Fic update: In Between Days (31/34)
Title: In Between Days (31/34)
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Snape kidnaps rescues kidnaps Harry. Starring AmbiguouslyTrustworthy!Severus and ClinicallyDepressed!Harry.
Notes: You can all blame cordelia_v for this cliffhanger; she assured me no-one would mind. I remain dubious. Thanks to aubrem for keeping me on the straight and narrow, such as it is. Previous chapters here.
---
The next few weeks were a blur, passing in a strange haze of magic, sex, and shouting matches. The harder they fought, the harder they fucked, and somehow the combination worked. Harry spent a great deal of time feeling so good he couldn't remember why this had ever been a bad idea.
Snape was becoming more willing to talk to Harry about what was going on in the outside world, and they spent a lot of time dissecting Prophet articles and letters Snape got from his various associates and informants. Harry didn't think he'd ever be patient enough to think the way Snape did; if he tried, he could usually come up with a theory or two, but never twenty-seven of them that still managed to fit all the facts. Not that he ever had all the facts, and that was another problem. All the circular thinking and unknowns and what-ifs gave him a headache. But he could usually ask the right questions, and Snape seemed to think that was a good place to start.
Most of their time during the discussions was spent trying to identify leaks in the Order and the Ministry, and trying to figure out what Voldemort was up to. Snape was summoned twice more, but both times he came back in less than a day, never any worse for wear. Voldemort, he reported, was researching some obscure ritual, and it was making Snape very nervous. Unfortunately, no one had been able to figure out what it was or what it did. Snape actually seemed disgruntled about not being on the research team.
But if there was some improvement in the strategy and planning sessions, or whatever they were, there was vast improvement in dueling. Harry was getting noticeably stronger every day-sometimes very much stronger-and the look in Snape's eyes occasionally bordered on respect, or at least approval. The Dark Arts training, and Defense against same, was going very, very well.
On the other hand, Harry's success seemed to inspire Snape to new heights of viciousness. It was as if he spent most of his time thinking of new and nastier ways to make Harry angry while they were dueling. Harry became used to the itch of irritation under his skin, the anger churning inside him, aching for release. It wasn't until he'd channeled it and used it to decimate Snape's shields with very little effort that he realized what Snape was doing.
He dropped his wand, heard it clatter to the floor.
"Problems, Mr. Potter?" Snape got to his feet and brushed his robes off.
"You-you've been-you don't mean a word you say, do you? Ever." Harry felt strangely gleeful. This new Snape made sense. Harry had always had trouble reconciling the things Snape did with the some of the nastier things he said, and it was a lot easier if he just threw out one half of the problem. He wanted to laugh.
The eyebrow arched. "On the contrary, Potter. I mean every word of what I say."
Harry felt the corner of his mouth turning up, and he tried to stop the smile. He didn't do a particularly good job. "I don't-how am I supposed to take you seriously?"
The other eyebrow went up and Harry barely had time to swear under his breath before his shirt caught on fire. He screamed and dove for his wand. He doused himself before the fire did much damage, and blasted through Snape's shields again, angry at the dirty trick. Snape flew backwards into the wall, and Harry advanced, glaring.
Snape got to his feet. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?"
Harry blinked. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Er. Dueling?"
"Really." Snape's voice was flat. "Because it seems to me that you are playing."
Harry lowered his wand, confused. "No…"
"No? Potter, you took out my shields. You are aware, are you not, that it takes a small amount of time to re-cast them?"
"Yeah…" Harry drew the word out, still not sure where Snape was going with this tirade. He looked furious.
"And your brilliant wartime stratagem, when you have an enemy helpless at your feet, is to glare at him?"
"Oh. Well. No."
"Then, Mr. Potter, I repeat: What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Harry frowned. "But you're not my enemy."
Snape set him on fire.
"FUCK!" he yelled, dousing himself again. "Stop doing that!" His clothes were ruined-at this rate, he was going to run out by the end of the week-and his torso was covered in painful blisters. Snape would heal him later, he knew, but in the meantime, he hurt.
"You'd prefer the Cruciatus?" Snape asked smoothly, raising his wand.
