Bonds of Water(6/20)
I didn't sleep at all tonight and boy am I completely and totally regretting it. I ache, all over, I feel nauseous, my eyes are burning, the snow has stopped, I'm shaking, or at least I think I am, and I've now started to drift in my seat. The best thing is, I have a class this morning. Yup! 9 o'clock in the frickin' morning on Friday and I have a class, and I want to cry. Can I cry? Wait, no heh did that yesterday afternoon, best not cry now.
Ugh.
But, I managed to get the next chapter up and edited. *is ded*
Title: Bonds of Water (6/20)
Author: faynia and stormypup
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: R
Word Count:
Genre: Romance, Flangst, Angst, Drama
Summary: Harry has never been entranced by music before now, but he is willing to do anything to learn how to play the same melody.
A/N: Beta'd by windout and topazmusings
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Sunday morning at breakfast, a school owl swooped down, landing on the table in front of Harry. Nearly knocking over his pumpkin juice, she dropped the note on his pancakes and he had to rescue it before it got soaked in syrup.
Scowling at the bird, Harry gave it a bit of bacon and opened the note.
You will come to my office at 7:00 for your first lesson. Do not be late!
S.S.
Harry's eyes flickered up to the staff table, but Snape wasn't there. There was a bit of disappointment at that, but he dismissed it. He folded the note and stuffed it into his jeans pocket, not missing the looks he got from his friends.
"Who sent you the letter, mate?" Ron asked as he and Hermione both leaned forward. "Was it...him?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, he wants me to meet him tonight."
"About time," Hermione said, sitting back on her seat. "I was worried."
"That what, he'd forget?" Harry snapped.
She blushed. "No."
"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said before Ron could hit him. "I've been on edge the last couple of days."
"No kidding," Ron muttered.
"You try having the whole castle out to get you," Harry said, still annoyed that it was taking him twice as long to get anywhere, and the portraits were always giving him disapproving looks. "You'd think the place was actually looking out for the git."
"Well, if you think about it, Snape has spent the majority of his life within these walls," Hermione pointed out. "He'd only been out of school a few years when he came back to teach," she reminded him.
"Still not fair," Harry grumbled, taking a grumpy bite of his pancakes.
*****
He really couldn't believe he was doing this. After a full day of anxious waiting, he was finally going to meet Snape. Half of him was worried he'd get chewed out for being such an idiotic child--which wouldn't be anything new, he had certainly heard it more than once that week--but the other half, the excited half, was bouncing about like a four-year-old getting his first puppy.
Harry knocked on the large door to Snape's office and waited, not sure if he was early or late.
The door opened and Harry cautiously stepped inside. Snape's head was bent over his desk, the red ink in his quill leaving blood red traces of disdain. Harry stood in front of the desk, waiting to be acknowledged, not wanting to start off on the wrong foot.
The minutes seemed to tick by as Harry stood there, watching Snape grade essays. Finally, he put the last one on the stack and only then did he look at Harry.
"Is it true I might go crazy?"
Harry's eyes widened as he realized that the words had come from him.
Snape upper lip curled into a sneer. "A question you should have asked before your little stunt," Snape said, pushing back from his desk. "Follow me."
They entered a room off to the side of Snape's office that Harry had never been in before, and from the looks of it, neither had anybody else in a very long time.
"What room is this?" he asked, looking at Snape curiously.
Snape didn't bother to answer as he crossed the room and picked up a violin and bow that looked like they had seen better days. He handed it to Harry and stood back, folding his arms across his chest. "Hold it."
Harry looked at the instrument in one hand and the bow in another. He had seen people playing one before on the telly and had some idea that he needed to place it under his chin, but he knew he'd look even more clueless than he did just standing there if he tried it. However, Snape was waiting and he couldn't just do nothing.
He hesitantly raised it to his chin and then paused, glancing at Snape with a pleading expression. He really had no idea how to situate the instrument beyond this.
"Er..."
"Er...what, Potter?"
"I don't know what to do," he admitted sheepishly, lowering the worn violin.
"At least you can admit you're an idiot," Snape replied, moving to his case and taking out his own instrument. If the boy had just started to play, making the strings screech with each movement, Snape would have tossed him out on his ear, damn the consequences.
"Observe," Snape said, holding the violin in the correct position. "Notice the placement of the instrument, the position of my elbow and the way my feet are placed." Harry nodded and tried to mimic the position. Snape set his violin carefully on the desk, and began repositioning Harry's body.
