Entry tags:

2008_fic, bondage, pwp, snape/harry

8th Snapely Holidays Entry - Symbiosis (Snape/Harry)

Fic for: starcrossdkayla
Title: Symbiosis
Author: regasssa

Pairing Snape/Harry
Rating NC-17
Warnings PWP, Light bondage, graphic sex, love/hate, blow job
Summary Without Voldemort's soul, part of Harry has become unwound, like a loose thread in a wool jumper, slowly fraying away. It's up to Snape to knit him back together again.
Disclaimer The world of HP and its characters belongs to Rowling. The author of this fic has borrowed them for the purposes of storytelling. No profit was or will be made.
Word count ~3,500
Author Notes Starcrossed made it very obvious that she wanted realistic sex, so I tried as hard as I could. I hope you enjoy it!

Symbiosis

"Dying? How can I be dying?"

"You were so closely bound to Voldemort for so long; supported by a stronger wizard's magic. I can only begin to guess at the effect that his death has had on your body. You had a part of yourself ripped away."

"But..." Harry looked up at the portrait desperately, trying to think out some way to undo what Dumbledore had told him. At first he'd thought that he was just a little sick, but as time had gone on, it had become worse. He felt drained -- didn't have the magic to perform simple tasks, let alone complicated spells. He'd thought that he was losing it; asked Dumbledore whether he might actually have been a squib without Voldemort's soul inside of him, and not been expecting the answer that he was given.

"Voldemort's soul within you...it was symbiotic. That is...you relied as much upon his strength as your own; you used it, and it in turn supported you. You cannot simply rip it out without there being grave consequences. I'm sorry, Harry."

"Isn't there a way to fix it?" he asked.

"You could find another wizard willing to share their soul with you."

"To...make me into a Horcrux again? You have to be kidding."

Dumbledore sighed, "There's more than one way to share one's soul with another human being, Harry. I would have thought that by now you had realised that."

For a moment Harry frowned at Dumbledore, perplexed, and then the nuances revealed themselves to him. "Oh," he said.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore pressed, his brow furrowing. "That isn't quite what I mean. It must be a wizard, for one thing; and a powerful one, with a similar magical signature to that of Voldemort."

"A wizard? But I'm not...I'm not gay."

Dumbledore's lips curled up at the edges, and he said, archly, "Is there something wrong with homosexuality, Harry?"

Sitting up, startled, Harry studied Dumbledore's face for a moment, and then all at once his eyes opened wider, and he saw it. "Oh g...sorry, Sir! I didn't realise!"

"Quite alright; quite alright. Although not particularly observant of you, I have to admit." Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Now...onto the matter at hand. I believe I can find you a suitable wizard..."

"But..."

"Do you want to die, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, unhappily.

"Then I suggest you prepare yourself. When I have found a suitable candidate, I will send him to you."


- * - * - * -


When Harry opened the door, he did not expect to see who he saw on the other side of it. There were good reasons for that, the most striking one being that the man was supposed to be dead. He'd watched him die. But Severus Snape, if anything, looked more alive than ever. His sharp, beetle black eyes shone with a dark humour, presumably at Harry's expression, and his lips were pursed together, presumably in an attempt at looking especially displeased.

"Are you going to invite me in, Mr. Potter, or do you intend to stand there gaping at me for the next fortnight? We are neither of us getting younger."

Harry wasn't entirely sure what to do, so he just moved himself out of the way -- not nearly fast enough, because Snape's shoulder brushed his own as he swept past.

"Er..." he said, startled, and slammed the door shut. This was just too strange.

"Aren't I supposed to be dead?" Snape asked, moving into the kitchen with Harry scurrying after him. "Yes, I suppose I am. Have you had decorators in?"

"Er...no. It looked like this under all the dirt. Kreacher cleaned it."

Snape frowned at Harry, just for a moment, and then shrugged and glanced away. Feeling decidedly weak, Harry went to sit down in the nearest wooden chair, the legs screeching as they slid across the tiled floor. The sound seemed to irritate Snape, judging by the sudden inclination of his head, but he didn't turn around. Harry bit his lip, wondering what to say.

"The headmaster tells me that you have a problem."

Harry flushed, looking down. Was Dumbledore talking to everyone about it, then? Harry hadn't even mentioned it to his friends, not sure how to explain it. And besides, Hermione would worry, and Ron would just be a pain and say things like 'He can't really mean a wizard, right?'

It suddenly dawned on him that Severus Snape was a wizard.