"No," Harry snapped. "I'd prefer you stop being an arse." He peeled his shirt off carefully, grimacing. "I get it, okay? But I'm getting stronger, and we both know it. If I kill you, I want it to be on purpose, not because of some freak accident."
"Very noble," Snape sneered.
"I mean it," Harry said stubbornly. "I don't want to kill you."
Snape put his wand away and ran a long finger down his cheek. "I suppose we could put a gaes on you," he said.
Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "What's that?"
"A restriction on your magic. Normally, you should do everything in your power to avoid them. But I believe-hm. Come along." He headed for the library in a swirl of robes, muttering under his breath about arithmantic constraints and force vertices. Harry glared after him, still hurting, and eventually followed.
It took Snape an entire day to come up with the ritual, but there was a way to make one wizard immune to the magic of another. "Okay," Harry said absently, not looking up from his father's copy of The Lives of Seekers. He heard Snape snarl, and the book went flying out of his hands. "Hey!"
"Do you really want me to be immune to anything you could do to me?"
"Oh," Harry said. He didn't actually care, but he also knew Snape would probably set him on fire for saying so. "No?"
Snape narrowed his eyes. "I hadn't thought it possible, but it seems you really are more foolish than I'd believed."
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He gave it another two weeks before it was long enough to tie back, and then maybe it wouldn't be so annoying. "Do you want me to kill you? You talk about it enough."
"If it becomes necessary, yes." Snape's voice was etched in ice.
"Er. Why would it become necessary?"
"Need I remind you, Mr. Potter, that I am a Death Eater?"
Harry tried not to roll his eyes. "You are not."
"Yes, I am. Perhaps not a loyal one, but a Death Eater all the same." Harry hadn't thought it possible for Snape's voice to get colder, but it did. "We have no idea what ritual the Dark Lord is getting ready to perform. The true extent of the Mark has yet to be tested; he might be able to use it to compel me to do things I would not do otherwise. Your blind faith in me is touching but entirely misplaced. You do not want to leave yourself without any protection whatsoever."
Harry looked thoughtfully at Snape for a few seconds. "You know, all your little speeches about how I shouldn't trust you? Lately they just make me trust you more."
Snape's lip curled. "You're a fool," he said again, and poured himself a drink.
"One for me, too, please," Harry said with a sigh. Snape nodded, poured, and floated him the glass. "Right. So what are the options for this spell?"
They eventually worked out a way for Snape to turn the gaes on and off. Snape still wasn't thrilled with that solution, but it seemed to be the only one available. The only other limitation they found would have given the control to Harry, but he didn't trust himself to turn it on when it needed to be on, and Snape insisted that full immunity at all times was out of the question. Harry supposed it wouldn't be very useful to duel with someone who was immune to everything you did, so he conceded the point.
Another day, one spell, two potions, and one ritual coupling later, and Harry felt a lot better about using his full power against Snape. Snape left the gaes off most of the time, but he did trigger it if he got hurt, or if Harry seemed exceptionally angry. Harry had to admit it helped, knowing he wouldn't accidentally kill Snape, and he continued to improve at an almost alarming rate. Snape's only rule was that Harry couldn't cast the Killing Curse, because the gaes wouldn't block it. But as Harry had no intention of trying, he didn't mind.
Snape's standing with Dumbledore, however, seemed to be plummeting almost daily. He was getting more and more cagey, and they weren't any closer to figuring out who the spy in the Order was.
"Do you tell Dumbledore everything you find out?" Harry was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the library, newspaper and parchment strewn all over the floor around him.
"For the most part."
"So, that's a no," Harry said. He was getting better at interpreting. "Maybe you should tell him you've got me. Look at this-" He waved Dumbledore's latest missive at Snape, who was sitting in a nearby armchair with a book. "This is useless. He's not telling you anything anymore."
"And you think he will if he knows I've kidnapped you?" Snape didn't look up, but his tone spoke volumes.
Harry frowned, and then grinned. "Well. Or you could tell him you found me. I really was in a Death Eater prison and you rescued me."
Snape glared over the top of the book. "Potter."