Harry allowed himself to be a poseable statue, moving with Snape, resting the instrument on his left shoulder and positioning it under his chin. It was awkward, but not uncomfortable. Snape straightened his left wrist and he locked it into place, earning a short nod for that effort. His elbow was then adjusted until it was just in his line of sight. All the while, Snape kept his hands on Harry's shoulder, preventing him from moving it up.
"Move your feet so more of your weight is on the left," Snape muttered, nudging at Harry's heels with the toe of his shoe.
"Like this?" he asked, hastily shifting his weight, while trying to keep his instrument in position.
"Good enough for now," Snape said, nodding in approval. "Now, take a moment to let your body grow accustomed to the position, feel it and internalize it. The position of your elbow in regards to the rest of your body. The balance of weight on your feet, the position of your shoulders..." He felt Harry's shoulders relax at the reminder.
"What about the bow?" Harry asked, barely moving his mouth, afraid it would shift things too much.
"Forget about the bow," Snape said, his voice low and soothing in Harry's ear. "Feel the way the violin sits in your hand, the angle of it, the way it sits under your chin. It must become an extension of yourself, or you will never truly master it."
Harry felt a shiver race through him and he couldn't explain why. His eyes drooped as he tried to do what Snape told him, but it was so hard with the man right behind him like this. This wasn't like Potions class, where Snape was breathing down his neck waiting for him to make a mistake so he could take points, this was just waiting for him to internalize his word.
He relaxed, trying to memorize without looking the way he was holding the violin, the weight of it against his shoulders and in his sweaty palms.
"How do I know when that happens?" Harry whispered.
"When you feel empty without it," Snape said softly. For most people, it was merely an instrument, but for Snape, it was part of his very soul. If Harry had any chance at all of learning the music Snape needed to teach him, it had to become the same for Harry.
"Relax now," he said, his voice brisk as Harry lowered the violin. "Again," he said, and Harry looked at him blankly for a moment.
"Oh," he said, positioning the violin under his chin once again. It didn't feel right, but he couldn't place what was wrong until Snape pushed down his shoulders.
"Align your elbow," he reminded, adjusting it to the left just a bit. "Now hold."
They repeated the exercise so many times, that Harry's arm was beginning to feel numb, and his chin felt sore, but he was improving. He had it right more often then not, but Snape wouldn't be satisfied until it was right every time.
When Harry was certain he'd drop the instrument, he refused to repeat the exercise. "Please, can we stop?"
Sighing, Snape nodded. Harry lay the violin gently down on the table before flopping into a chair. "This is more exhausting than Quidditch," he exhaled.
"And to think, this is nothing compared to what is come," Snape said, his voice like rich silk.
"Professor, I'm sorry I did this, I didn't understand what -"
"Silence!" Snape ordered. "This is a topic of which we will never speak again," Snape said, his voice cold with command.
Harry gulped and nodded. "Sorry, sir."
There was a pause, not an uncomfortable one, but it wasn't exactly a nice one either. Harry's mind played out various scenarios as to how this was going to work. He didn't just want the answers to all the questions he'd been accumulating, he needed them, and he got the feeling he'd be spending more time in the library this semester than usual. He rubbed his aching arm, wondering how on earth he was going to move it, let alone hold onto broom with it.
"Remove your shirt," Snape ordered briskly.
Harry shot off the stool. "What for?"
Snape looked to be counting to ten because when his eyes opened, they were calm again. "Your shirt, Potter." He held out his hand, waiting until Harry finally removed his shirt, a bit slower than usual. He handed it Snape.
"Now what?" Harry asked.
"Now sit down and hold still," Snape said, coming toward him with an almost predatory gleam in his eye that caused Harry to shiver. Even his prick noticed: it began stirring with interest, causing Harry to blush.
Snape had a bottle in his hand which he opened. He poured a small amount into the palm of his hand, then recapped it. He rubbed his hands together, warming the liquid inside of them, the smell of peppermint filling the air. Finally, when he reached Harry, he laid those hands on the young man's shoulder. He slid his palms down Harry's arms in alternating pressures as he massaged the oils into the arm.
Harry moaned at the affection he was receiving and moaned again for his groin that was in desperate need of a similar attention, but wasn't likely to receive it.
He whimpered pathetically when Snape removed his hands. He desperately needed relief now.
"May I go now, sir?"
Snape studied Harry carefully, looking for subterfuge, but he found nothing sinister in the boy's pleading look.
Snape waved him off. "Return tomorrow at the same time."
