unbroken_halo (![]() ![]() @ 2005-05-24 22:28:00 |
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Original poster: snapesdarkling
Author: Darkling
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: General, pre-slash. Slash will eventuate in the course of the story once Harry is 18. [This story
is therefore safe for Australian readers]
Age of youngest character: Harry [17]
Setting: Last term at Hogwarts. Seventh year.
Posted: pornicators and
snapesdarkling
"Harry! Come on. You'll miss breakfast." For the fourth time, Ron Weasley shouted across to the figure still huddled in bed. This time, the huddled figure answered, "Yeah, OK Ron. I'll be up in a minute. You go. I'll be there."
Ron puzzled at his friend's distant monotone, considering for the third time since they boarded the train in London yesterday, that this was not the Harry Potter he knew. Something was wrong. He moved quietly to stand next to Harry's bed, suddenly tongue-tied and awkward. "You know if there's anything you want to talk about..." He left the sentence unfinished. Harry already knew. God knows they'd shared enough secrets and bizarre experiences over the years and Ron had even withstood Harry's shy admission that he was gay. They loved each other like brothers, which was how he knew that something important was happening to Harry, something that, this time, Harry was not sharing with him.
It was not like Harry to shut him out, to be so withdrawn and lethargic. Well, he had been like this at other times of course, but this time, he was not sharing the reason why. Yesterday, when Ron had remarked how thin he looked, Harry had merely stared out of the train window without responding and had remained like that for the rest of the journey to Hogwarts. And what about last night? Ron had merely touched Harry's sleeve to draw his attention to the fact that Snape was staring at him, and Harry had just about jumped out of his skin. He returned to the present.
"Well, if you're sure ... I'll save you some breakfast then. See you soon, OK?"
No answer from the bed. Frowning, Ron reluctantly left the dorm.
Harry was alone. He heard the door close, then its fading echo, then silence. He exhaled in relief. At last, blessed peace and solitude, away from well meant questions and puzzled looks. Hermione had looked at him with her 'I'm on the case', expression, which meant she would be trying to get to the bottom of Harry's malaise. He knew Ron was upset and felt bad about that but how could he tell them what had happened? He had already messed things up with- No, probably best not to think about that right now.
He allowed his attention to drift back to the black velvet box and small brown jar of ointment on his side table. For some time now, he had been staring at them. He was very familiar with small brown jars. He used them all the time in potions class; Christ knows, he'd unpacked and stored enough of them during his numerous detentions with Snape. He reached out and grasped the jar. It vibrated slightly in his hand, conveying the signature of the wizard who had made the salve: Professor Severus Snape. Opening it he saw there had been just enough used to apply to, say, two badly chaffed, wrists. He examined his. They were much improved, the broken skin healing, the redness diminished.
God! Why did he do that?
Harry bit his bottom lip, simultaneously mortified at Snape's ministrations and grateful that he had not called upon Madam Pomfrey to tend to his injuries. She would have plagued him with questions and fussed around, all with the best possible intentions of course. Hardly what he needed, though.
He recalled how Snape had taken care of him, had persisted and made sure he was fed. He had been his usual, offhand, obnoxious self, of course, but despite that, had gone to some trouble to help Harry. Where he had gone wrong was insisting on knowing what had happened; the one person Harry did not want to know anything about that. The boy closed his eyes, trying to suppress the memory of his angry outburst, his accusations. Two days ago, he was blissfully daydreaming of love and Snape under a rosebush in Little Whinging and now...
Now, it was all over before it had even begun.
He really shouldn't have pushed me. Shouldn't have kept asking questions. I just needed some time. Why, why didn't he just leave me alone?
Fuck! How can I face him now?
Harry's stomach churned. Hunger, anxiety and grief knotted his insides into a tight, gnawing ball, but he knew he could not go to the great hall, could not bear those eyes on him again. Not yet. He had to think, had to be alone.