"Oh no. No. No way." Harry stood up, quickly. "He can't mean you."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Potter," Snape answered. "Do you think I am fond of the idea?"

"Then why did you even..."

Snape bristled, turning to face him. "You saw why, Potter. I vowed to protect Lily's son. And I meant it...whatever that entailed." He screwed his nose up slightly, and Harry had to look away.

"I'd rather die."

"That's unfortunate," Snape answered.

"Dumbledore can't seriously...there has to be someone else."

"Lucius Malfoy," Severus said, "Lestrange. Goyle. Take your pick. But I am the most likely candidate -- a half blood of considerable magical ability; a wielder of dark magic. I have the scar to prove that I was once as much a part of Voldemort as you. My qualifications are obvious."

"But..."

Harry didn't want to look Snape in the eye. Would he really have to do this just to live? Share Snape's soul? It was probably just as oily as he was. Damn it...but he didn't want to die, either!

"What do I have to do?" he asked, resentfully.

"That's up to you, Potter. Would you like to be romanced, or would you like to just get on with it?"


- * - * - * -


That was how he'd ended up sitting at a table in an upmarket wizard restaurant, watching Snape watch him eating, with a violin shrieking in his ear.

"They hate it when you just have water," Harry pointed out, trying to make some kind of conversation. Snape's eyes kept going between too invasive and effortlessly evading making contact, and to be quite honest it was driving him nuts. What was going through his mind, anyway? Probably thinking of horrible things to do to him. Yeah, that had to be it.

Snape made a sound like a snort and then reached for his glass, sipping at it. Damn, he was just so infuriating!

"Harry!"

Oh no... No. The last thing he needed was for anyone to see him here. He looked up, afraid of who he'd see.

"Neville. Luna. It's ah...nice to see you."

"We booked in weeks ago just to get a table. Who are you here with, Ginny?"

Harry frowned, looking up toward the opposite seat to find it empty. That was odd...Snape had just been there a second ago. "Um...no. It's a...a mate from work."

"Oh," Neville said, and grinned. "Well I won't wish you luck, then, if you know what I mean. I'd offer to link up tables but ah...Luna and I are here on a date."

Harry grinned, glancing toward Luna, who was looking as faraway as usual, her sparkling eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Hey, Luna," Harry said, and she waved at him absently. Well...it was better than nothing, he supposed. Neville swept her away, and Harry stood up, going to settle the bill. Snape was waiting patiently for him outside.

"Why did you do that?" Harry asked, honestly curious. It had been a mercy, he supposed.

"You will tell them when you feel comfortable doing so, I imagine. Shall we?"

"Wha...hang on - this is only, you know...a one night thing, isn't it?" He was uncomfortable enough with it as it was...and going out and spending a 'romantic' evening together had only made things worse, suspending the reality of what they were doing and stretching out his suffering to a painful length.

"Oh no, Potter. If you want a part of my soul, it is going to take a lot more than a one night stand to secure it. Is that what you thought?"

"But...but I have a girlfriend," Harry protested, "Or...I will have. Look, I'm straight, you know."

"And I only liked your mother because I thought that she was a man," Snape drawled, bitterly. "Do you think I want to sleep with you, Potter? I'd rather have a staring contest with a basilisk, or pick poisonous roses, or sing an operatic duet with a banshee. You aren't exactly my type."

Harry scowled, staring holes in the pavement. "Fine," Harry hissed. "Let's get this over with."

"Which part of..."

"Just shut up," Harry spat, "And I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."


- * - * - * -


"If you want this to work, you're going to have to take your clothes off."

"Yeah...real romantic." Harry could feel himself shaking. This wasn't working out at all. Snape's sarcastic comments made him keep wanting to hit him instead of shag him, and he was having trouble working out how they'd even managed to get into the bedroom without lunging at each other's throats.

"Just...just turn around, Potter. Close your eyes."

Oh, he was grateful to. Anything not to look at Snape any more. He glowered at the wardrobe, trying not to flinch as Snape's hands came up to his chest and began tugging open buttons. About half way down he reached up to bat him away, doing several of them back up.

"Potter, if you can't hold still, I will have to restrain you."

"You'll what?" Harry asked, turning to glare up at him in disgust. "You wouldn't dare."

"I would. Undo your robes."

"No way."

"Then I have no choice."

There was something really frightening about Snape's eyes for just a moment, and Harry stepped back, driven the rest of the way. He stopped when his back hit the wardrobe and rallied himself, narrowing his eyes.

But then Snape's hands clamped on his wrists, and he forgot all about being brave.

