unbroken_halo (![]() ![]() @ 2005-05-28 19:02:00 |
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Original poster: snapesdarkling
Author: Darkling
Summary: Harry devises a game to get to know Severus a little better.
Rating: R
Warning: Mention of non-con, incest and deprivation of liberty.
Note: Yes,this is another ficlet that I have blown the dust off.
Unbetad
Comments: Oh please.
Age of youngest character: Harry [20ish or whatever makes you happy over the age of 18]
The light from the full moon silvered the bodies of the two men lying on the bed. The younger man shifted position slightly and started to speak.
“Ready?” The older man sighed wearily and nodded.
“What is your name?”
“Oh really, Harry-”
“Just answer the question.”
“Severus Snape. You dolt.”
They are playing Harry’s ‘getting to know you game’ again. The object of the game is to question each other and trade the answers for kisses. It goes like this: Harry asks Severus a question and Severus answers. If Harry thinks the answer is true, he kisses Severus; if not, Severus has to kiss him. The next time they play, the roles are reversed and Severus gets to question Harry. A lot of kissing gets done in either case, which suits Harry just fine. He loves kissing Severus more than just about anything else. The questions continue until the end of the game, which occurs when both partners are so aroused they abandon everything for torrid lovemaking.
Harry had dreamed up the idea when he realized just how little he knew of his lover’s past. He knew about some of his school days, that he was a Death Eater, Order member and spy and obviously that he was a potions expert but really, that was about it. Not a lot to base a relationship on and Harry knew he wanted a real relationship with this man. Abundantly clear was the fact that Severus was not going to volunteer any information he considered ‘unnecessary’. That amounted to nearly all personal information except for facts such as how he liked his tea and coffee. Using his newly emerged maturity, Harry reasoned that mind-blowing sex could only keep two people interested in each other for just so long. So he playfully suggested the game one day after their lovemaking and Severus, being newly in love,although he would never admit to it, and very relaxed, indulged him.
It had started off innocently enough, with questions about favourite colours, zodiac signs, food and other trivial topics. Each time they played however, Harry’s questions became more personal and Severus generally kissed Harry more times than Harry kissed Severus; and Severus was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Often he refused to play, only acquiescing when Harry promised not to venture into private matters. Of course Harry did and of course Severus became angry, which just made the sex, when it happened at the end, even better.
Today, as they lay mellow and quiet in each other’s arms, Harry started another round. The name question was just a confidence builder. Today, Harry had an agenda. He broke their first kiss, thrilled to hear a little moan of disappointment from Severus. He nuzzled into the man’s shoulder before springing the next question.“Have you only ever had sex with men?”
A pause. “Yes.” Severus received his kiss. “Mmm come here, you.”
“Not yet, you’re breaking the rules!” Harry laughed and playfully pushed Severus away.
“How many partners have you had?”
Severus’ grin was audible. “I’ve lost count.”
Harry laughed and touched his lips to Severus’. “So you’ve never, ever had sex with a woman?”
“I think even you can extrapolate that from the previous answer.”
“Not good enough. Kiss me.” Severus dutifully rose up on his elbow and planted a kiss on Harry’s cheek.
“Hey! That’s not a kiss!”
“Maybe so, but it’s all you are getting.”
“Alright, then,” Harry conceded, reluctantly, then paused. Was this next one a good idea? Hell, he planned to spend the rest of his life with this man. Some of these damn barriers had to come down. Then, as if he was merely asking whether Severus wanted lemon in his tea or milk said, “Why do you enjoy tying me up so often when we have sex?”
Severus stilled, a deadly sign. Harry held his breath.
“I don’t want to answer that, if you don’t mind.”
Well, that was predictable. Harry’s hand anticipated and prevented Severus’ head from turning away. “Nuh-uh – kiss me,” Harry demanded. He responded to Severus’ perfunctory peck and because there was no going back, said, “Well, I do mind. Now, answer the question.”
Severus lay back and closed his eyes, mentally berating himself for ever agreeing to this ridiculous game. He knew this question would daisy chain to the next and then the next until … no, he did not want to go to their inevitable destination. He also knew that Harry wanted precisely the opposite. The brat’s insistence on revelation and honesty between them bordered on the pathological as far as Severus was concerned. Every question he asked progressed further, inexorably closer to his core, his inner sanctum where no-one, no-one was allowed.
