmth spreading through his body. He believed Snape.
"We won't die," he repeated. His voice was steady.
"Now get out of those wet robes, idiot," Snape said, breaking the mood. "Believe me, Potter, getting a cold isn't the best survival strategy."
Harry put the dagger back on the bed and obeyed. Much later, when they moved under the blanket to share their warmth, it fell to the floor, forgotten for the moment.
*
"Did Lucius know you were gay?" Snape asked, panting.
"I'll thank you not to talk about Lucius when you're in bed with me," Harry said through gritted teeth, intensifying his thrusts. Ever since he'd learned of Snape's past, he was obsessed by the desire to erase Snape's memory of Lucius and prove that he, Harry Potter, was the better lover by far. "Don't touch yourself," he said, gripping Snape's arm. "I want you to come on my cock alone."
"Impressive, Potter." Between stuttered moans, Snape's words were barely intelligible. "Very impressive indeed. Who would have thought you had it in you?"
"Don't forget what you've got in you," Harry said, slightly changing the angle. Sweat was running down his face, and he had to close his eyes to keep them from burning. His hands were busy restraining Snape's arms.
Snape's answer wasn't coherent anymore, and he came with a strangled whimper. After a few more quick thrusts, Harry followed, biting Snape's shoulder as his body shuddered helplessly.
Harry wanted nothing more than to fall asleep immediately, but Snape, always practical, didn't allow it. He reached for the water bucket, took the cloth and wrung it out with his hands. After rubbing the come from his belly, he turned around and cleaned Harry's sensitive cock. The ice-cold water and rough fabric jerked Harry out of a pleasant drowsiness and forced him back to the reality of his cell. Snape's next words were even more sobering. "Did Lucius know you were gay?" he asked once more.
"What the hell does it matter?" Harry's voice shook with anger. "Does it turn you on, talking about your old lover? When I fuck you, do you think of him?"
"Potter," Snape said, his voice a sardonic reminder of his times as a teacher, "stop being so dense. I'm merely attempting to confirm or disprove a hypothesis."
"What hypothesis?"
"I believe the reason why Lucius brought you here is because he found out about your secret sex life."
"Sounds like a Prophet headline." At that moment, Harry hated Snape. Why couldn't he just shut up and leave Harry to his dreams of freedom and magic? He pulled up the blanket and cuddled demonstratively against Snape's bony form. "It's stupid anyway," he said with a yawn. "He is, after all, gay himself."
"I wouldn't call him that," Snape said. "Lucius is a narcissist, and obsessed with power. He used to fuck everyone who adored his beauty. As long as his paramour was useful, he didn't care if it was a witch, a wizard or a Flobberworm."
"Yuck," Harry said. "I still don't understand what my sex life has to do with anything."
"Think, Potter." Snape touched Harry's forehead. The gesture was surprisingly gentle, nearly affectionate. "What would have happened if you had been outed as gay?"
"Dunno," Harry said, leaning into Snape's caressing fingers. "Nothing, I suppose. The wizarding world loves me; people would've accepted it."
Snape's hand stilled. "Your arrogance is second only to your foolishness," he said. Despite the harsh words, his voice was soft. "It would have been the worst scandal in wizarding history. Homosexuality is regarded as the most dangerous threat to our world, more dangerous even than inbreeding or blood treason."
"That doesn't make sense," Harry said. "Those who warn against inbreeding denounce terms like blood treason and welcome Muggle-borns with open arms, and the members of the Pureblood faction close their eyes to the dangers of inbreeding."
"Precisely. One-hundred points to Gryffindor." Snape traced a triangle on Harry's head with his finger. "As much as opinions differ within the wizarding world, there's one thing each and every respectable member of our society has in common: fear and loathing of homosexuality. They hold it accountable for the declining birth rate. After all, aren't the children our future, our only hope of survival?" Snape sounded more sardonic than ever, and his finger became entangled in the knots of Harry's hair. "A gay sex scandal means certain downfall, even for the saviour of the wizarding world, and your downfall would be the end of Lucius's power. He couldn't allow you to imperil his position."
"But," Harry said, scratching the back of his head where Snape had pulled his hair, "Lucius didn't know."
"Really? You are no stranger to wizarding gay subculture," Snape said, tracing the triangle again. "What makes you so sure that you weren't seen? That there wasn't a blackmail attempt? That Rita Skeeter hadn't already drafted the most sensational story of her career?"