He placed the jar back on the table, knocking the black box off the edge in the process. Catching it mid-air, Harry again felt magic tingle in his fingertips; Snape's signature. He heard the medallion rattle against the lid and opened the box. The gold chain spilled out over his hand and as the medallion caught the rays of the morning sun it glinted, warmly. The vibration was deeper, more powerful now he held the chain. Snape had worn this for a very long time. Why had Harry not felt this last night when he opened the box? The salve must have sensitised me to his signature . He had suspected the gift was from Dumbledore but had no real idea who had left it. Now he was in no doubt.
He gave me something of his, something personal.
The idea warmed him and he allowed himself to fantasise what the gift might mean. Did it mean that Snape thought about him in that way? He wondered how they would be with each other after this - and then remembered the scene from the previous night.
He looked down at the chain, gold, sleek and beautiful, warming in his hand. Reluctant to put it away, he tried to reinstate the warm glow he had felt just a moment before, but it was no use. The recollection of his behaviour had blown through him like an icy wind. Suddenly, all his hopes seemed to crumble inside him and now, as he held Snape's gift, he did not know what to feel; could not really feel anything. It seemed he was no longer part of the world around him. He was numb. Sighing, he put the chain back in its box and slipped it into his pocket.
Well , he thought morosely, I bet he'd take it back now if given the chance.
After pulling on Muggle jeans, sweater and boots, he made his way out of the dorm and to the kitchen via a seldom used back corridor. He darted in to the warm room and within seconds had collected bread, cheese and fruit and a large bottle of pumpkin juice, all of which he shrank and stowed in his pockets.
Stealing food yet again, eh Potter?
Shrugging off the unpleasant memory accompanying that thought, Harry silently made his way out the kitchen door and into the rear courtyard. Keeping low and close to the walls, he made his way around the castle until he could safely break cover and head for the lake. He really had no idea where he was going, he just knew he could not go into that hall and endure his gaze, could not sit in his class. Could not face Hermione and Ron and their concerned, questioning looks. He walked in silence.
The lake was beautiful this morning. No breeze stirred its mirror-like surface in which the castle and sky were perfectly reflected. Harry walked along the lake path until he reached his favourite spot. From here he could see the whole length of the lake and the castle without being seen. He loved this view. Settling on 'his' flat rock he stared across the expanse of water, and tried to realign himself with the world as he had known it only a few days ago but nothing seemed the same. Even the pleasure he usually felt at being on his own in this glorious place seemed distant, as if he were watching the scene on television.
The still water waited, silent, dark and cold. Harry fleetingly considered just walking out into it. Walking without stopping until he was swallowed up. Until there were no more Dursley's or Malfoys or Snapes.
Snape.
Fuck, what was that expression on his face last night? Shocked? Stunned?
Or was it disgusted? Yes, that was more likely, Harry thought . He's disgusted at the thought of me 'enjoying' myself with Vernon Dursley. I have probably lived up to his expectations. He'll be justified now to persecute me even more. Last night he was only doing his duty to a student. Not caring about me. I was just something he had to attend to. And to think I actually thought I might have had a chance. That he might not hate me.
Despondent, he picked up a smooth stone and lobbed it into the lake. The water received the stone with a hollow 'plosh' and displayed concentric rings of displeasure at the disturbance. Harry watched the satin ripples flow out until they flattened into nothingness, fading back into the lake as quietly as you please. It was strangely calming seeing the water break and splash in disarray, sending out those ripples, watching the surface become smooth and still once more. It was as if the lake would absorb any amount of agitation and still return to its natural state as if nothing had happened. He threw stone after stone until at last, prompted by his growling stomach, he restored the food he had brought and ate.
Well fed, he lay in the sun and tried to calm his inner turmoil. He soon felt safe for the first time in weeks. Closing his eyes, he emptied his mind of everything and allowed his mind to follow the song of the birds in the nearby trees.
***
It occurred to him that he must have dropped off to sleep and that it was now quite late because the sun seemed to have set behind the hill. The sunlight no longer glowed hotly through his eyelids. Either that, or a cloud had passed in front of the sun.
He wasn't far wrong. It was a cloud of the darkest kind. Severus Snape stood over him blocking the light and when Harry opened his eyes, he was greeted with a glare that could sour milk.
