Might Have Been | By : Eeyore9990 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 2328 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
He jerked the sharp curved dagger from the sheath he’d built into the sleeve of his robes, running full tilt at the only thing that mattered to him right now. Voldemort. The self-proclaimed Dark Lord would truly know darkness after tonight. As he ran, he dodged curses left and right but was unable to duck the cutting hex Voldemort aimed at him. He felt pain slash across his face, laying his cheek open. Blood was dripping onto his robes, but he was too mindless with grief to notice.
He reached a laughing Voldemort in time to hear him sneer, “Aww, did I kill your little girlfriend? How unfortunate that she chose a Muggle-loving boy such as yourself.”
Through gnashing teeth, Harry said, “Pray now to whatever deity you believe in, Riddle. Your time here is through.” And with that, he plunged the blade into Voldemort’s chest, twisting it in a vicious circle until he was able to pull a chunk of flesh free. Digging his hand into that bleeding hole, he ripped Voldemort’s still-beating heart from his chest. Voldemort had barely a second to register his downfall before he slumped to the ground, dead.
Harry looked at the warm, dripping heart in his hands and began to rip it to shreds. As he tore it apart, he chanted a string of names, the ones who had fallen at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. “Mum, Dad, Cedric, Dumbledore, Neville, Justin, Seamus, Ginny…” As he said this last name, he began a shrieking laugh, rubbing the blood and gore into his arms and chest, bathing in the ruins of Voldemort.
He didn’t notice the Aurors surround him, nor did he pay any attention to the horrible sucking sensation of Apparation. His crazed state was only pricked when he noticed a mediwitch in a glaringly bright white uniform approaching him with wand drawn. “No!” he screamed, throwing himself to the side. Immediately, seemingly hundreds of pairs of hands were holding him down as magical restraints were placed upon him.
~*~
Severus Snape hurried down the creaking wooden staircase, careful of the various phials he carried; his wand was nearly forgotten where it rested inside the sleeve of his robes. Reaching the cold stone floor of the dungeons, his gaze flashed quickly over the bound form slumped motionless in his restraints.
Hearing quick footsteps on the stairs, Harry let his body relax, sagging against the iron manacles locked around his wrists. If Bellatrix was coming back, he had a few surprises in store for her….
Severus’ acute hearing picked up the sound of Harry’s laboured breathing. “It’s me, Potter,” he said, watching as Harry’s head came up and suspicious green eyes locked with his own. Attempting to forestall the accusations he knew were currently springing to the brunet’s tongue, Severus held up the healing and pain potions. “Madam Pomfrey inspected them moments ago. Unfortunately, there are several Aurors who needed her immediate attention. Would you like me to carry you to her or would you rather walk out of here on your own?”
Severus waited patiently, watching a myriad of expressions flickering over the tanned and scarred face of his former pupil. Today marked the two year anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat. This last nest of Death Eaters had been cleaned out by Aurors; death was the automatic sentence for any Death Eater since the mass break out from Azkaban. Harry had been the bait and they’d foolishly taken it. While Bellatrix Lestrange had been having her own brand of fun down here, Lucius Malfoy had been guarding the hideout against the Aurors and surviving Order members.
Severus’ musings were cut short when Harry tipped his head back, obviously having made the decision to trust him enough to take the potions. Severus held the pain potion to Harry’s chapped lips, tipping it up and watching as the brunet swallowed it down his long throat. He was fascinated with the play of muscle under the tanned skin, his eyes following the smooth line of Harry’s neck down to his broad, war-hardened chest. The shirt Harry had been wearing was torn to shreds, ripped apart by Bella’s whip. Severus offered the healing potion to Harry distractedly as his eyes roved over the red lash marks marring the muscular chest and taut abdomen. Several lashes had found their way around the tender, unprotected flesh of Harry’s ribcage, winding around under his arms. Severus let out a small sound and, unthinking, leaned down to lick along one such streak.
A sharply indrawn breath from Harry brought Severus back to himself. He straightened abruptly, avoiding Harry’s gaze as spots of colour appeared on his high cheekbones.
Harry was…astounded, speechless…shocked. He’d expected Severus to want to continue the torture Bellatrix had begun, not kiss his wounds better. An alien feeling churned in the pit of his stomach. He watched as Severus brought a long, thin hand to the place where his right wrist was imprisoned. He jerked his hand away moments before Severus could free him. “No.”
Severus’ shocked black gaze snapped to his. “Why not?” he asked, surprise colouring his tone.
Harry licked his dry lips, wincing a bit as his saliva burned the places where he’d bitten through the skin in an effort not to reward Bellatrix with his screams. “Because. Isn’t this how you want me? Tied up, awaiting your pleasure? When we leave here, this whole set up goes away. Do you think you’ll ever have this opportunity again? Look at me. I’m powerless against you.”
“You can’t want this,” Severus bit out, a humourless bark of laughter punctuating his words. “Besides, this is what I’ve been fighting against my entire adult life, the darker side of myself that finds this so…stimulating. It’s what Dumbledore warned me against…” His words trailed off at the pain that shot through Harry’s eyes at the mention of the man Snape had killed.
Harry closed his eyes, battling with himself. He’d spoken with Dumbledore about this, or rather, Dumbledore’s portrait. Dumbledore assured Harry that Snape had had no choice in killing him, that it had been pre-arranged to end this way. Harry had again destroyed the headmaster’s—well, headmistress’ now—office, furious at Dumbledore for again manipulating him and not giving him information he needed. Dumbledore had tried to soothe Harry, explaining that he needed to respond exactly the way he had. If Harry had known ahead of time, his reactions would have been off. And the Death Eaters were suspicious enough of Snape already.
Harry had stormed from Hogwarts that day never to return. The place he had grown to see as a sanctuary had in fact been a prison of lies and half-truths. But that would all stop here and now.
Harry locked gazes with Severus once again. “He was wrong, Severus. There is nothing wrong with you. We all have demons to battle within ourselves. Do you think it is wholesome of me to want you to lick all my wounds? To hang here while you drag your tongue over every inch of my body, delighting in the pleasure of painfully stimulating foreplay? Does that make me evil?”
Severus’ tongue felt swollen and thick inside his mouth. He couldn’t speak to answer Harry. His hands clenched and unclenched rapidly at his sides as he tried to bring his passion under control. Harry was a visual feast laid out and prepared specifically for him. Of its own volition, a trembling hand reached out and traced one finger down the line of Harry’s chest, following the path of a particularly vicious whiplash.
A hissing breath escaped Harry as he leaned into the finger, his body undulating sexily as the pale digit left his chest and trailed over his stomach, stopping at the fastening to his trousers.
“Merlin, S—“ Severus? Snape? Sir? He’d never allowed himself to truly contemplate this situation, hiding from himself even more than he hid from others. What was appropriate? And did he care?
Severus drew back his hand with a groan. “No, Harry. I won’t do this, not like this. When you get out of here, when you get back to your life, you won’t want this. And I refuse to torture myself with what might have been.”
Harry looked into Severus’ hooded eyes for several long moments before nodding his head in acceptance. He stood patiently while Severus unchained his wrists and ankles. When he was free, Harry quietly thanked Severus and walked to the stairs. Stopping abruptly, he looked at Severus and asked, “What about my might have been? How do I stop it from torturing me?”
Not receiving an answer from the stunned man, he turned and walked out of the basement.
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