Fic update: In Between Days (32/34)
Title: In Between Days (32/34)
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Snape kidnaps rescues kidnaps Harry. Starring AmbiguouslyTrustworthy!Severus and ClinicallyDepressed!Harry.
Notes: I've been away from LJ for a few days and haven't been able to respond to most of your comments, but I swear I'm reading them and appreciating them all. I'll try to get back to everyone this weekend. This chapter owes much to aubrem, whom I tricked into betaing for me. She just doesn't know it yet. Also, OMG please don't kick my ass. There ARE two more chapters left. *hides* Previous chapters here.
---
Harry felt something dark and ugly coil in the center of himself as he watched. It felt like a living thing about to explode out of him, and he had to close his eyes and breathe deeply to rein it in even a little bit. He had to think. That was what Snape was always telling him, and he couldn't afford to just fly off the handle. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like.
He opened his eyes to see that Snape had shifted to one knee, and his arms were resting on the other one as he talked to Voldemort, who was standing at the foot of the stairs. Snape nodded, and Voldemort reached his long white fingers forwards to touch Snape's face. Harry shuddered but couldn't see Snape's reaction; they both had one side to Harry, and most of Snape's face was obscured by his long hair. It was suddenly very important for Harry to get close enough to hear what they were saying.
Harry threw a silencing charm at the door so he could slip through without it creaking, and he crept forwards slowly. His heart seemed to pounding in a rhythm that repeated maybemaybemaybe. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like. He moved a bit to the side, so he was approaching Voldemort's back, and could see Snape's face. The closer he got, the more his scar hurt, and he only hoped Voldemort couldn't sense his presence. Fortunately, he didn't have to go very far before he was close enough to make out their words.
"I don't know, Severus," Voldemort said, the cold voice settling like ice in Harry's veins. "You should have told me."
Snape bowed his head slightly. "Forgive me, my Lord," he said. Harry seethed. "I thought it best to be sure. With the spy, I didn't know who could be trusted."
"Hm…" Voldemort tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "Lucius thinks it's you, you know."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, my Lord? Well, I believe it's Lucius, making yet another clumsy attempt at keeping his options open." He made the last phrase sound slightly less appealing than eating Hippogriff manure. "I have delivered Potter, after all."
Harry's heart stuttered in his chest. Snape sounded fine. He didn't sound like he was under veritaserum, and Harry thought he knew Snape well enough that he'd be able to tell if he were under the Imperius. He didn't look like he'd been tortured. Harry's fist tightened around his wand and he bit his tongue. Maybe. Maybe.
"Have you? You are sure he's here?"
"Yes, my Lord," Snape said shortly.
"Why did you not bring him to me?"
The eyebrow arched slightly. Harry could tell it would have arched much higher if Snape had been talking to him instead of Voldemort. "My Lord, I thought the spy might try to intervene. I did not want to risk it."
Voldemort seemed unconvinced. "How long did you say you've had the boy, Severus?"
"All along, my Lord. I took him from the Muggles."
"And Dumbledore?"
"Is a doddering old fool who's got no idea where the brat is."
"I could deliver him the corpse of Harry Potter," Voldemort mused, a smile evident in his words.
Snape smiled back, rather nastily. "You could indeed, my Lord."
Harry saw the back of Voldemort's head move. "All right, Severus. Bring him to me."
Snape hesitated, his face blank. "He is sleeping, my Lord. It would probably be wiser for you to simply kill him as he does so."
"Oh?"
"Yes, my Lord. While the fool does trust me-"
"Ah, yes. There is that. I was under the impression the boy loathed you, Severus."
Snape smirked. "He did, my Lord, but it's really quite remarkable how readily teenagers confuse sex with-other things."
Harry closed his eyes. The black ugly thing inside him was waking up and wanted out, and Harry was shaking with the effort of keeping it under control.
He heard Voldemort let out a short bark of laughter. "You've been buggering the boy? Severus, really, you ought to have told me…but perhaps you were enjoying yourself overmuch, hm?"
Harry opened his eyes and saw a grimace of disgust pass over Snape's face. "Hardly, my Lord. I prefer my partners to have some idea what they're doing." He snorted. "Although I suppose he was rather-enthusiastic."