"P-Professor! What are you doing here?" Harry blurted.
"Is that not the exact question I should be asking YOU?" snarled Snape inclining himself in Harrys direction.
Harry opened his mouth as if to speak.
"You will not be required to say ANYTHING Mr Potter, so just shut your mouth."
Harry shut his mouth.
"Perhaps," Snape hissed and started to pace - a picture of wrath incarnate, "Mr Potter, you are not aware that holidays ended yesterday. Furthermore, it is quite apparent that you do not care that the whole school is in uproar over the fact that you are missing." He took a breath and turned to pace in the other direction.
"Similarly, it clearly means little to you that classes have been disrupted; that students and staff are almost at the point of dragging the lake for your drowned body. That the headmaster is on the verge of contacting the Ministry." Harry had not seen him quite this angry before. It was spectacular.
Snape took a step towards Harry, causing the boy to scuttle back on his rock. Snape continued forward, bending low over Harry so that his face seemed only inches away.
"Apparently, Mr Potter, you think you can just disappear when you feel like it, take classes when you feel like it and inconvenience any number of other people without a single thought. You seem to have no regard for those misguided fools who care for you enough to worry about where you are or what might be happening to you."
"Professor, I can -"
"SILENCE! You impudent wretch!" Snape was not going to be interrupted. He drew a breath before continuing. "In short, Mr Potter, you are a selfish, thoughtless, recalcitrant BRAT who deserves to be expelled-" he stopped short and straightened up. Harry's face had paled at the mention of expulsion, and his look of genuine distress almost, almost made Snape wish he had not threatened it but he was livid.
He was angry for several reasons, the main one being that he realised with now familiar discomfort, that he was one of the ‘misguided fools' who cared for and worried about the boy. He turned sharply away from Harry and moved several steps towards the lake.
"Has it slipped your tiny brain that we are at war, Mr Potter? Do you want to be captured and taken to the Dark Lord?" he snarled.
"No, of course n -"
"Shut UP, damn you!" shouted Snape who paused before continuing, in a calm, cold voice, "Because I can arrange that for you quite easily. You need not go to all this extravagant trouble to put yourself in peril, I can assure you."
Harry swallowed, not quite sure whether the master was bluffing or not. He decided that in this mood he was not bluffing, and that it would be better to keep quiet.
Snape continued his agitation, pacing to and fro with an energy Harry had never seen in him before. It reminded him strangely of Petunia. She had behaved like this one night when Dudley had been very late coming home after visiting friends. She paced and tearfully wrung her hands in distress and imagined that all sorts of disasters had befallen her cherished boy. When Dudley finally arrived none the worse for having stuffed himself on birthday cake, she flew into such a rage that Harry had willingly scurried away to the cupboard just in case he caught some of the fallout.
Was that what was happening right now? He took another look at Snape and decided no. Snape was just being royally pissed off Snape. Nothing more. And he was almost right.
On realising that Harry was missing, Snape had, in the light of the events of the previous night, entertained real fears that Harry may have harmed himself, or been taken... He was deeply relieved to see him hale if not hearty but he would be damned if he would reveal that to the witless brat. Severus did not appreciate being disrupted in this way. He hated feeling out of control of himself and that was exactly what he had felt during the last two days as he embarked on a journey into unwelcome and unfamiliar territory: his changed feelings for the young man now sitting miserably in front of him, to be precise. One minute he felt like he wanted to hold and protect the boy and the next minute he wanted to shake the living shit out of him. So he did the obvious thing, he vented his anger on the object of his concern and affection. He glared at Harry who sat, cowed and speechless, pathetic.
How dare you do this to me!
"Professor, I - I didn't mean any harm," Harry ventured. He knew the master was right of course. He should have asked permission, but there was no way he would have been allowed this respite from, from everything if he had simply asked for it. He would have had to explain why and then there would have been fuss, bother and more questions. All he had wanted was a couple of hours to sort himself out. He sighed deeply. Snape remained rigidly upright, silent and motionless, apparently intent on memorising the lake scene in front of him.