"No way." Harry vigorously shook his head. "I'm really good at glamours. Trust me, no one ever recognised me."
Snape watched Harry for a moment. Then he nodded. "Did you tell anybody?"
"No. Yes. I mean, I had to tell Ginny, of course. She had the right to know why our relationship didn't work out."
There was a long silence. Snape stroked Harry's shoulder. "Stupid, idiot boy," he finally said, and it sounded like a term of endearment. "How did she react?"
"She was furious." Pervert! Filthy, disgusting pervert! "She threw me out. She forbade me ever to come near her or her family again."
"Do you think she told them about you?"
"Dunno." Harry shrugged. "Mr and Mrs Weasley were awfully nice to me after the break-up. They said their love for me would never change, that I'd always be their honorary son, and they repeatedly invited me to the Burrow. I didn't go, of course."
"Of course."
Harry closed his eyes. It was odd, he thought, how little Ginny's disapproval mattered to him now. Yet it was even odder to think how much it had mattered in the past. Why had he given her venom so much power over him? Why had he almost believed her? He snuggled deeper under the blanket, relishing the feeling of Snape's body pressed against his. That he had made peace with his sexuality in a damp prison cell, and with Snape of all people, that was the oddest thing of all.
He must have fallen asleep because, when Snape shook his shoulder, he jolted awake. "What happened next?" Snape asked impatiently.
"Next?"
"After you and Miss Weasley parted ways, did anything unusual happen?"
"No. The Prophet and Witch Weekly had field days, of course. To tell you the truth, it was more like several field months, but, thankfully, they focused on the search for my new love and left Ginny, by and large, alone. They organised all kind of beauty competitions, and I had to meet a lot of boring witches as a result. Lucius actually liked the development. He said it was good for my image."
"You call that nothing unusual, Potter?" Snape sounded weary.
"It wasn't," Harry said. "The press was after me all the time. They were completely in the dark about the real reason for the break-up, believe me. I can't even imagine their reaction had they found out."
"I'm sure," Snape said. "Was there anything else? Anyone? A new love maybe, or a friend you thought you could trust?"
Draco, Harry thought, and the truth hit him like a dagger in the heart. "It was Draco," he said. "He must have let it slip to Lucius."
"Draco Malfoy knew?"
"Well ... he and I ... he was my ..." Harry fell silent. What had they actually been to each other? Draco had never touched him. They hadn't shared so much as a kiss.
"Out with it," Snape said, shaking Harry's shoulder. "What do you want to say? That you had an affair with Draco?" There was a tone of incredulity in his voice that Harry hated.
"It wasn't an affair," he said defiantly. "We were in love."
"Don't play me for a fool, Potter." Snape's fingers dug into Harry's shoulder like the jaws of a steel trap. "Draco Malfoy is incapable of love, and he's the wizarding world's greatest homophobe. I know what I'm talking about. In his second year at Hogwarts, he caught Lucius and me in flagrante delicto in my office after a Quidditch match. He had a horrible temper tantrum, and he tried to blackmail me afterwards. I had to tell his father, of course. Lucius's punishment must have been severe. Draco never forgave me for it. He took it out on every single homosexual student in Slytherin. Bullstrode and Zabini were his favourite victims. Trust me, Potter, he made their life hell."
"I never noticed," Harry whispered. The dagger in his heart twisted. Ice spread through his veins and into every capillary, leaving him numb and freezing, and the worst thing was that he believed every word Snape had said.
"That's Slytherin House for you," Snape said. "We always show a united front to the rest of the world, even as we're destroying each other." His grip loosened and turned into a caress.
"I'll never understand it." Harry burrowed deeper into Snape's embrace. He needed every bit of warmth he could get. "I didn't start the whole thing," he said. "He came to me. Why? Why did he tell me he loved me?"
Snape pulled Harry closer. "Most probably it was his idea of having fun," he said. "It's also possible that he acted on his father's orders. After you called it off with Miss Weasley, Lucius might have suspected something. It's just like him to subject you to a test." Snape's voice was as soothing as his caresses, and Harry didn't listen to the words anymore. He fell asleep to a whispered promise, "Revenge."