Harry nodded and snatched his shirt back, before jumping off the stool and hastily exiting the room. He buttoned up his shirt as he walked through the office, wanting to put as much distance between him and Snape as possible.
His erection was unrepentant in his jeans and he wanted to cry. Harry Potter did not get erections from smoldering Snape glares. It wasn't done! It hadn't happened before, so why now? He walked uncomfortably through the halls in the direction of the loo. He had to do something about this, before someone saw him because he was almost positive he'd die of embarrassment.
He found himself humming softly as he reached the bathroom and realized, much to his shock that he wasn’t humming; Snape was playing the violin again. The music was fast and full of dips and falls, like the beating heart. He stood still, just inside the door, letting the sound wash over him and then envelope him. Only this time, the feeling didn’t just stop at comfort. No, this music went straight to his heart and from there downwards. Pumping through his veins like a drug, making him numb except for one part of his body.
Harry gasped, his cheeks flushing as his cock pulsed in sympathy with the crescendoing music. He managed to stumble into one of the stalls and shut it behind him. His breath hitched in his throat as the music swirled around him and through his head. It had to be magic, there was no other explanation. He shoved his pants down with shaking hands and pulled his unyielding erection out of his briefs. He couldn’t remember being this hard in his life.
With three hard, quick strokes, he was coming, and low keening sound echoed around the bathroom, but he was unable to stop. It was almost painful; it seemed to go on forever, and he couldn't get enough.
*****
Ron and Hermione were up and waiting when Harry arrived back in his common room. He had the sudden fear that they both knew what he had done in the loo on the way back--he could feel his face heating up. There were a few stragglers in the common room who hadn't gone to bed, so Harry waved the two them to the chairs in a secluded corner.
"How was it?" Ron asked, leaning forward in his chair.
Hermione said nothing, and despite the darkened corner, he could swear that she was wringing her hands in her lap.
"It was alright. He didn't let me do anything but hold the violin," Harry said, shrugging. "Didn't play a note."
Ron glanced at Hermione. "He didn't hurt you or anything?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course not. In fact, he...look, he didn't hurt me."
Hermione was looking at him oddly, and Harry was very glad she never learned Legilimency.
"I'm going back tomorrow. Who knows, he may let me actually use the bow," Harry said, a bit sarcastically. "I'm tired, I'm going to bed. Night," he said, smiling weakly.
"Night," they both echoed, and Harry could hear them talking softly as he walked away.
As he crawled in to bed, he made a mental note to ask Snape to play for him tomorrow.
Next Chapter: Chapter Seven
Ugh.
But, I managed to get the next chapter up and edited. *is ded*
Title: Bonds of Water (6/20)
Author: faynia and stormypup
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: R
Word Count:
Genre: Romance, Flangst, Angst, Drama
Summary: Harry has never been entranced by music before now, but he is willing to do anything to learn how to play the same melody.
A/N: Beta'd by windout and topazmusings
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Sunday morning at breakfast, a school owl swooped down, landing on the table in front of Harry. Nearly knocking over his pumpkin juice, she dropped the note on his pancakes and he had to rescue it before it got soaked in syrup.
Scowling at the bird, Harry gave it a bit of bacon and opened the note.
You will come to my office at 7:00 for your first lesson. Do not be late!
S.S.
Harry's eyes flickered up to the staff table, but Snape wasn't there. There was a bit of disappointment at that, but he dismissed it. He folded the note and stuffed it into his jeans pocket, not missing the looks he got from his friends.
"Who sent you the letter, mate?" Ron asked as he and Hermione both leaned forward. "Was it...him?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, he wants me to meet him tonight."
"About time," Hermione said, sitting back on her seat. "I was worried."
"That what, he'd forget?" Harry snapped.
She blushed. "No."
"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said before Ron could hit him. "I've been on edge the last couple of days."
"No kidding," Ron muttered.
"You try having the whole castle out to get you," Harry said, still annoyed that it was taking him twice as long to get anywhere, and the portraits were always giving him disapproving looks. "You'd think the place was actually looking out for the git."
"Well, if you think about it, Snape has spent the majority of his life within these walls," Hermione pointed out. "He'd only been out of school a few years when he came back to teach," she reminded him.
"Still not fair," Harry grumbled, taking a grumpy bite of his pancakes.
*****
He really couldn't believe he was doing this. After a full day of anxious waiting, he was finally going to meet Snape. Half of him was worried he'd get chewed out for being such an idiotic child--which wouldn't be anything new, he had certainly heard it more than once that week--but the other half, the excited half, was bouncing about like a four-year-old getting his first puppy.