"I just needed to get away, to be by myself," Harry offered, hoping against hope that this would ameliorate the tension. "You think I am totally pathetic and right now I feel it. I don't feel like myself anymore. I just needed some time to feel like me again," Harry blurted finally. That had come out all wrong as well. He didn't mean to sound like a whimpering victim but the silence and rigid posture of Severus Snape as he stood facing the lake, unnerved him. Snape, in general, unnerved him.
"Actions and consequences, Mr Potter," Snape replied evenly. "You do not seem to understand the connection between the two. That is precisely how you land repeatedly in both hot water and the detention rooms of your teachers."
Harry was suddenly infuriated. "And I suppose that's what landed me in the bloody cupboard again, is it? Got me treated like a fucking prisoner of war, abused, starved and mistreated daily but without any secret information to divulge to end the torture! Is that your answer? I should have considered the consequences of trying to eat to stay alive before I tried to -? Christ! Why am I bothering trying to explain anything to you? How could you possibly understand?" Harry was fuming. He stood and started pacing angrily up and down his flat rock.
"No matter what your current state of mind, you will address me by my proper title, Mr Potter," Snape snapped, then took a calming breath. "I was merely referring to your behaviour today, which, you must admit, has been abominable. The events that you described to me last night are - unfortunate, and concerning that, I have nothing but contempt for anyone who would treat a child in such a manner." Snape's voice had softened from rage to his usual classroom tone. "The fact still remains that you have broken several principal school rules and in addition-" he paused as if considering whether to continue. " -with reference to the previous matter, you have not employed the most effective method available to deal with the aftermath of those circumstances."
"I haven't?"
"No."
Harry stopped pacing and rounded on Snape, shouting at his back.
"Oh yeah, and what would you know about it then, about the ‘aftermath of those circumstances' as you so delicately describe them? How the hell would you, from your high and bloody mighty pure-blood wizarding family, have any idea at all how I should be ‘dealing with it'? At least you had a family. To you and to my pitiful excuse for relatives, I'm just an annoying brat who has broken the rules again - just someone to kick around for fun. How would you, Professor Severus Snape, know what that feels like?" Harry stopped his tirade and breathing heavily, shifted his gaze from the ground to the stony back of the potions master.
Snape said nothing for such a long time, Harry wondered if he had heard the question; but of course he had. He was simply ignoring him.
"Well, fuck you! Fuck all of you!"
Fuming, Harry jumped down from the rock. His hand brushed the box he carried in his pocket and on impulse as he drew level with Snape, he threw it onto the ground before storming off to the castle. By the time he reached the front steps he already regretted his behaviour. He had shouted the rage out and had walked until he felt the effects of the adrenaline rush lessen. Now all that remained was a dull exhaustion and a heavy pain in his chest that hadn't been there before.
He strode purposefully down the corridor to Dumbledore's office and incredulous students moved to form groups in which whisper loudly as he passed. Ignoring them, he turned the corner just before the headmaster's office and bumped straight into Ron and Hermione.
"Harry! God! You look terrible! Are you OK? Everyone's been mental looking for you. Have you been down to the lake? I had to tell Snape where your spot was or I think he would have hexed me into next year. Did he find you? What happened?" The words tumbled out of Ron as if he had been turned upside down and shaken. Harry looked at his two loyal friends and managed a smile. "I'm fine, really. Thank you. I have to see Dumbledore now but I'll find you after that, OK?"
"Do you want us to come with you, Harry?" asked Hermione anxiously. "You know, moral support and all that." Harry felt a lump form in his throat. He had acted like a prat, had completely ignored them, but still Ron and Hermione were willing to stick by him.
"No, thanks, Hermione. This is something I need to do on my own. It would be great if you would both wait for me, though."
"No problem. We'll be right here," said Ron.
****
Snape remarked the boy's defiant gait as he watched him approach the castle. The exchange had gone very badly, very badly indeed. The black velvet box at his feet mute testimony to his botched attempt at jolting some sense into Harry. No, that's not quite right - the box was an attempt to show affection. That was what he had botched. He was unequalled at jolting sense into teenaged boys.