*
With his back hunched and his knees bowed, Snape resembled a giant question mark. He stood next to the hole in the wall, and his hands twitched as if he were struggling with himself. Harry didn't know how long he'd been standing there like that; he hadn't moved since Harry had opened his eyes. When Harry raised his head to ask what was going on, Snape immediately straightened. "Potter," he said, "do you remember our conversation about my motives for digging that hole?"
"Sure." Harry scrambled off the bed to take a pee and nearly dropped the plank when he heard Snape's next words.
"I've been trying to dig my way out, to freedom."
"How?" Harry leant the plank against the wall and relieved himself into the pit. "It's impossible to dig a hole through the wards. The thought alone is ridiculous," he said, putting the plank back in place, "and it was the wrong direction anyway." He pointed at the window that was far from the tunnel in the adjacent wall.
Snape nodded. "Fortunately, yes," he said, "but I didn't know that then. May I invite you to come and see my cell?" He gestured for Harry to climb through the hole.
Ever since Snape had become his lover, they'd spent their time together in Harry's cell. Snape had been back to his own cell to fetch food and water and to return the empty containers for the guards to swap, of course, but he'd never been gone for long, not even that time when he'd left after watching the funeral bier. He'd returned with the dagger soon afterwards. Harry suddenly wondered why. Snape seemed to set such a high value on his privacy, yet he'd never sought solitude. He would only ever climb the window and bark at Harry to shut up. "After you, please," he now said, his raised eyebrow leaving no room for questions.
The tunnel stretched longer than Harry had expected, and there were several large and protruding stones that were difficult to pass. He repeatedly hit his head. Having finally reached the other side, the first thing he noticed was the different colour of the surroundings. He'd left behind the diffuse grey of the wards; Snape's cell was bathed in dirty yellow light that flickered on and off. The reason for this became clear as soon as Harry stepped inside. The circular room, so small that Harry could touch opposite sides of the wall with his outstretched hands, was completely windowless. A small iron cage was the only light source. It dangled from the ceiling on a rusty chain and harboured a fairy, the sorriest individual of its species Harry had ever seen. Partly hidden behind sagging and grimy wings, it nibbled on a withered cabbage leaf and produced a string of farts. Every time another cloud of stink erupted, the feeble light that emanated from its body flickered. "Welcome to my modest little home," Snape said, climbing out of the tunnel behind Harry.
"Yuck," Harry said, but then his eye fell on a heap of straw that had to be Snape's bed. The wall above it was covered with rows and rows of lines, scratched into the stone. "Is this what I think it is?" he said in awe. "Do you know what day it is? How long have we been here?"
Snape went to kneel on the straw and began to trace the lines with his finger. "More than one year after the final battle, Lucius brought me here from the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. It was the 23rd of September, 1999." Harry swallowed. Around that time he'd begun to plan the prison reform, delegating everything to Lucius. "Today's the 11th of May ..." Snape paused for what Harry thought was cheap effect, "... 2007"
"Bloody hell, that's nearly three years."
"Do you remember the exact date?" Snape asked.
"June 18th, 2004," Harry said, holding his nose as a fairy stink cloud erupted.
"It figures," Snape said into the darkness. "That was when I last saw Lucius."
"What?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. "He paid you a visit?"
When the light came on again, Snape was still kneeling with his back to Harry, tracing lines. "I started with the tunnel the following day. It took me nearly one and a half years to find out that I had chosen the wrong part of the wall. On February 7th, 2006, I heard you for the first time."
"Why did you carry on?" Harry said, kneeling down on the straw next to Snape.
"I already had spent too much energy on the tunnel to simply give up, and so I changed my plan." Snape ignored Harry's inquiring looks and continued before Harry could ask another question. "I found out it was you when we shook hands on April 29th, and on the 3rd of October 2006, the tunnel was completed."
"Wow," Harry said. He could see the dates on the wall, scratched in a neat column next to the calendar lines, together with other dates that had no meaning to Harry - Snape's triumphal stones. The actual stones from the tunnel were piled up against the wall and added to the claustrophobic atmosphere of the cell. "How do you do it?" Harry asked. In the beginning, Harry, too, had made an effort to keep a calendar, but after some time he hadn't even been sure anymore if the meals were delivered on a regular basis. "How can you tell that a day has passed?"