"Don't," he growled, but Snape seemed not to hear him, half pulling and half pushing him over to the bed, then pinning him in place on it. Only then did Harry admit that he was actually frightened, a flicker of fear rising in his chest like a desperate flame.

Snape's grip loosened, just a little. "I'll stop if you think it will help," he said. "But you will die if we do not persist."

Harry swallowed, then closed his eyes tightly, letting Snape move his hands up to the headboard. In the meantime he tried to fight the panic inside of him. It would be so much easier to let go of control than to be in control and have to do this anyway, but he was terrified, both of the act itself and of what it might mean to him.

With the restraints in place, Snape brushed kisses over his chest, stroked soothing circles with his hands into his shoulders, and slowly Harry opened his eyes again.

"Are you all right?" Snape said, and Harry nodded and swallowed. This felt so strange...horrible and slightly wonderful in an equally terrible way. What was wrong with him? This was Snape...and he was tied up. There was nothing even remotely good about this situation; not even the slightest bit enjoyable. But what, then, was that thrill?

The buttons were opened again; it felt like being peeled, all of his protection going away until there was just his skin and Snape's eyes -- lips, hands, tongue.

He wanted to scream and fight; to say 'don't don't don't!' and 'please stop', so instead he bit down on his tongue, letting the other man lean over him. He wasn't being raped, and Snape didn't want to be here.

"I'll look after you," Snape said, uncharacteristically kindly, while pressing intimate kisses across the curve of his hip. Harry fell quiet, trying to uncoil and relax. It was almost impossible, but as he exhaled he felt it coming, a slow release in his chest of something that had been wound tight with strands of fear.

When Snape eased down his trousers, the panic sprang back, as though someone had released the other end of the spring inside of him.

"You don't have to do that."

"Oh?" Snape asked, sitting back and looking up at him. "How else do you suggest I do it?"

"Um..." Harry frowned and looked away. "You could...I don't know..."

"What if I turn off the lights? Do you think that would help?"

Turn off the lights. Well...it might work, he supposed. He nodded, slowly, then lay his head back, taking a breath to try and ease the tightness in his chest. The lights went off, and in the darkness, the shape of Snape moved over him again, kissed at his throat, explored his chest, even as his hands went shamelessly down again, pushing his trousers off his hips.

Snape. It was Snape. "Relax, Potter. Stop working yourself up."

"Stop...stop? I can't just..."

His words dissolved into a moan as Snape's hand wrapped around his penis, and he knew that everything was going so wrong. He wasn't gay and he wasn't... But he was dying. He knew it, didn't want to believe it... And Snape was trying to help. But like this? Was this really the answer?

Harry closed his eyes against the sensation, trying not to give in to the desire to melt, to whine and pant and beg. It wasn't right. It was also impossible. His skin was burning, his heart thundering, and Snape's hand was gentle and firm, perfect and yet terrifying. He wanted to make him stop and ask for more at the same time, and now his bottom lip was bleeding.

"That's it," Snape whispered, the words loathsome poetry in his ear, and Harry moaned, tried to resist as he gasped for more air, then gave in, closing his eyes to hide his shame.

Snape shifted on the bed, the sheets rustling, the springs creaking, and then his mouth closed around Harry's cock; hot and warm and...and all kinds of other terrible things. Harry and Ginny had once...oh, but Ginny hadn't done that. Or that!

If it had been anyone else's tongue, that thrill of indecency wouldn't have been there -- but it was Snape's wicked tongue tracing the veins delicately; Snape's tongue drawing the most unnatural moans out of him. Snape's erection rubbing in earnest against his knee.

The words had to wait until Snape had pulled away, and by that point Harry had forgotten them.

"Whurrr..." he said, instead, in the silence that passed between them, and he heard something that could have been a choked laugh...or probably more likely, Snape had swallowed one of his pubic hairs. Snape didn't seem too perturbed, either way; his hands were exploring again, gathering up Harry's knees and lifting them up, before fingers pressed firmly at his arse. Wet, slippery fingers that lingered wherever Harry moaned the loudest -- thumbs that drew little circles along the base of his penis and hands that curled around his testicles, fondling them in an obscenely wonderful way.

Then Snape's fingers - two of them at once - slid into him, breaching the ring of muscle before a surprised Harry could react.

"Don't think we..."

Snape's voice sounded heavier than before, broken with his breathing "Don't think, Potter."