He sat on Harry's flat rock and wondered at the sensation of heaviness in his chest. Alone by the lakeside, he went through all the mistakes he had just made. Ordinarily, he would have considered his approach to have been correct and thought nothing more of it. He knew that what he had done was right. Why should the fact that he had a stupid infatuation with the boy make any difference to how Potter was disciplined here at Hogwarts?
Why did he feel gutted then?
He sat on the rock for a long time, staring at the small box in the dirt as if it was a bomb he was considering how best to disarm. The shadows stretched long over the lake when he finally bent down and picked it up, brushing the dirt and leaves away before putting it into his robe pocket. By the time he reached the castle, the sun was gone and the light from the great hall shone warmly into the night.
****
"Tea, Severus?"
"No, thank you headmaster, I-"
"One lump or two? I can never remember."
"I don't take sugar, headmaster, and I really don't wa-"
"No sugar? When did that start?"
"Headmaster! I have never taken sugar and I-"
"Really? I could have sworn ... oh well. There you are."
Dumbledore leaned forward and extended a cup of steaming tea towards Snape who took it, exasperated that he had fallen prey to the old man's ritual manipulations yet again. Dumbledore sat back in his chair looking pleased and over the top of his spectacles asked, "Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"
Snape looked up as if the headmaster had just announced he was going to dance naked on the head table at Halloween. "Headmaster, as I recall, it was you who wished to speak with me."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Well, I must be getting quite scatty in my old age." At this, Snape pursed his lips and looked at the headmaster indicating by his dour expression that he saw right through this ploy. "I really was under the impression that it was you who had something to say to me, Severus."
Blue eyes met black, flow and resistance.
"But no matter." He continued, seeing he was getting nowhere. "I do have something I want to talk to you about as it so happens."
"Wonder of wonders," sneered Snape.
"Now, now Severus. You really must be more tolerant of the old and feeble you know."
Snape replied, "When you are old and feeble headmaster, I will be Minister of Magic. You are a meddling, sharp eyed, big eared, manipulative, calculating old coot and well you know it."
"I don't think you've had a very good day, have you, Severus?"
"As it happens, no, headmaster. So if you will be so good as to get on with whatever it is that is so important, I would be grateful to return to my room and drink myself to sleep."
"Whisky won't make him go away, Severus."
The remark caught Snape off guard. For a moment, the headmaster fancied he saw pain flit across the potion master's features. Snape regained his equilibrium almost instantly though, his face settling back into its usual dispassionate expression.
"I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about, headmaster," said Snape shifting easily into bland anti-interrogation mode. Dumbledore watched him closely for what seemed to Snape to be hours. He became aware of the clock ticking. He did not meet the headmaster's eyes.
"Well, what would you say if I said that I think you do?" Dumbledore said quietly.
"I would say stop playing games with me and tell me what it is you wish to say so that I can get out of here."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, arranging his beard neatly over his deep blue robes.
"Sometimes you can be most difficult, Severus."
"Almost all the time you are impossible, headmaster. Now, if you have finished, I will wish you good evening and take my leave." Snape put down his teacup and began to rise from his chair.
"No, Severus. I have not finished. Please, sit down." It was not a request. Severus glared but sat as instructed.
"Today has been trying for all of us," began Dumbledore. "For some more than others." He looked meaningfully at Snape who returned his gaze without blinking. " I have had a lengthy talk with Harry and am now fully aware of the events leading up to his actions today. I am shocked at what has happened to him and intend to take steps to ensure it does not happen again."
Snape spoke his thought out loud. "As you did for me, headmaster?"
Dumbledore sighed and bowed his head. "Severus, please. I cannot undo the past and if it means anything to you, I would not take the same path now if it were presented to me. We all of us make mistakes you know." He paused, gazing into the distance of the past for a moment before shifting his eyes to the potions master.