"I know," Harry said with a sigh. "I just think we should tell him. You didn't do anything wrong. The Lestranges almost had me, and you saved me, and there's a spy, and you did what you needed to do. I'm-better, now. And if it's all right with me, it should be all right with Dumbledore."
Snape closed the book and set it aside. "He'll want to see you."
"Oh." Harry hadn't thought about that. He hadn't seen anyone except Snape in months. And somehow he still felt more connected to the world, to his life, than he had all those other summers at the Dursleys. He tilted his head and looked at Snape, a slight smile on his face. "That's-odd," he said. The eyebrow went up. "I don't think you're keeping things from me. And you're keeping everything from me."
"My, my, Potter. That verged on profound." He pursed his lips. "Or utterly nonsensical. I'm unsure."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I just-it's the opposite of what he does, isn't it? I don't know if I want to see him. I'm still angry. About-before. With Sirius. And DON'T say anything, I know I shouldn't have run off. But he didn't help things any."
Snape, miraculously, didn't say anything. Harry took a deep breath and steered his mind back towards the question of telling Dumbledore. "Right. What else should I be thinking about?"
"Occlumency. Yours still leaves something to be desired."
Harry frowned. It did, but they hadn't really been working on it. "What's that got to do with Dumbledore?"
"Unless you'd like him apprised of our sleeping arrangements, Potter, it needs to be rather better."
"Oh. I guess that wouldn't be good, would it?"
"Not remotely."
Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "But-why not? What business is it of his who I sleep with? You didn't force me."
Snape stared at his hands, flexing them. "You are probably the only one who would say so."
Meaning Snape wouldn't say so, either. "Er." Harry didn't know what to say to that, but his whole being seemed to be rebelling against the idea. "But-you didn't."
"Perhaps not," Snape said at last, turning to look at Harry. "But I don't recall giving you much of a choice in the matter, either."
"Oh," Harry said, still at something of a loss. These attacks of almost-conscience were unsettling. "But I wanted. I still want." He burned with it, and sometimes he thought it might devour him whole. He stood up, pushed the fringe out of his eyes, and walked over to Snape's chair. "I don't-are you-is this something you're worried about?"
Snape snorted and looked up, crossing his legs at the knee. "I've been called worse things in my life than rapist, Potter." Harry winced, and Snape's lips twisted. "Some of them by you, if I recall. But you should be aware that this-" He waved a hand between them. "-is going to change once we're no longer quite so cozily ensconced."
Slowly, Harry moved closer and put his knee on the chair next to Snape's thigh. Snape raised an eyebrow but shifted over, uncrossing his legs, giving Harry room to straddle him on the chair. Harry lowered himself carefully, not sure if he was more pleased by his own daring or by Snape's indulgence. He put his hands on Snape's shoulders and let his eyes roam over the familiar lines of Snape's face, the thin lips, the hooked nose. He resisted the urge to grin at Snape's eyebrows, slightly raised, and instead forced himself to meet Snape's eyes, which burned into his with an intensity he still found unnerving.
"I know," he said softly. He couldn't imagine what his friends would say if they found out. It wouldn't be pleasant.
Snape's hands moved to rest lightly on his hips, his thumbs pressing into Harry's hip-bones. "Term starts in two weeks," he said.
Harry dropped his head to Snape's shoulder, suddenly unsure of how he felt. He knew he'd have to go out in the real world eventually, but two weeks was very soon. He was just starting to get comfortable with himself again, and he didn't know how well he'd handle going back to Hogwarts, even though he did miss his friends.
One of Snape's hands trailed up Harry's back, tangled in his hair, and tugged gently. Harry resisted for a few seconds, but eventually lifted his head to meet Snape's inquisitive look. "What's going to happen?" he asked.
Snape moved his hands to the small of Harry's back, sliding under the t-shirt to rest on his skin. Desire curled in Harry's belly, and he shifted closer. "I don't know," Snape said. "There are several options, all either distasteful or unlikely."
His fingers ran up and down Harry's spine, and Harry wondered how on earth he was supposed to think. He wrapped his arm around Snape's neck and leaned in to nuzzle at his jaw. "Like what?"
Snape's breath huffed over his ear. "You could stay here while I return to Hogwarts. I'd come back whenever possible, but you'd spend most of your time alone."