"Bowel movement," Snape said. "It's as reliable as clockwork." He quirked a corner of his mouth to a challenging not-quite-smile and, all of a sudden, Harry had the urgent desire to hug him.
*
Much later, Harry brushed straw off his skin, donned his robes and crawled through the tunnel to fetch a wet cloth for Snape. When he was finally cuddled against his lover, he asked the question that had been on his mind before Snape had distracted him. "What was your plan to break through the wards?"
"To die."
"What? But you said you didn't ..." Harry shook his head. He must have misheard.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Potter," Snape said, bursting out laughing. "I told you I don't want to die, and I mean it." He laughed so hard his face turned red. His entire body was shaking with convulsions, and tears were running down his cheeks. Frozen with shock and disbelief, Harry couldn't stop staring. If even Snape went mad in the end, all hope was lost.
Pulling himself together, Harry got Snape some water from his cell, and the fit finally ceased. "I apologise," Snape said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "That was completely uncalled for."
"It's all right." Harry wrapped his arms around Snape and stroked the bony shoulders. "It's all right. You needn't have a plan. Together we can think of something, I'm sure."
"I have a plan, Potter." Snape slipped out of Harry's arms and stood, becoming his old, imperious self. He turned away from Harry and to the wall, all the while talking in a low voice, as if to himself. "When Lucius last visited, he gave me a gift. It's a terrible gift, of course, and the idea behind it is just as cruel, malicious and twisted as the giver himself. Nevertheless, it's not without potential." Snape loosened a stone, took something out of the wall and carefully set it down on the straw in front of Harry. It was a small wooden box, carved with a pattern of skulls and snakes.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"It's a set of two potions I once created for the Dark Lord. One is a powerful poison. When ingested, it kills within seconds, yet it preserves the drinker's body for eternity." Snape traced the carving of a snake with his finger, looking proud. "The other," he continued, "is the antidote. It resurrects the victim exactly one hour after a single drop has been applied to the tongue, irrespective of how much time has passed since the ingestion of the original potion. It can be used mere minutes afterwards, years, or even decades later."
"Are you ... are you sure it works?" Harry's mouth was dry, and he could barely swallow.
"The Dark Lord ordered a series of tests," Snape said. "He was very interested in the subjects' impressions of death."
"What does it feel like?" Harry asked, licking his cracked lips.
"The test subjects didn't have answers to the Dark Lord's questions. Death seems to be a great nothing, oblivion." Snape shrugged. "The potions worked perfectly, though."
"So what was your plan?" Harry reached for the water bucket and took a greedy drink. "You couldn't very well administer the antidote to yourself."
"Lucius suggested I bribe a guard and even gave me Galleons to do so."
"That would've been your certain death," Harry said. Despite everything Snape had told him, Lucius was still an enigma to him. "Why all the fuss? Couldn't he simply have killed you?"
"Lucius enjoys his games. Maybe a bit too much," Snape said, a grim smile on his lips. "Besides, he owes me a wizard's debt. I saved Draco's life that night on the tower. I suppose that's also the reason why he spared your life. Didn't you save the little shit, too?"
Harry nodded miserably. Having allowed Draco to hide in the Room of Requirement during the final battle was something he now bitterly regretted. As if sensing his foul mood, the fairy let out a formidable fart. A horrible stench filled the cell, and the light went out. Harry fled into the tunnel. From the other side, he could hear the creaking sounds of a key being inserted into a lock. Fuck, he thought, fuckfuckfuck.
He scrambled through the tunnel, dove into his cell and barely managed to push his empty bowl and the water bucket within the grasp of the guards before they closed the hatch again. "Changed your mind, Minister?" one of them taunted. "And here I thought you were on hunger strike again." The guards laughed, but Harry was already back in the tunnel, carrying Snape's bowl.
After the guards delivered Snape's meal, Harry took a huge cabbage leaf from his soup and gave it to the fairy. "Thanks for the alert," he said. The fairy grabbed it with tiny fingers, flickerfarting excitedly. When the light was steady again, Harry eyed the food. The fish was more rotten than ever, and the water bucket only half full. "Can you tell me about your plan now, please?" he said, incapable of keeping anger and despair at bay. "I fucking need a distraction, and hope."