Harry knocked on the large door to Snape's office and waited, not sure if he was early or late.
The door opened and Harry cautiously stepped inside. Snape's head was bent over his desk, the red ink in his quill leaving blood red traces of disdain. Harry stood in front of the desk, waiting to be acknowledged, not wanting to start off on the wrong foot.
The minutes seemed to tick by as Harry stood there, watching Snape grade essays. Finally, he put the last one on the stack and only then did he look at Harry.
"Is it true I might go crazy?"
Harry's eyes widened as he realized that the words had come from him.
Snape upper lip curled into a sneer. "A question you should have asked before your little stunt," Snape said, pushing back from his desk. "Follow me."
They entered a room off to the side of Snape's office that Harry had never been in before, and from the looks of it, neither had anybody else in a very long time.
"What room is this?" he asked, looking at Snape curiously.
Snape didn't bother to answer as he crossed the room and picked up a violin and bow that looked like they had seen better days. He handed it to Harry and stood back, folding his arms across his chest. "Hold it."
Harry looked at the instrument in one hand and the bow in another. He had seen people playing one before on the telly and had some idea that he needed to place it under his chin, but he knew he'd look even more clueless than he did just standing there if he tried it. However, Snape was waiting and he couldn't just do nothing.
He hesitantly raised it to his chin and then paused, glancing at Snape with a pleading expression. He really had no idea how to situate the instrument beyond this.
"Er..."
"Er...what, Potter?"
"I don't know what to do," he admitted sheepishly, lowering the worn violin.
"At least you can admit you're an idiot," Snape replied, moving to his case and taking out his own instrument. If the boy had just started to play, making the strings screech with each movement, Snape would have tossed him out on his ear, damn the consequences.
"Observe," Snape said, holding the violin in the correct position. "Notice the placement of the instrument, the position of my elbow and the way my feet are placed." Harry nodded and tried to mimic the position. Snape set his violin carefully on the desk, and began repositioning Harry's body.
Harry allowed himself to be a poseable statue, moving with Snape, resting the instrument on his left shoulder and positioning it under his chin. It was awkward, but not uncomfortable. Snape straightened his left wrist and he locked it into place, earning a short nod for that effort. His elbow was then adjusted until it was just in his line of sight. All the while, Snape kept his hands on Harry's shoulder, preventing him from moving it up.
"Move your feet so more of your weight is on the left," Snape muttered, nudging at Harry's heels with the toe of his shoe.
"Like this?" he asked, hastily shifting his weight, while trying to keep his instrument in position.
"Good enough for now," Snape said, nodding in approval. "Now, take a moment to let your body grow accustomed to the position, feel it and internalize it. The position of your elbow in regards to the rest of your body. The balance of weight on your feet, the position of your shoulders..." He felt Harry's shoulders relax at the reminder.
"What about the bow?" Harry asked, barely moving his mouth, afraid it would shift things too much.
"Forget about the bow," Snape said, his voice low and soothing in Harry's ear. "Feel the way the violin sits in your hand, the angle of it, the way it sits under your chin. It must become an extension of yourself, or you will never truly master it."
Harry felt a shiver race through him and he couldn't explain why. His eyes drooped as he tried to do what Snape told him, but it was so hard with the man right behind him like this. This wasn't like Potions class, where Snape was breathing down his neck waiting for him to make a mistake so he could take points, this was just waiting for him to internalize his word.
He relaxed, trying to memorize without looking the way he was holding the violin, the weight of it against his shoulders and in his sweaty palms.
"How do I know when that happens?" Harry whispered.
"When you feel empty without it," Snape said softly. For most people, it was merely an instrument, but for Snape, it was part of his very soul. If Harry had any chance at all of learning the music Snape needed to teach him, it had to become the same for Harry.
"Relax now," he said, his voice brisk as Harry lowered the violin. "Again," he said, and Harry looked at him blankly for a moment.
"Oh," he said, positioning the violin under his chin once again. It didn't feel right, but he couldn't place what was wrong until Snape pushed down his shoulders.
"Align your elbow," he reminded, adjusting it to the left just a bit. "Now hold."
They repeated the exercise so many times, that Harry's arm was beginning to feel numb, and his chin felt sore, but he was improving. He had it right more often then not, but Snape wouldn't be satisfied until it was right every time.
When Harry was certain he'd drop the instrument, he refused to repeat the exercise. "Please, can we stop?"
Sighing, Snape nodded. Harry lay the violin gently down on the table before flopping into a chair. "This is more exhausting than Quidditch," he exhaled.