This was the deep, dark spawning ground of nightmares and irrational fears, of failures, shame, regret and pain. The mental walls he had painstakingly constructed to contain this collection of bitter memories had required constant vigilance and discipline to maintain and had provided structure to his chaotic life. The thought of anyone breaching them terrified him. Severus’ inner world had been impenetrable – until now. Until Harry… and now… and now he felt under siege, oscillating between desperately wanting to let Harry in to share his sacred space and barricading him out forever. He sighed, deeply.“Harry, I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Kiss me - on the lips.” That being done, Harry quietly persisted, “Why do you, though?”
“I thought you liked it.”
“Clever, but that’s not the real reason.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“I am asking the questions. Kiss me.”
Exasperated, Severus simultaneously threw his head back on the pillow and brought his fist down hard on the mattress. “Fuck, Harry! Stop! I don’t want to do this any more. Just leave it.” Shock stabbed through Harry’s gut. Trembling, he summoned his courage, and placing his hand on Severus’ clenched fist, leaned over and kissed him gently.
Snape drew back, startled and temporarily disarmed.“Why did you do that?”
“You told the truth.”
Severus looked down at the trembling hand atop his clenched fist.“You’re shaking.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t answer your question.”
“I know, but you are going to now.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“I’ll sleep on the couch until you do.”
Something inside Severus finally snapped. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! No more! I put up with so much …” he searched frantically for the word, “so much nonsense from you, Potter and I’ve had enough!” He turned and simultaneously throwing back both the bedcovers and Harry’s arm from where it rested on his shoulder, swung his legs over the bed and prepared to stand - but froze at the sound of Harry’s sad, calm voice.
“Remember to pack your toothbrush before you go.”
Severus turned, his eyes searching Harry’s, serious face, and at once he knew that this was no game. If he left that bed, he would not be expected to share it again. If he stayed, he would have to continue unearthing the past, revealing memories he had buried so deep that it hurt just to look for them. Cold panic gripped his gut, twisting the breath out of him. He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again when his brain refused to provide any coherent speech. So he sat, poised between staying and leaving, balanced on the fulcrum. Movement either way would unbalance his world but he could not stay where he was .He lowered his gaze, leaning slowly forward to cradle his head in his hands.
Silence screamed between them. The air seemed thick with anger, unspoken challenges, pleas, making it difficult to breathe. Severus hadn’t ever threatened to leave the bed before. Harry hadn’t issued an ultimatum before and guts clenched in anxiety, he lay quietly, his calm outward demeanour perfectly disguising his inner turmoil. His heart pounded hard in his chest, pulsed in his ears, and he desperately needed a drink of water to moisten his dry mouth.
I’ve pushed him too far. I’ve pushed too hard. I’m not so important to him that he will give in, he repeated over and over in his mind, the mantra an accompaniment to his vision of Severus standing, dressing, leaving. He fought the urge to avert this outcome. All he wanted to do was blurt an apology, say it didn’t matter, forget it. But it did matter. The answer to the question was secondary to Severus’ willingness to allow him into his world, to trust.
Severus eventually broke the tension. “You don’t mean that,” his curt statement thinly veiling the implicit question.
Harry replied so quietly, Severus had to strain to hear the words. “Yes, Severus I do. It’s important to me.” You are important to me. “We need to get past this,” he added softly.
“Emotional extortion doesn’t become you, Potter,” rasped Severus, then continued in a menacing voice, his hand making empty gestures in the air, “Why don't you simply state that you do not trust me and be done with it?”
“You know that’s not true. You know I trust you.” Harry said, adding,” It’s not about me trusting-” he broke off, conscious that his voice threatened to breakand stared through a blur of tears at his lover’s smooth, rigid back. He had only to lean forward just a little to stroke away the tension from those bunched muscles and taut neck. Instead, he fell back on the pillows and blinking to clear his vision, endured the silence.
Severus heard the little hitch in Harry’s voice. The sound of it tortured him, yet he did not shift his position, did not relax. He felt the insistent pull of the invisible bond between them, his arms aching with the need to hold Harry close, yet he did not move. Hours seemed to tick by in the silence and with the passing minutes, Severus weighed the emotional cost of his involvement with Harry against the simple joy of having him as part of his daily life. He compared a future alone, with only his shield of bitter memories, to a future spent with Harry, the darkness of his mind finally exposed to light and air and laughter; a future where he was free.He could not decide which future was the most frightening: a step forward into freedom, or a solitary step back into the shackles of his past; both involved loss and pain.
He tried to convince himself of the triviality of the issue but deep down, knew the question was only superficial and that in truth, Harry had applied the thin end of the wedge to his sense of security. He tried bargaining. What if he answered the question and then called a halt to the game? No, that was not an option. The unasked questions would simply hang between them like an invisible barrier, and Harry would never completely trust him. Did that matter? It only mattered if he wanted Harry around, but Severus had never willingly bestowed his trust, nor invited another’s. He knew that trust was a trap that could betray you to your death and in a flash realized that lack of trust could cost him, dearly, and that he had no future at all with Harry if that future did not involve mutual trust and understanding.