*
Snape distracted Harry with his body and gave him hope in his arms. They were lying under the blanket in Harry's cell, their bodies still joined, when Snape finally spoke. "My original plan was to dig a hole to the outside, steal a gondola and row close to the wards. Then I was planning to drink the poison and antidote together and, hopefully, drift through the wards as a dead man, to be resurrected again in freedom."
"Do you think it would've worked?" Harry asked, licking a droplet of sweat from Snape's shoulder.
"I can't say. The basic flaw in the plan was that it relied on the simultaneous ingestion of the potions. I have no idea what would've happened."
"We can still do it then," Harry said. "We'll dig the tunnel, steal the gondola, you'll drink the poison and I'll row you to the wards and give you the antidote. Bye bye Azkaban." Harry was so excited that his cock slipped free.
"It would take us approximately one year to dig that hole," Snape said.
"That's all right," Harry said. "In comparison with eternity, it's a very short time."
"To climb the tower again would take you hours," Snape said. "There's no doubt the guards would see you. They're lax in their duty, true, but they still make their rounds."
"What will it matter? You'll be free and, as soon as you inform the Weasleys and the press, I'll be free, too." Harry's cock rubbed against Snape's crack, taking a renewed interest.
"There would be an investigation. The guards would search your cell, find the tunnel to my cell and discover my disappearance. They'd promptly alert the Ministry, and the Aurors would find my body before the antidote would've even had time to work." Snape paused for a moment, pushing his arse against Harry's half-hard cock. "Enough of all these woulds," he said and turned to face Harry. "I have a much better plan."
Snape's eyes glittered, and he had that visionary look again. "When a prisoner dies, the guards prepare him for his last journey in his cell. Then they leave him alone to get the gondola ready. It takes them some time to return. Enough time to administer the antidote." Snape took Harry's hand and squeezed it. His hard prick poked Harry's leg insistently. "Do you understand, Potter?"
"How do you know about the guards?" Harry asked breathlessly.
"When I first came here, the Dementors were still around." Harry felt Snape tremble in his arms. He pressed closer to him. "The guards suffered as much as the prisoners from constant melancholy and hopelessness. They were barely able to do their job. When they heard I was a Potions Master, they ordered me to embalm the corpses."
"Embalm?"
"There's not much to it. A cheap cleansing potion and bandages, that's all. Don't worry, your skin won't come off." He kissed the inside of Harry's elbow. "Your beautiful, soft skin."
"My skin?"
Snape's lips were hot and determined. Harry shivered as they reached a nipple, and it wasn't from the cold.
"Of course your skin, Potter. Don't play the fool," Snape said between licks and bites. "Your chances to get me out of here are infinitely higher than my hopes of freeing you. I don't think that anyone would believe me, not even the Weasleys. I am, after all ..." His teeth sank into Harry's nipple. "... Dumbledore's murderer."
Harry writhed under Snape's rough caress. "You aren't Dumbledore's murderer," he said, turning them both around so that he was on top. "You aren't."
"Then free me, so I can prove it," Snape ordered.
Harry wrapped his hand around Snape's prick, and Snape reciprocated. They were both panting now. "I won't be able to swim," Harry said. "The bandages will constrain me. I'll drown." He moaned helplessly as Snape brought both their hands together and their cocks slid against each other.
"I'll put the knife into your hands," Snape said. "It's magic. It'll cut through the bandages like butter." Moving up on the bed, Snape raised his legs over Harry's shoulders. Harry obeyed the unspoken command. Snape's hole was still stretched, and he slid inside effortlessly. "Will you do it?" Snape asked. "Will you save me, Harry Potter?"
"Yes," Harry said, starting to thrust. "Yes, I will."
"Then fuck me, Potter. Fuck me as if it were the last time, and then ..." Snape took Harry's head in his hands and looked deep into his eyes. "... promise it won't be."
Harry could feel the connection. He could see magic in Snape's eyes, and he knew it was waiting for him, right outside the walls and the wards. Soon, he'd be free. "The next time we meet," he said, "we'll make love." Then he sealed his promise with a kiss.
*
Exactly a fortnight after Potter ingested the poison, the guards opened his cell to check on the prisoner. In those two weeks, Severus had barely slept. He'd crouched in the tunnel with the outermost layer of stones back in place, watching the prone form on the bed through a tiny gap. He'd left his observation post only to eat, to relieve himself and to add a new scratch to his calendar, day after day after day. The long and painful period of waiting had finally come to an end.