It was Voldemort's turn to snort. "The Boy Who Lived, whoring for a Death Eater. You could have kept me entertained all summer, Severus. I'm really quite disappointed."
Snape bent his head. "I apologize, my Lord."
"Mm," Voldemort said. "In any case, your punishment can wait. I've a boy to kill. You were explaining why I should kill him in his sleep."
Snape nodded. "He's powerful, my Lord, as I'm sure you're aware. He also tends to believe the rules of the universe do not apply to him, and has stumbled upon enough dumb luck in his life to reinforce that belief. It seems wise not to grant him the opportunity to do it again."
Voldemort was quiet for a while, and then he gave a brief nod. "Rise, then, and lead the way."
Snape stood smoothly and nodded towards the stairs. "Of course, my Lord. This way."
Voldemort nodded. Snape started up the stairs. Harry saw red.
It was a bit like being under water-everything seemed slow and murky and muffled. Harry was very vaguely aware of the thing inside him clawing its way out of his chest and engulfing them all. He was screaming, and Snape yelled something, and Voldemort dove back down the stairs, reaching for his wand. The castle was shaking around them, portraits crashing to the floor, and Harry thought he was floating again. There was red light above him, blue light below him, and he took the black thing inside him, all the rage and grief and pain, and threw it all at Voldemort. A loud explosion, the smell of smoke, a flash of green, and then Harry crashed to the ground and everything went black.
***
The first thing he thought when he woke up was that Snape must have set him on fire again. Every inch of his skin was throbbing painfully, and he was very hot. And there was a smell-oh. He rolled to his side and emptied his stomach, eyes firmly shut.
Someone pressed a glass of water to his lips and he drank gratefully before he stopped to wonder who it was and pushed it away. If it was him, Harry didn't want to know about it. He didn't even want to think about his name. He curled into the fetal position on the ground-he was outside, he noticed-and shook. He felt like one raw, exposed nerve ending, and he had a gaping hole inside him, jagged and black.
"Potter."
"Don't you say one fucking word to me," Harry whispered.
Silence. Maybe, Harry thought. But no. Again, "Potter."
Harry shivered and imagined himself flying at-him, closing his hands around that long neck and squeezing all his life away. "Why aren't you dead?"
"The spell was centered on Voldemort."
"Oh," Harry said, his voice dull. Strange to hear him say the name. "Is he dead, then?" Not that he particularly cared.
"…Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"You would be if he were not."
"Sorry," Harry muttered.
Another brief silence. "For?"
"For not dying."
A sigh. "Potter, what makes you think I wanted you dead?"
Pain be damned, Harry thought, and launched himself at the voice with a hoarse yell. His hands closed around Snape's throat and he tackled him to the ground. Snape didn't resist, and Harry sat on his chest, watching as his face went white and then red. "I heard you," he snarled. "I heard you and the-and Voldemort talking. I heard every fucking word you said. Severus," he hissed. He shook him, and a hysterical laugh tore out of his throat. "I stood there, you know? I stood there and listened and thought about it like you said. And look where that fucking got me." Snape's face was purple, and his eyes were bulging slightly out of his face. He opened his mouth and Harry squeezed tighter, felt Snape's pulse beneath his hands. Snape's legs started to jerk, and then Harry felt a wave of magic slam into him. He crashed to the ground a short distance away, and yelled as the pain tore through him.
He curled up in a ball and glared as Snape got to his feet and rubbed at his throat. Harry couldn't quite place the look on his face. He was wary, and angry, and something else. Harry didn't care. He turned his head and closed his eyes.
"Yes," Snape said, his voice rough. "Look where it got you. You are alive, are you not?"
Harry put his hands over his ears and curled up further. "No," he said. "You're not doing this. You're not going to do something awful and then tell me there are fifty-seven very good reasons that you did it and really, Potter, why didn't you figure that out. You're not. You betrayed me. You brought him here and told him where I was and said-god, you said-" He was mortified to hear his voice break.
"Ah, yes," Snape said. Harry could hear the sneer. "I disparaged your performance in the bedroom. A capital crime, surely."
"Don't," Harry whispered. The hole inside him was growing, and Harry could feel it starting to pulse.