"This does not mean we have to watch another innocent suffer without offering whatever assistance we can, does it, Severus? Are our own injuries healed by seeing another injured?"
"Of course not, but the boy does not want to be helped. He is quite out of control and needs discipline, not everyone fawning over him. I suppose you have let him off with no punishment?"
"I told him that I would need time to consider his punishment, which is why I wanted to talk to you, Severus."
The clock ticked while Snape took in this last comment. Surely the old coot wasn't thinking of...
"No!" he stated, firmly.
"No what, my dear boy?" asked Dumbledore.
"No, I bloody well will not."
Dumbledore shifted forward in his seat and fixed Snape with his eyes. "We have one very troubled young man on our hands, Severus. I agree that he needs a firm hand. I also see that he has a very high regard for you. In fact…"
Severus dreaded what may come out of the headmaster's mouth next. What had the little prat been saying in here?
"… he seems most regretful and apologetic about some ‘words' he said you and he exchanged down at the lake today. He said he wished he hadn't said what he did. I trust you understand what I am alluding to. Apparently, you were the one to find him." Dumbledore paused and picked at an imaginary bit of lint on his robe. "Quite a stroke of luck that, eh Severus, you being all the way over on the other side of the lake like that?"
"Luck had nothing to do with it. Ron Weasley told me where Potter likes to spend time when he wants to be alone. I simply went straight there."
"Yes, you did, didn't you?"
Snape looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Oh gods and now Dumbledore was using his soft cajoling voice.
"Severus, he needs your help. Not mine. Not Minerva's. Yours." He paused. "I trust you, you know."
Snape's head snapped up. "Why do you say that?" he demanded.
"Because I thought you might like to know, my dear boy, nothing more. And possibly, because you seem to have very little self trust right now."
Snape looked into the eyes of his master and the silent eloquence of his gaze told Dumbledore more than words ever could.
"Just be there for him, Severus," he said. "Just be you."
Snape sighed and nodded slightly, resigned to the fact that he had been out manoeuvred again. He rose from his chair and nodding his farewell, left Dumbledore's office.
Dumbledore smiled. "Goodnight Severus."
****
Dinner was an awkward affair, what with the Slytherins looking and sniggering at him and the uneasy glances from the Gryffindor cohort. Snape's place at the head table remained unoccupied, a fact that was not in itself remarkable. Snape often worked through mealtimes taking his nourishment in his rooms or office. Tonight however, the empty place spoke to Harry of anger and avoidance and resonated with his feeling of futility. He ate without once meeting anyone's eyes and as soon as he was finished, stood up to leave instead of lingering to chat as he normally did.
"I'll see you in the common room then," he said to Ron and Hermione who had not quite finished.
"OK Harry, won't be long," Ron replied, relieved that his friend was talking to him again.
As he moved to the exit, Harry spied Dumbledore approaching him. He stopped and waited for the headmaster.
"Ah, Harry. Now, further to our discussion this afternoon, I have arranged for Professor Snape to deal with any matters of detention or punishment. So, will you report to his rooms tonight at eight o'clock?"
Snape. Detention. Nothing could be worse.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir, couldn't you- I mean wouldn't it be better if you-" Harry stammered, desperate to voice his protest at this.
"Harry?" enquired Dumbledore gently, feigning ignorance.
"Please, sir. Don't make me go to Professor Snape. Can't I do detention with Filch instead?" pleaded Harry.
Dumbledore regarded Harry for several minutes during which time the young man felt his hopes rising like the sun.
Volunteering to do detention with Filch? If there was anything that proves the intensity of feeling between Severus and the boy, surely this is it. Detention with Filch indeed! It's time these two got back on an even keel.
"No. No, I think not," Dumbledore replied at last, appearing to make his mind up after considering the options. Which he hadn't. The sun set on Harry. "I think this is much the better solution. Yes, much better. Let me know how you get on, will you Harry?" The headmaster smiled and indicated that Harry should run along, and then moved across to speak with Remus Lupin. Stunned, Harry watched him go then, dread weighing heavily in every step, he made his way slowly to the dungeons.