Severus was kneeling in front of the bunk bed. The corpse, wrapped from head to toe in white bandages, seemed alien to him. It wasn't human anymore, no longer Harry Potter, the man Severus had known, but a soulless puppet, a thing for him to manipulate. Severus looked at the dagger in his hand and at the wooden box that held the secret of death and resurrection. With the tip of the dagger, he followed the coils of a snake filling empty eye sockets with new life.
Snakes coiled through empty eye sockets in endless figure eights, promising eternity. Severus looked up from the box he knew so well and met the eyes of his visitor. "I thank you for another thoughtful gift, Lucius," he said. "It's flattering to know that you still think of me, after all that time."
"How could I ever forget you, my friend. My memories of you are fond ..." Lucius circled Severus's crotch with the handle of his cane. "... very fond indeed. It's a pity your hygiene these days is even worse. I'd have loved to refresh our acquaintance." The snake head slipped between Severus's legs, lifting his robes and pushing them insistently against his hole. Severus clenched his teeth. For ages, no one had touched him there, and the rough fabric rubbing across his skin, entering him just a little bit, caused the most incredible sensations.
"Tempter," Severus said, careful to lace his voice with sufficient sarcasm; Lucius could be very dense. Lucius withdrew his cane, the trace of a pout on his cruel lips, and Severus turned away to set the box on the straw. His eye fell on the calendar lines: 1,730 days of Azkaban. Lucius was indeed a tempter, but Severus wouldn't allow himself to fall for him again. "I value my life, wretched as it is, too much to risk it in one of your little games," he said.
"Severus, Severus," Lucius said, his eyes cold as steel, "you disappoint me." He took a pouch out of his robes and threw it at Severus's feet. "Thirty Galleons should be more than enough to secure the loyalty of one of the guards." When Severus didn't deem this worthy of an answer, Lucius stepped closer. "I'll tell you a secret," he whispered into Severus's ear, careful to avoid skin contact. "Your precious Harry Potter is in trouble, in deep deep trouble."
Severus raised an eyebrow to show how little he cared. And it was true, he realised. If the imbecile couldn't take care of himself after surviving the war with Severus's help, he wasn't worth another thought. Severus had done everything possible to save him and was currently suffering the consequences. Potter be damned!
White robes billowed as Lucius turned in the doorway. "Should something happen to Potter, you'll be a free man, you have my word," he said with an angelic smile. "Who knows how long it'll take him to kick the bucket. In the meantime, why don't you take a chance?" He pointed his cane at the box and the pouch of Galleons. "Or do you really want to sit back and wait for Potter to die?"
Severus worked with precision. Unwrapping Potter's chest first, he placed the dagger between his clasped hands. He didn't take the time to marvel at the beauty of fingers with bitten nails, fingers that had touched him in so many ways. He couldn't afford to make a mistake. He pulled the bandages closed, tight and secure.
Potter's face was peaceful. Dark shadows adorned his eyes, and he didn't look as if he were sleeping. A sleeping Potter was a nuisance, drooling and breathing with his mouth open. Potter's mouth was closed now. Severus didn't follow the lips with his finger, didn't remember their taste. He had a job to do, he reminded himself, and he mustn't linger. The box opened with a soft and reassuring click. The small vial warmed in his hand. Severus opened Potter's mouth, prying the jaws apart with brutal force. His hand shook as he unstoppered the vial. One drop of the antidote was sufficient; a second would do no harm. Potter's mouth snapped shut like that of an automaton.
Severus pressed a kiss to his lips. "You'll live," he said. "Do you hear me, Harry? You'll live." He didn't have time to spare. He rearranged the bandages around Potter's head, tight and secure.
Severus had scarcely returned to the tunnel and put the stones back in place when he heard the creaking sounds of a key being inserted into a lock.
*
Azkaban was a black hole in the North Sea. Those forced to enter the prison wards were well advised to abandon all hope. A merciless sky of molten silver chained them to the small island and a few square feet of water surrounding it. No living soul ever escaped.
A dark tower reached for the sky, pleading with fate. At the topmost window, Severus Snape clung to the bars. He watched the sea below, where a bandaged figure on a bier floated away and through the wards. It didn't cause so much as a ripple. When the last shred of white had disappeared, he closed his eyes.