"Why not? Oh, I'm sorry, Potter, did I hurt your feelings? Damage your fragile self-image? My apologies." Harry couldn't remember Snape ever sounding less sincere. He wrapped his arms around himself, as his hands clearly weren't doing any good over his ears.
"Why?" Harry asked, hating that his voice sounded so broken, hating Snape for doing this to him, reducing him to this.
"Why what? Why did I betray you?"
Harry's body jerked.
"Oh, yes," Snape went on, his voice like nails. "I betrayed you."
Harry's stomach turned, and he retched, convulsing in pain. He didn't know why every piece of him hurt.
Snape was still snarling at him. "After all, you heard me. I brought him here, told him where you were, called you nasty names, urged him to kill you. So you tell me, Potter. Why'd I do it? You are so very, very good at this sort of thing."
"I don't know," Harry mumbled, and then he stretched out slowly and turned over to look at Snape, standing above him with his arms folded. He looked positively murderous. Harry curled his lip. And then he knew.
"You had nothing to lose," he said slowly, realization dawning. "If he'd killed me, you'd be his right hand." He stood up, ignoring the pain, and advanced on Snape, who backed away. He was sneering, but Harry could see the wariness in his eyes. "If I killed him, you could do this." He gestured vaguely at Snape. "You could do the same fucking thing you've done all along, make me doubt it and second-guess myself and everything I know. Make me think you knew I'd win all along, that you had some kind of plan to save me."
Snape's sneer grew more pronounced. "My, I have been rubbing off on you."
Harry stared at Snape and felt a strange numbness seeping through his limbs. "There was never any plan, was there? You don't care about anything except yourself."
"As far as I'm aware, Potter, I've never claimed otherwise."
The strange numbness had settled over Harry like a blanket. He felt very calm, although the thing inside him was burning, devouring him whole. Harry thought he might just let it.
"Well, not this time, Snape. You're not getting away with it." His voice didn't sound anything like his voice. Harry reached for the darkness.
Snape must have seen it, must have heard it, must have realized it. His eyes narrowed and he started to shake his head. "Potter, don't do anything you'll regret."
Harry raised his wand. "I won't."
Snape stumbled backwards. "We should discuss this, Potter."
But Harry only had two words to say to Snape. "Avada kedavra."
##
next part
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Snape kidnaps rescues kidnaps Harry. Starring AmbiguouslyTrustworthy!Severus and ClinicallyDepressed!Harry.
Notes: I've been away from LJ for a few days and haven't been able to respond to most of your comments, but I swear I'm reading them and appreciating them all. I'll try to get back to everyone this weekend. This chapter owes much to aubrem, whom I tricked into betaing for me. She just doesn't know it yet. Also, OMG please don't kick my ass. There ARE two more chapters left. *hides* Previous chapters here.
---
Harry felt something dark and ugly coil in the center of himself as he watched. It felt like a living thing about to explode out of him, and he had to close his eyes and breathe deeply to rein it in even a little bit. He had to think. That was what Snape was always telling him, and he couldn't afford to just fly off the handle. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like.
He opened his eyes to see that Snape had shifted to one knee, and his arms were resting on the other one as he talked to Voldemort, who was standing at the foot of the stairs. Snape nodded, and Voldemort reached his long white fingers forwards to touch Snape's face. Harry shuddered but couldn't see Snape's reaction; they both had one side to Harry, and most of Snape's face was obscured by his long hair. It was suddenly very important for Harry to get close enough to hear what they were saying.
Harry threw a silencing charm at the door so he could slip through without it creaking, and he crept forwards slowly. His heart seemed to pounding in a rhythm that repeated maybemaybemaybe. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like. He moved a bit to the side, so he was approaching Voldemort's back, and could see Snape's face. The closer he got, the more his scar hurt, and he only hoped Voldemort couldn't sense his presence. Fortunately, he didn't have to go very far before he was close enough to make out their words.
"I don't know, Severus," Voldemort said, the cold voice settling like ice in Harry's veins. "You should have told me."
Snape bowed his head slightly. "Forgive me, my Lord," he said. Harry seethed. "I thought it best to be sure. With the spy, I didn't know who could be trusted."
"Hm…" Voldemort tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "Lucius thinks it's you, you know."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, my Lord? Well, I believe it's Lucius, making yet another clumsy attempt at keeping his options open." He made the last phrase sound slightly less appealing than eating Hippogriff manure. "I have delivered Potter, after all."