Life with Potter would mean opening up and giving a little of himself. He saw that unless he made a different choice now, his remaining years would be only marginally different from his life to date. While that idea did not stress him unduly, the thought of life without Harry caused a deep ache low down, deep in his chest. Unconsciously, he moved his hand to cover the spot, the small gesture of self-comfort bringing little relief.
The bed moved suddenly, the sound of bedsprings startling him. Harry had sat up and pulled a tissue from the box on the side table and had then blown his nose. Snape guessed he was crying silently and immediately felt an irrational surge of annoyance, an impulse to lash out and punish. He transmuted the action into a barked directive, turning his head slightly toward Harry without actually looking directly at him, “Oh for God’s sake, stop snivelling!”
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Snape’s mind replayed a memory of exactly those words, spoken to him in that same impatient, cold tone by his own father. He remembered the intense feeling of shame as he was released from his small bed and told to ‘clean that stinking mess up’. He could almost feel the warm trickle of blood and semen running down the insides of his legs and the painful sting in his backside as he walked past his laughing father. And with perfect clarity, he remembered his decision never to cry or to feel that powerless ever again. He ran shaking hands over his dry face. He had kept his vow. Harry had nothing to do with any of this. Harry was not his father.
Severus swallowed hard, pushing down the aching lump lodged there. “I was eight years old,” he whispered and looking down at his hands, continued, “I vowed never to allow myself to be… overwhelmed, again. I promised myself I would not give my power away, never let… anyone…” Pausing, he swallowed once more; the lump did not seem to be shifting. “Sometimes, with you, I feel…” he exhaled, fanning his hands out in front of him.
“Overwhelmed?” ventured a quiet voice behind him.
Severus bowed his head in a half nod. “Lost. Exposed. Vulnerable. Powerless. I don't know...”
So it was about loss of power. Harry understood a little about that and he yearned to take his lover in his arms and hold him close but knew if he did, Severus would close off again, so he sat quietly, leaving the silent space for Severus to use as he needed. When, after several minutes, Severus had not spoken, Harry asked, “When we make love?”
Severus nodded almost imperceptibly, said, “When… then… I feel… so close to you and then… something happens… I need to take control or-” he stopped. The spectre of the past loomed large in his mind and once again, he saw his father looming huge and terrible over him, felt his strong hands roughly turning him over, tying him down, piercing him again and again.
He gasped and curled forward, hugging himself. It was too much for Harry. He was at Severus’ side in an instant with soft kisses and words of comfort, arms protectively encircling the anguished man, drawing him close, and intuitively shielding him.
Severus uncurled and turned his face to Harry. In an anguished whisper, said, “I don’t want to hurt you. I never mean to hurt you. Not like-” Harry stopped his mouth with a kiss, his tears flowing unashamedly. With a moan, Severus returned the kiss and as it deepened, allowed Harry to lay him back on the bed. They stayed thus, locked in sweet embrace until at last they parted and Harry propped on one elbow, his other hand resting lightly on Severus’ chest tracing the patterns made there by the moonlight.
“You know, I do like it when you tie me down. A lot,” he said in a low voice, “but sometimes, you seem like you are somewhere else, someone else - not the Severus I know. He paused and stilled his hand. “What happened, when you were eight that is? Is that the reason you never let me top?”
Severus placed his hand over Harry’s.“It’s not just you. I have never, willingly, let anyone top me.” His voice lowered as he added, “I just, can’t.”
Harry kissed the back of Severus’ hand and rubbed his cheek across the rise and fall of Severus’ knuckles.“You have nightmares about it sometimes, you know. You cry out.” Harry hesitated, aware that Severus had stilled in that dangerous way again but continued after a shaky intake of breath, ”I didn’t know what it was about before, but now I think I do. It was your father, wasn’t it? He raped you when you were a little boy.”
Severus grimaced as if in sudden pain, closed his eyes and nodded. Harry leaned over and kissed him as softly as he could, then kissed him again and again, his lips soft as the touch of a breeze on a warm summer night. He covered eyelids, lips, nose, and cheeks over and over until he felt the face beneath him soften and tasted the salty tang of Severus’ tears. And then Severus was in his arms, holding him fiercely, his body shaking with silent sobs and Harry could only hold him close and hope that it was enough.
Enough, if not for the man, at least for the boy within, and that was a start.