"And to think, this is nothing compared to what is come," Snape said, his voice like rich silk.
"Professor, I'm sorry I did this, I didn't understand what -"
"Silence!" Snape ordered. "This is a topic of which we will never speak again," Snape said, his voice cold with command.
Harry gulped and nodded. "Sorry, sir."
There was a pause, not an uncomfortable one, but it wasn't exactly a nice one either. Harry's mind played out various scenarios as to how this was going to work. He didn't just want the answers to all the questions he'd been accumulating, he needed them, and he got the feeling he'd be spending more time in the library this semester than usual. He rubbed his aching arm, wondering how on earth he was going to move it, let alone hold onto broom with it.
"Remove your shirt," Snape ordered briskly.
Harry shot off the stool. "What for?"
Snape looked to be counting to ten because when his eyes opened, they were calm again. "Your shirt, Potter." He held out his hand, waiting until Harry finally removed his shirt, a bit slower than usual. He handed it Snape.
"Now what?" Harry asked.
"Now sit down and hold still," Snape said, coming toward him with an almost predatory gleam in his eye that caused Harry to shiver. Even his prick noticed: it began stirring with interest, causing Harry to blush.
Snape had a bottle in his hand which he opened. He poured a small amount into the palm of his hand, then recapped it. He rubbed his hands together, warming the liquid inside of them, the smell of peppermint filling the air. Finally, when he reached Harry, he laid those hands on the young man's shoulder. He slid his palms down Harry's arms in alternating pressures as he massaged the oils into the arm.
Harry moaned at the affection he was receiving and moaned again for his groin that was in desperate need of a similar attention, but wasn't likely to receive it.
He whimpered pathetically when Snape removed his hands. He desperately needed relief now.
"May I go now, sir?"
Snape studied Harry carefully, looking for subterfuge, but he found nothing sinister in the boy's pleading look.
Snape waved him off. "Return tomorrow at the same time."
Harry nodded and snatched his shirt back, before jumping off the stool and hastily exiting the room. He buttoned up his shirt as he walked through the office, wanting to put as much distance between him and Snape as possible.
His erection was unrepentant in his jeans and he wanted to cry. Harry Potter did not get erections from smoldering Snape glares. It wasn't done! It hadn't happened before, so why now? He walked uncomfortably through the halls in the direction of the loo. He had to do something about this, before someone saw him because he was almost positive he'd die of embarrassment.
He found himself humming softly as he reached the bathroom and realized, much to his shock that he wasn’t humming; Snape was playing the violin again. The music was fast and full of dips and falls, like the beating heart. He stood still, just inside the door, letting the sound wash over him and then envelope him. Only this time, the feeling didn’t just stop at comfort. No, this music went straight to his heart and from there downwards. Pumping through his veins like a drug, making him numb except for one part of his body.
Harry gasped, his cheeks flushing as his cock pulsed in sympathy with the crescendoing music. He managed to stumble into one of the stalls and shut it behind him. His breath hitched in his throat as the music swirled around him and through his head. It had to be magic, there was no other explanation. He shoved his pants down with shaking hands and pulled his unyielding erection out of his briefs. He couldn’t remember being this hard in his life.
With three hard, quick strokes, he was coming, and low keening sound echoed around the bathroom, but he was unable to stop. It was almost painful; it seemed to go on forever, and he couldn't get enough.
*****
Ron and Hermione were up and waiting when Harry arrived back in his common room. He had the sudden fear that they both knew what he had done in the loo on the way back--he could feel his face heating up. There were a few stragglers in the common room who hadn't gone to bed, so Harry waved the two them to the chairs in a secluded corner.
"How was it?" Ron asked, leaning forward in his chair.
Hermione said nothing, and despite the darkened corner, he could swear that she was wringing her hands in her lap.
"It was alright. He didn't let me do anything but hold the violin," Harry said, shrugging. "Didn't play a note."
Ron glanced at Hermione. "He didn't hurt you or anything?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course not. In fact, he...look, he didn't hurt me."
Hermione was looking at him oddly, and Harry was very glad she never learned Legilimency.
"I'm going back tomorrow. Who knows, he may let me actually use the bow," Harry said, a bit sarcastically. "I'm tired, I'm going to bed. Night," he said, smiling weakly.
"Night," they both echoed, and Harry could hear them talking softly as he walked away.
As he crawled in to bed, he made a mental note to ask Snape to play for him tomorrow.
Next Chapter: Chapter Seven