Harry's heart stuttered in his chest. Snape sounded fine. He didn't sound like he was under veritaserum, and Harry thought he knew Snape well enough that he'd be able to tell if he were under the Imperius. He didn't look like he'd been tortured. Harry's fist tightened around his wand and he bit his tongue. Maybe. Maybe.
"Have you? You are sure he's here?"
"Yes, my Lord," Snape said shortly.
"Why did you not bring him to me?"
The eyebrow arched slightly. Harry could tell it would have arched much higher if Snape had been talking to him instead of Voldemort. "My Lord, I thought the spy might try to intervene. I did not want to risk it."
Voldemort seemed unconvinced. "How long did you say you've had the boy, Severus?"
"All along, my Lord. I took him from the Muggles."
"And Dumbledore?"
"Is a doddering old fool who's got no idea where the brat is."
"I could deliver him the corpse of Harry Potter," Voldemort mused, a smile evident in his words.
Snape smiled back, rather nastily. "You could indeed, my Lord."
Harry saw the back of Voldemort's head move. "All right, Severus. Bring him to me."
Snape hesitated, his face blank. "He is sleeping, my Lord. It would probably be wiser for you to simply kill him as he does so."
"Oh?"
"Yes, my Lord. While the fool does trust me-"
"Ah, yes. There is that. I was under the impression the boy loathed you, Severus."
Snape smirked. "He did, my Lord, but it's really quite remarkable how readily teenagers confuse sex with-other things."
Harry closed his eyes. The black ugly thing inside him was waking up and wanted out, and Harry was shaking with the effort of keeping it under control.
He heard Voldemort let out a short bark of laughter. "You've been buggering the boy? Severus, really, you ought to have told me…but perhaps you were enjoying yourself overmuch, hm?"
Harry opened his eyes and saw a grimace of disgust pass over Snape's face. "Hardly, my Lord. I prefer my partners to have some idea what they're doing." He snorted. "Although I suppose he was rather-enthusiastic."
It was Voldemort's turn to snort. "The Boy Who Lived, whoring for a Death Eater. You could have kept me entertained all summer, Severus. I'm really quite disappointed."
Snape bent his head. "I apologize, my Lord."
"Mm," Voldemort said. "In any case, your punishment can wait. I've a boy to kill. You were explaining why I should kill him in his sleep."
Snape nodded. "He's powerful, my Lord, as I'm sure you're aware. He also tends to believe the rules of the universe do not apply to him, and has stumbled upon enough dumb luck in his life to reinforce that belief. It seems wise not to grant him the opportunity to do it again."
Voldemort was quiet for a while, and then he gave a brief nod. "Rise, then, and lead the way."
Snape stood smoothly and nodded towards the stairs. "Of course, my Lord. This way."
Voldemort nodded. Snape started up the stairs. Harry saw red.
It was a bit like being under water-everything seemed slow and murky and muffled. Harry was very vaguely aware of the thing inside him clawing its way out of his chest and engulfing them all. He was screaming, and Snape yelled something, and Voldemort dove back down the stairs, reaching for his wand. The castle was shaking around them, portraits crashing to the floor, and Harry thought he was floating again. There was red light above him, blue light below him, and he took the black thing inside him, all the rage and grief and pain, and threw it all at Voldemort. A loud explosion, the smell of smoke, a flash of green, and then Harry crashed to the ground and everything went black.
***
The first thing he thought when he woke up was that Snape must have set him on fire again. Every inch of his skin was throbbing painfully, and he was very hot. And there was a smell-oh. He rolled to his side and emptied his stomach, eyes firmly shut.
Someone pressed a glass of water to his lips and he drank gratefully before he stopped to wonder who it was and pushed it away. If it was him, Harry didn't want to know about it. He didn't even want to think about his name. He curled into the fetal position on the ground-he was outside, he noticed-and shook. He felt like one raw, exposed nerve ending, and he had a gaping hole inside him, jagged and black.
"Potter."
"Don't you say one fucking word to me," Harry whispered.
Silence. Maybe, Harry thought. But no. Again, "Potter."
Harry shivered and imagined himself flying at-him, closing his hands around that long neck and squeezing all his life away. "Why aren't you dead?"