Severus sat in an irate, rumpled heap, robe discarded, shirt untucked and unbuttoned, glass of whisky in hand. The knock at the door did not improve his temper.
"Whatever it is, I'll deal with it tomorrow!" he shouted at the door then took another swig from the tumbler. The knock came again.
"I SAID, come back tomorrow!"
Incredibly, another knock. Obviously, someone is feeling suicidally depressed , he thought, as he rose from the chair and strode angrily to the door. He pulled it open and glared out - straight into the green eyes of the one person he least wanted to see right then.
"Potter! I should have known it would be you. If I were you I would go away!" With that, he slammed the door and made for his chair. He had not taken two steps before the knock sounded again. Incredulous, he whirled around and in one insane lunge, opened the door and bellowed, "WHAT in the name of Zeus do you WANT?"
"P-Professor Dumbledore said I should report to you for detention at eight o'clock, sir," Harry said, almost flinching at the force of Snapes words. "Had you forgotten?"
Snape was speechless. Of all the things Albus had done, surely this ranked amongst the most devious, underhanded, calculated and despicable. Damn the man to hell. Suddenly aware that he was staring at Harry in disbelief, he quickly straightened up. As he did so, he noticed that Harry was also staring at his exposed torso.
During the exertions with the door, the unbuttoned shirt had slid down off his shoulders and now hung limply across his forearms and back, thus exposing his entire chest and abdomen. Harry noticed that the button to Snape's trousers was unfastened that he could see the outline of the man's slim hips, and that a trail of dark hair extended from his navel straight down... He gulped and raised his eyes, praying that the shadows in the corridor would hide the growing bulge in his trousers.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
Snape shrugged the shirt back on, buttoning it loosely.
"I'm sorry to have disturbed you, sir," Harry said evenly, trying to control his voice.
Oh, I was disturbed long before you got here, Potter.
"Well," Snape began curtly, "as I have absolutely no wish to spend my evenings in your company, I suggest you transfer your detentions to Mr Filch. At once. Now. Go."
Harry did not go. "I'm sorry sir, Professor Dumbledore said that was not a possibility. I am to report to him later. On my progress."
Report. Progress. Bloody Dumbledore!
Then he felt an inexplicable pain in his belly.
He's already asked to transfer.
He doesn't want to see me, either.
Harry stood, bravely withstanding the glare that would set light to dry parchment until Severus snapped, "You had better come in then, hadn't you. I would hate to disobey the headmaster." He turned and strode off, leaving Harry to enter the room and close the door after him.
When he turned to face into the room, Snape was leaning against the mantelpiece, one elbow resting on the stone, the other rubbing at the bridge of his nose. When he looked up, Harry was still standing by the door. He looked exhausted.
"Well, don't just stand there, sit down," Severus said gruffly. Harry moved to the nearest chair and sat.
"Mr Potter, I have no idea what the headmaster expects me to do, so I will do what I think is appropriate to the situation. You will present to me tomorrow morning, Twelve inches of parchment reflecting on your actions today. You will also start a personal journal in which you will write a detailed entry of your thoughts and feelings for each day for one month. I will be reading the journal so don't think you can fudge the entries. Also, starting tomorrow, you will report to me after dinner every night at eight o'clock. You will bring your books and homework with you and you will study. In addition, I expect you, during this scheduled time, to repeat every potions exercise that is done in class and write me a report about the results you obtain. You will not play Quidditch until I give you permission to do so. Do I make myself clear?"
Harry sat, dumbfounded at the severity of the punishment. No Quidditch? No time with his friends in the evenings? A journal for pity's sake! Fuck!
"Potter?"
Harry replied glumly, "Yes sir, you are very clear. For how long should I report in the evenings, sir?"
"If I had my way, Potter I-" Snape stopped, realising that he did not have total control over his thoughts and those thoughts had entirely different ideas as to how to occupy evenings with Harry Potter. Several stiff drinks in quick succession had not helped either. "One month, " he blurted. "Now sod off and leave me alone."