Harry's arms clenched a little tighter around Snape. He didn't like that idea; he didn't do so well alone for days at a time. He nipped at Snape's jaw. "What else?"
"We could both return to Hogwarts," Snape said, and grazed his teeth over Harry's earlobe. "I could hide you in the dungeons."
Harry rocked forwards, grinding his awakening erection against Snape's lap. "Keep me tied to the bed?"
Snape tugged Harry's shirt up and over his head, tossing it on the floor. "Tempting," he murmured, thumbs grazing Harry's nipples.
Harry clutched at Snape's shoulders and arched his back, straining into Snape's touch. "What else?" He gasped out.
Fingernails skittered down his back. "You could kill the Dark Lord. Then you could do anything you wanted."
"Okay," Harry breathed, twisting in Snape's arms. "Think I can?"
"You've power enough," Snape said, fingers at the button on Harry's jeans. "But not focus."
Harry gasped and lifted his hips to give Snape better access. "What else?"
"I may be able to convince the headmaster to give me several weeks' leave to pursue this ritual the Dark Lord is researching." Snape opened the zip, releasing some of the pressure on Harry's cock.
"That sounds good," Harry said, inching closer. He didn't know why Snape didn't just magic his clothes away. "We could stay here, then?"
"Mm," Snape said, lips and tongue working their way down Harry's neck. His right hand slid inside Harry's pants to cup his arse. "I would have to do some work."
"Right," Harry breathed, twisting Snape's hair around his hands and grinding against his lap. "Work. Yeah."
Snape wrapped his left arm around Harry and fisted his hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. The heavy fabric of his robes was scratching and tickling Harry's skin as Snape pulled him closer, his right hand curling under his arse and teasing at the skin behind his balls. It pulled his pants tight against his cock, and Harry moaned and shifted his hips, trying to get a better angle.
Harry tossed his glasses on the floor and leaned in to kiss Snape, the almost desperate movement of their mouths going straight to Harry's cock. He groaned and sucked on Snape's tongue, his hips pumping furiously as Snape's long fingers pressed against him. Snape pulled away from the kiss long enough to whisper in his ear, "Five seconds, Potter."
"Oh, god," Harry panted, as Snape flexed his hand, pulling Harry's pants tighter. Harry moved his hips faster as the pressure built in his balls, on the brink of panic that five seconds wasn't long enough. But then Snape's fingers pressed slightly at his hole, and Harry bit down on Snape's tongue, coming with a strangled cry.
"God," he said again, when he could breathe. He untangled one of his arms and brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes, and then went limp in Snape's arms. Snape's cool hands trailed up and down his back, and Harry was in very real danger of falling asleep. He turned his head to lick at a drop of sweat making its way down Snape's neck. "What about you?"
"Later," Snape said, voice dark and full of promise. Harry shivered.
"Okay," he said. "Did we decide what we're going to do?"
"I shall speak to the headmaster, but I very much doubt he will grant my request."
"Oh," Harry said, unable to muster much disappointment right that second. "Guess you're tying me to the bed, then."
He felt one of Snape's arms twitch; fingernails scraped against his backbone. But Snape only said, "later," in that same dark tone, and Harry fell asleep after all.
He woke up alone in the bed, a piece of parchment where Snape was supposed to be. He'd been summoned again, and was also planning to speak to Dumbledore. Harry sighed unhappily, shucked his jeans, and went back to sleep.
***
The next time he woke up, it was in a blind, pain-fueled panic. His scar was on fire, the pain instantly, ominously recognizable. Heart hammering, he rolled out of bed and pulled on his jeans and his invisibility cloak, and silently made his way to the window. He checked quickly, saw no-one, and Apparated to just outside the front door. It was open slightly, and Harry heard low voices coming from just inside.
He gripped his wand tightly, made sure his cloak was secure around him, peeked inside, and stopped breathing.
It wasn't happening. It couldn't possibly be happening, Harry thought, and for a few seconds he honestly didn't understand what he was seeing. He blinked and shook his head, thinking he might see something else, or wake up. But that was Snape, as if Harry would ever fail to recognize him, and as Harry's vision swam, he dropped to his knees in front of Voldemort.