Shit. Snape's fingers were inside of him, twisting and writhing and... Harry shuddered, arching back. How could something so terribly unnatural feel so...well...perfect. Especially when it was Snape. But it wasn't right. How could he...how could it be possible? Harry knew there were only two fingers inside of him, but they felt like broomstick handles. How could Snape expect to...well...do that?

Another finger joined the first two. It was just as slippery, just as wide, and although his body accommodated it - it did hurt. The muscles were stretched, straining, aching...any more than that and they would surely break. And when they moved, it made it all so much worse.

What had been wonderful up until moments before now seemed to become torturous. Snape's fingers turned slowly, and the muscles rippled around the penetration rebelliously. It hurt. "Stop..." he whispered, but Snape seemed to be having none of it. He persisted, and it took what seemed like hours for the pain to ebb away; so that Harry's arousal was near gone when he slid his fingers free, and he was remarkably lucid.

"You're ready."

"Leave to rest for ten minutes and then carve?" Harry quipped, desperately. It was an overwhelming thing to be on the edge of. Snape wanted to...Snape was having sex with him. Harry bit hard on his lip to keep from laughing hysterically.

Snape seemed to be ignoring his ridiculous comment, and judging by the rustling, was stripping out of his own clothes. Harry's trepidation crescendoed.

"Um," he tried, wanting to stop this now, before it got any more out of his control. He didn't like it; not knowing quite how he'd ended up giving in to this situation...

But Snape was already leant over him, his erection pressing against him, hot and slick and hard. Harry leant back, closing his eyes tightly, back arching as slowly Snape pushed inside, breaching the ring of muscle. It hurt just as much as those fingers, but not nearly as much as Harry had expected it to. He'd expected pulsing agony driving up and down his spine, bitter pain. Not a twinge, the threat of more pain if Snape was any rougher, but nothing more.

Harry really needed time to get used to this feeling, so Snape waited, which Harry thought to be very thoughtful, considering the situation they were in. Finally he nodded, breathlessly, and said "Do it."

So Snape moved -- in and then out again -- and stopped to let Harry get used to the feeling of movement, to the pain that came with it and the burn of friction, despite the lubrication.

"How does that feel?" Snape asked, his voice vibrating against Harry's skin.

"How do you think it feels?" Harry asked, not sure whether he was angry or over the moon. The sensation was disturbing, certainly. Having Snape's cock buried in his arse...it didn't have a comparison. And it was almost enjoyable, in a perverse kind of way...just the thought of what they were doing. But how did it feel? Not quite pleasant, but not uncomfortable either. It defied explanation.

Snape moved again, bending Harry slightly in on himself to correct the angle of his thrust, pushing up into him, and for the tiniest spark of a moment, Harry forgot all about discomfort. That was what this was about...that moment of mindblowing pleasure, and Snape gave it to him again as he drove in, drew a frightened gasp of pleasure from his throat at the apex of the movement, and then plunged back for another go.

This he didn't want to stop. This was incredible... Harry arched further back, grinding his head ruthlessly into the feather pillow so that the ticking scratched at his neck, and Snape pulled his knees up higher, leant over him and pounded into him at an achingly steady pace. He wished that he could see him, somehow; but the sensation was mindboggling enough. He was drowning in it -- in the steady rhythm of being fucked into his own mattress, of Snape's heartbeat and Snape's cock and Snape's breath gusting harder and quicker across the fine hairs on his chest...

More speed... Harry reached for his erection, desperate for sensation, twisting on the bed. Something he'd done was just right, because Snape's penis didn't just touch that wonderful place inside of him this time; it positively stroked it. Harry moaned, unable to do much more than just hold himself as Snape leant forward, pinned him in place and sped up to a blinding pace. Nothing else existed except for this act, for that pleasure building like gas inside a shaken pop bottle, and Harry was going to explode.

Snape came first...it could have been half a minute, but Harry wasn't sure. His head had been lifted off his shoulders and it wouldn't stop spinning in place, unpinned. He was aching, and Snape was spasming inside of him, making violent, energetic thrusts that positively drove him over the edge. His own orgasm was just as violent, muscles clenching hard around Snape's cock so that the man whimpered and clawed at his chest in protest, and then slowly the pleasure began to subside, like a tide flowing out, one beat at a time, and as it went, Harry felt the exhaustion pressing in on him like a smothering blanket, and Snape had slid out of him, was speaking into his ear in a barely audible voice.

"Do you think that was enough?" it sounded like.

"Don't think so," Harry slurred - or he thought he had. He leant into Snape's heat gratefully. "Have to make sure, don't we?"




END