"Yes, sir." Harry rose to leave, but in doing so twisted in such a way that his bruised back twinged making him gasp and cringe in sudden pain.
Severus looked up sharply and suddenly saw him for what he was: an exhausted, traumatised, confused young man. He stepped away from the mantelpiece.
"Come here."
"No. It's all right Professor. I'll go now."
"Come HERE."
Harry did as he was told.
"Lift up your shirt."
Please, no.
"Lift it UP, Mr Potter."
He did, slowly and shamefully. The bruises had come out even more since Severus had last seen them and Harry's back was now a ghastly rainbow of blues, blacks, pinks and yellows. Severus fetched his wand and reapplied the healing spell, noting that Harry sighed and visibly relaxed as he did so.
"All right, you can put it down now," he said, surprised at how gentle his voice had become. The youth tucked his shirt in and without looking at Severus murmured, "Thank you."
Snape did not reply. He noted the shame in Harry's face and posture and impulsively said, "You're wrong you know."
"Sir?"
"About me not knowing what you feel like." He reached down and pulled off his shirt, then turned around and presented his back to Harry.
"Some of these are courtesy of my beloved 'colleagues', others were won at the hands of my father. So you see Mr Potter," he turned as he donned his shirt. I do know a little of what it is like to be mistreated by those physically more powerful than oneself."
Harry stumbled to the chair and sat heavily. The man's back was scarred all over with what looked like whip marks. Words he had shouted in rage that afternoon came back to haunt Harry and he lowered his head. Severus broke the lengthy silence that ensued.
"It was not your fault."
"Wasn't it?" Harry snapped bitterly.
"Of course not."
Harry appeared to be struggling to say, or not say something, Severus could not tell which.
"I came, for Christ's sake!"
Severus moved to sit in the chair opposite Harry's. He waited, but the boy did not lift his head.
"That had more to do with your body, than with you, Mr Potter. I assure you, it was a natural response to stimulus – nothing more."
"I didn't want -"
"-I know." Severus regarded the top of Harry's head. "I know you didn't want it to happen. And now you feel dirty, untouchable, second-class. Am I right?"
Harry lifted his head. "Yes, how do you know?" Severus nearly gasped at the look in Harry's eyes. They were the eyes of someone who will never be able to lie convincingly. They reflected his very soul.
That's enough now, Severus.
He stood and made his way to the door, indicating that the meeting was at an end.
"That is another story entirely, Mr Potter, and one that may or may not be told." Depending on how much I've had to drink.
" However , for now it is enough for you to return to your dormitory and get some rest. I will see you at breakfast."
Harry stood and made for the door. Before stepping through, he looked back and said softly, "Thank you, Professor. I'm- I'm sorry. For the things I said today."
Severus froze with his hand on the doorknob. Accursed brat! Don't look at me like that. He cleared his throat and replied matter-of-factly, "I accept your apology Potter, but it will not get you out of your essay. I still expect it on my desk tomorrow morning."
Harry grinned ruefully, "Yes, sir." He turned to go but stopped as Severus called softly, "Potter, you dropped this." Harry held out his hand and froze as Severus placed in it a small, black velvet box.
"Oh!"
Stunned, he looked from it to Severus, and back again, and then slowly opened the lid. The medallion glowed softly in the torchlight, chain links glinting as he moved the box. Oh! Too much. After everything this was too much. His vision blurred as tears prickled at the back of his eyes, pooled and spilled down his cheeks.
He's giving it back. He hasn't deserted me.
Severus watched Harry battle with his emotions, realising that this was one of the times he wanted to crush the boy in his embrace and smother him with hot, wet kisses. Instead, he simply pretended he could not see the tears and waited a while before saying, "It looks very valuable. Take better care of it in future."
Unsuccessfully blinking back his tears, Harry looked up at Severus, softly said, "It is. Very, very valuable. Thank you, sir. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Mr Potter."
****
Harry lay between cool sheets. He absently toyed with the gold chain around his neck and listened to the fading sounds of the castle as it settled into the absolute stillness of the night.
Like ripples fading on a lake.