##
next part
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Snape kidnaps rescues kidnaps Harry. Starring AmbiguouslyTrustworthy!Severus and ClinicallyDepressed!Harry.
Notes: You can all blame cordelia_v for this cliffhanger; she assured me no-one would mind. I remain dubious. Thanks to aubrem for keeping me on the straight and narrow, such as it is. Previous chapters here.
---
The next few weeks were a blur, passing in a strange haze of magic, sex, and shouting matches. The harder they fought, the harder they fucked, and somehow the combination worked. Harry spent a great deal of time feeling so good he couldn't remember why this had ever been a bad idea.
Snape was becoming more willing to talk to Harry about what was going on in the outside world, and they spent a lot of time dissecting Prophet articles and letters Snape got from his various associates and informants. Harry didn't think he'd ever be patient enough to think the way Snape did; if he tried, he could usually come up with a theory or two, but never twenty-seven of them that still managed to fit all the facts. Not that he ever had all the facts, and that was another problem. All the circular thinking and unknowns and what-ifs gave him a headache. But he could usually ask the right questions, and Snape seemed to think that was a good place to start.
Most of their time during the discussions was spent trying to identify leaks in the Order and the Ministry, and trying to figure out what Voldemort was up to. Snape was summoned twice more, but both times he came back in less than a day, never any worse for wear. Voldemort, he reported, was researching some obscure ritual, and it was making Snape very nervous. Unfortunately, no one had been able to figure out what it was or what it did. Snape actually seemed disgruntled about not being on the research team.
But if there was some improvement in the strategy and planning sessions, or whatever they were, there was vast improvement in dueling. Harry was getting noticeably stronger every day-sometimes very much stronger-and the look in Snape's eyes occasionally bordered on respect, or at least approval. The Dark Arts training, and Defense against same, was going very, very well.
On the other hand, Harry's success seemed to inspire Snape to new heights of viciousness. It was as if he spent most of his time thinking of new and nastier ways to make Harry angry while they were dueling. Harry became used to the itch of irritation under his skin, the anger churning inside him, aching for release. It wasn't until he'd channeled it and used it to decimate Snape's shields with very little effort that he realized what Snape was doing.
He dropped his wand, heard it clatter to the floor.
"Problems, Mr. Potter?" Snape got to his feet and brushed his robes off.
"You-you've been-you don't mean a word you say, do you? Ever." Harry felt strangely gleeful. This new Snape made sense. Harry had always had trouble reconciling the things Snape did with the some of the nastier things he said, and it was a lot easier if he just threw out one half of the problem. He wanted to laugh.
The eyebrow arched. "On the contrary, Potter. I mean every word of what I say."
Harry felt the corner of his mouth turning up, and he tried to stop the smile. He didn't do a particularly good job. "I don't-how am I supposed to take you seriously?"
The other eyebrow went up and Harry barely had time to swear under his breath before his shirt caught on fire. He screamed and dove for his wand. He doused himself before the fire did much damage, and blasted through Snape's shields again, angry at the dirty trick. Snape flew backwards into the wall, and Harry advanced, glaring.
Snape got to his feet. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?"
Harry blinked. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Er. Dueling?"
"Really." Snape's voice was flat. "Because it seems to me that you are playing."
Harry lowered his wand, confused. "No…"
"No? Potter, you took out my shields. You are aware, are you not, that it takes a small amount of time to re-cast them?"
"Yeah…" Harry drew the word out, still not sure where Snape was going with this tirade. He looked furious.
"And your brilliant wartime stratagem, when you have an enemy helpless at your feet, is to glare at him?"
"Oh. Well. No."
"Then, Mr. Potter, I repeat: What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Harry frowned. "But you're not my enemy."
Snape set him on fire.
"FUCK!" he yelled, dousing himself again. "Stop doing that!" His clothes were ruined-at this rate, he was going to run out by the end of the week-and his torso was covered in painful blisters. Snape would heal him later, he knew, but in the meantime, he hurt.
"You'd prefer the Cruciatus?" Snape asked smoothly, raising his wand.