"The spell was centered on Voldemort."
"Oh," Harry said, his voice dull. Strange to hear him say the name. "Is he dead, then?" Not that he particularly cared.
"…Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"You would be if he were not."
"Sorry," Harry muttered.
Another brief silence. "For?"
"For not dying."
A sigh. "Potter, what makes you think I wanted you dead?"
Pain be damned, Harry thought, and launched himself at the voice with a hoarse yell. His hands closed around Snape's throat and he tackled him to the ground. Snape didn't resist, and Harry sat on his chest, watching as his face went white and then red. "I heard you," he snarled. "I heard you and the-and Voldemort talking. I heard every fucking word you said. Severus," he hissed. He shook him, and a hysterical laugh tore out of his throat. "I stood there, you know? I stood there and listened and thought about it like you said. And look where that fucking got me." Snape's face was purple, and his eyes were bulging slightly out of his face. He opened his mouth and Harry squeezed tighter, felt Snape's pulse beneath his hands. Snape's legs started to jerk, and then Harry felt a wave of magic slam into him. He crashed to the ground a short distance away, and yelled as the pain tore through him.
He curled up in a ball and glared as Snape got to his feet and rubbed at his throat. Harry couldn't quite place the look on his face. He was wary, and angry, and something else. Harry didn't care. He turned his head and closed his eyes.
"Yes," Snape said, his voice rough. "Look where it got you. You are alive, are you not?"
Harry put his hands over his ears and curled up further. "No," he said. "You're not doing this. You're not going to do something awful and then tell me there are fifty-seven very good reasons that you did it and really, Potter, why didn't you figure that out. You're not. You betrayed me. You brought him here and told him where I was and said-god, you said-" He was mortified to hear his voice break.
"Ah, yes," Snape said. Harry could hear the sneer. "I disparaged your performance in the bedroom. A capital crime, surely."
"Don't," Harry whispered. The hole inside him was growing, and Harry could feel it starting to pulse.
"Why not? Oh, I'm sorry, Potter, did I hurt your feelings? Damage your fragile self-image? My apologies." Harry couldn't remember Snape ever sounding less sincere. He wrapped his arms around himself, as his hands clearly weren't doing any good over his ears.
"Why?" Harry asked, hating that his voice sounded so broken, hating Snape for doing this to him, reducing him to this.
"Why what? Why did I betray you?"
Harry's body jerked.
"Oh, yes," Snape went on, his voice like nails. "I betrayed you."
Harry's stomach turned, and he retched, convulsing in pain. He didn't know why every piece of him hurt.
Snape was still snarling at him. "After all, you heard me. I brought him here, told him where you were, called you nasty names, urged him to kill you. So you tell me, Potter. Why'd I do it? You are so very, very good at this sort of thing."
"I don't know," Harry mumbled, and then he stretched out slowly and turned over to look at Snape, standing above him with his arms folded. He looked positively murderous. Harry curled his lip. And then he knew.
"You had nothing to lose," he said slowly, realization dawning. "If he'd killed me, you'd be his right hand." He stood up, ignoring the pain, and advanced on Snape, who backed away. He was sneering, but Harry could see the wariness in his eyes. "If I killed him, you could do this." He gestured vaguely at Snape. "You could do the same fucking thing you've done all along, make me doubt it and second-guess myself and everything I know. Make me think you knew I'd win all along, that you had some kind of plan to save me."
Snape's sneer grew more pronounced. "My, I have been rubbing off on you."
Harry stared at Snape and felt a strange numbness seeping through his limbs. "There was never any plan, was there? You don't care about anything except yourself."
"As far as I'm aware, Potter, I've never claimed otherwise."
The strange numbness had settled over Harry like a blanket. He felt very calm, although the thing inside him was burning, devouring him whole. Harry thought he might just let it.
"Well, not this time, Snape. You're not getting away with it." His voice didn't sound anything like his voice. Harry reached for the darkness.
Snape must have seen it, must have heard it, must have realized it. His eyes narrowed and he started to shake his head. "Potter, don't do anything you'll regret."
Harry raised his wand. "I won't."
Snape stumbled backwards. "We should discuss this, Potter."
But Harry only had two words to say to Snape. "Avada kedavra."
##
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