"No," Harry snapped. "I'd prefer you stop being an arse." He peeled his shirt off carefully, grimacing. "I get it, okay? But I'm getting stronger, and we both know it. If I kill you, I want it to be on purpose, not because of some freak accident."
"Very noble," Snape sneered.
"I mean it," Harry said stubbornly. "I don't want to kill you."
Snape put his wand away and ran a long finger down his cheek. "I suppose we could put a gaes on you," he said.
Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "What's that?"
"A restriction on your magic. Normally, you should do everything in your power to avoid them. But I believe-hm. Come along." He headed for the library in a swirl of robes, muttering under his breath about arithmantic constraints and force vertices. Harry glared after him, still hurting, and eventually followed.
It took Snape an entire day to come up with the ritual, but there was a way to make one wizard immune to the magic of another. "Okay," Harry said absently, not looking up from his father's copy of The Lives of Seekers. He heard Snape snarl, and the book went flying out of his hands. "Hey!"
"Do you really want me to be immune to anything you could do to me?"
"Oh," Harry said. He didn't actually care, but he also knew Snape would probably set him on fire for saying so. "No?"
Snape narrowed his eyes. "I hadn't thought it possible, but it seems you really are more foolish than I'd believed."
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He gave it another two weeks before it was long enough to tie back, and then maybe it wouldn't be so annoying. "Do you want me to kill you? You talk about it enough."
"If it becomes necessary, yes." Snape's voice was etched in ice.
"Er. Why would it become necessary?"
"Need I remind you, Mr. Potter, that I am a Death Eater?"
Harry tried not to roll his eyes. "You are not."
"Yes, I am. Perhaps not a loyal one, but a Death Eater all the same." Harry hadn't thought it possible for Snape's voice to get colder, but it did. "We have no idea what ritual the Dark Lord is getting ready to perform. The true extent of the Mark has yet to be tested; he might be able to use it to compel me to do things I would not do otherwise. Your blind faith in me is touching but entirely misplaced. You do not want to leave yourself without any protection whatsoever."
Harry looked thoughtfully at Snape for a few seconds. "You know, all your little speeches about how I shouldn't trust you? Lately they just make me trust you more."
Snape's lip curled. "You're a fool," he said again, and poured himself a drink.
"One for me, too, please," Harry said with a sigh. Snape nodded, poured, and floated him the glass. "Right. So what are the options for this spell?"
They eventually worked out a way for Snape to turn the gaes on and off. Snape still wasn't thrilled with that solution, but it seemed to be the only one available. The only other limitation they found would have given the control to Harry, but he didn't trust himself to turn it on when it needed to be on, and Snape insisted that full immunity at all times was out of the question. Harry supposed it wouldn't be very useful to duel with someone who was immune to everything you did, so he conceded the point.
Another day, one spell, two potions, and one ritual coupling later, and Harry felt a lot better about using his full power against Snape. Snape left the gaes off most of the time, but he did trigger it if he got hurt, or if Harry seemed exceptionally angry. Harry had to admit it helped, knowing he wouldn't accidentally kill Snape, and he continued to improve at an almost alarming rate. Snape's only rule was that Harry couldn't cast the Killing Curse, because the gaes wouldn't block it. But as Harry had no intention of trying, he didn't mind.
Snape's standing with Dumbledore, however, seemed to be plummeting almost daily. He was getting more and more cagey, and they weren't any closer to figuring out who the spy in the Order was.
"Do you tell Dumbledore everything you find out?" Harry was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the library, newspaper and parchment strewn all over the floor around him.
"For the most part."
"So, that's a no," Harry said. He was getting better at interpreting. "Maybe you should tell him you've got me. Look at this-" He waved Dumbledore's latest missive at Snape, who was sitting in a nearby armchair with a book. "This is useless. He's not telling you anything anymore."
"And you think he will if he knows I've kidnapped you?" Snape didn't look up, but his tone spoke volumes.
Harry frowned, and then grinned. "Well. Or you could tell him you found me. I really was in a Death Eater prison and you rescued me."
Snape glared over the top of the book. "Potter."
"I know," Harry said with a sigh. "I just think we should tell him. You didn't do anything wrong. The Lestranges almost had me, and you saved me, and there's a spy, and you did what you needed to do. I'm-better, now. And if it's all right with me, it should be all right with Dumbledore."
Snape closed the book and set it aside. "He'll want to see you."
"Oh." Harry hadn't thought about that. He hadn't seen anyone except Snape in months. And somehow he still felt more connected to the world, to his life, than he had all those other summers at the Dursleys. He tilted his head and looked at Snape, a slight smile on his face. "That's-odd," he said. The eyebrow went up. "I don't think you're keeping things from me. And you're keeping everything from me."
"My, my, Potter. That verged on profound." He pursed his lips. "Or utterly nonsensical. I'm unsure."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I just-it's the opposite of what he does, isn't it? I don't know if I want to see him. I'm still angry. About-before. With Sirius. And DON'T say anything, I know I shouldn't have run off. But he didn't help things any."
Snape, miraculously, didn't say anything. Harry took a deep breath and steered his mind back towards the question of telling Dumbledore. "Right. What else should I be thinking about?"
"Occlumency. Yours still leaves something to be desired."
Harry frowned. It did, but they hadn't really been working on it. "What's that got to do with Dumbledore?"
"Unless you'd like him apprised of our sleeping arrangements, Potter, it needs to be rather better."
"Oh. I guess that wouldn't be good, would it?"
"Not remotely."
Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "But-why not? What business is it of his who I sleep with? You didn't force me."
Snape stared at his hands, flexing them. "You are probably the only one who would say so."
Meaning Snape wouldn't say so, either. "Er." Harry didn't know what to say to that, but his whole being seemed to be rebelling against the idea. "But-you didn't."
"Perhaps not," Snape said at last, turning to look at Harry. "But I don't recall giving you much of a choice in the matter, either."
"Oh," Harry said, still at something of a loss. These attacks of almost-conscience were unsettling. "But I wanted. I still want." He burned with it, and sometimes he thought it might devour him whole. He stood up, pushed the fringe out of his eyes, and walked over to Snape's chair. "I don't-are you-is this something you're worried about?"
Snape snorted and looked up, crossing his legs at the knee. "I've been called worse things in my life than rapist, Potter." Harry winced, and Snape's lips twisted. "Some of them by you, if I recall. But you should be aware that this-" He waved a hand between them. "-is going to change once we're no longer quite so cozily ensconced."
Slowly, Harry moved closer and put his knee on the chair next to Snape's thigh. Snape raised an eyebrow but shifted over, uncrossing his legs, giving Harry room to straddle him on the chair. Harry lowered himself carefully, not sure if he was more pleased by his own daring or by Snape's indulgence. He put his hands on Snape's shoulders and let his eyes roam over the familiar lines of Snape's face, the thin lips, the hooked nose. He resisted the urge to grin at Snape's eyebrows, slightly raised, and instead forced himself to meet Snape's eyes, which burned into his with an intensity he still found unnerving.
"I know," he said softly. He couldn't imagine what his friends would say if they found out. It wouldn't be pleasant.
Snape's hands moved to rest lightly on his hips, his thumbs pressing into Harry's hip-bones. "Term starts in two weeks," he said.
Harry dropped his head to Snape's shoulder, suddenly unsure of how he felt. He knew he'd have to go out in the real world eventually, but two weeks was very soon. He was just starting to get comfortable with himself again, and he didn't know how well he'd handle going back to Hogwarts, even though he did miss his friends.
One of Snape's hands trailed up Harry's back, tangled in his hair, and tugged gently. Harry resisted for a few seconds, but eventually lifted his head to meet Snape's inquisitive look. "What's going to happen?" he asked.
Snape moved his hands to the small of Harry's back, sliding under the t-shirt to rest on his skin. Desire curled in Harry's belly, and he shifted closer. "I don't know," Snape said. "There are several options, all either distasteful or unlikely."
His fingers ran up and down Harry's spine, and Harry wondered how on earth he was supposed to think. He wrapped his arm around Snape's neck and leaned in to nuzzle at his jaw. "Like what?"
Snape's breath huffed over his ear. "You could stay here while I return to Hogwarts. I'd come back whenever possible, but you'd spend most of your time alone."
Harry's arms clenched a little tighter around Snape. He didn't like that idea; he didn't do so well alone for days at a time. He nipped at Snape's jaw. "What else?"
"We could both return to Hogwarts," Snape said, and grazed his teeth over Harry's earlobe. "I could hide you in the dungeons."
Harry rocked forwards, grinding his awakening erection against Snape's lap. "Keep me tied to the bed?"
Snape tugged Harry's shirt up and over his head, tossing it on the floor. "Tempting," he murmured, thumbs grazing Harry's nipples.
Harry clutched at Snape's shoulders and arched his back, straining into Snape's touch. "What else?" He gasped out.
Fingernails skittered down his back. "You could kill the Dark Lord. Then you could do anything you wanted."
"Okay," Harry breathed, twisting in Snape's arms. "Think I can?"
"You've power enough," Snape said, fingers at the button on Harry's jeans. "But not focus."
Harry gasped and lifted his hips to give Snape better access. "What else?"
"I may be able to convince the headmaster to give me several weeks' leave to pursue this ritual the Dark Lord is researching." Snape opened the zip, releasing some of the pressure on Harry's cock.
"That sounds good," Harry said, inching closer. He didn't know why Snape didn't just magic his clothes away. "We could stay here, then?"
"Mm," Snape said, lips and tongue working their way down Harry's neck. His right hand slid inside Harry's pants to cup his arse. "I would have to do some work."
"Right," Harry breathed, twisting Snape's hair around his hands and grinding against his lap. "Work. Yeah."
Snape wrapped his left arm around Harry and fisted his hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. The heavy fabric of his robes was scratching and tickling Harry's skin as Snape pulled him closer, his right hand curling under his arse and teasing at the skin behind his balls. It pulled his pants tight against his cock, and Harry moaned and shifted his hips, trying to get a better angle.
Harry tossed his glasses on the floor and leaned in to kiss Snape, the almost desperate movement of their mouths going straight to Harry's cock. He groaned and sucked on Snape's tongue, his hips pumping furiously as Snape's long fingers pressed against him. Snape pulled away from the kiss long enough to whisper in his ear, "Five seconds, Potter."
"Oh, god," Harry panted, as Snape flexed his hand, pulling Harry's pants tighter. Harry moved his hips faster as the pressure built in his balls, on the brink of panic that five seconds wasn't long enough. But then Snape's fingers pressed slightly at his hole, and Harry bit down on Snape's tongue, coming with a strangled cry.
"God," he said again, when he could breathe. He untangled one of his arms and brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes, and then went limp in Snape's arms. Snape's cool hands trailed up and down his back, and Harry was in very real danger of falling asleep. He turned his head to lick at a drop of sweat making its way down Snape's neck. "What about you?"
"Later," Snape said, voice dark and full of promise. Harry shivered.
"Okay," he said. "Did we decide what we're going to do?"
"I shall speak to the headmaster, but I very much doubt he will grant my request."
"Oh," Harry said, unable to muster much disappointment right that second. "Guess you're tying me to the bed, then."
He felt one of Snape's arms twitch; fingernails scraped against his backbone. But Snape only said, "later," in that same dark tone, and Harry fell asleep after all.
He woke up alone in the bed, a piece of parchment where Snape was supposed to be. He'd been summoned again, and was also planning to speak to Dumbledore. Harry sighed unhappily, shucked his jeans, and went back to sleep.
***
The next time he woke up, it was in a blind, pain-fueled panic. His scar was on fire, the pain instantly, ominously recognizable. Heart hammering, he rolled out of bed and pulled on his jeans and his invisibility cloak, and silently made his way to the window. He checked quickly, saw no-one, and Apparated to just outside the front door. It was open slightly, and Harry heard low voices coming from just inside.
He gripped his wand tightly, made sure his cloak was secure around him, peeked inside, and stopped breathing.
It wasn't happening. It couldn't possibly be happening, Harry thought, and for a few seconds he honestly didn't understand what he was seeing. He blinked and shook his head, thinking he might see something else, or wake up. But that was Snape, as if Harry would ever fail to recognize him, and as Harry's vision swam, he dropped to his knees in front of Voldemort.
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