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The Longest Road	By : WinterRaven Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 11234 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling and do not have the rights to Harry Potter. This story is written for fun. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
To the reader: This story takes place immediately after Dumbledore and Harry obtain the locket in HBP. Please note that in this story, there is no Dark Mark over the astronomy tower when Harry and Dumbledore arrive back at the castle. Snape is not and has never been, in love with Lily Evans and his motivations for joining Dumbledore are different. You'll find those out eventually!
EDIT on 9/3: A reviewer pointed out some plot inconsistencies in this chapter, so I've gone back and made a few tweaks. Enjoy. :)

One: The Prince, Revealed

They landed on the tower without grace, their bodies slamming to the ground. Harry rolled off of his broomstick with a painful knock into one of the astronomy tower's large telescopes; he felt skin break on his arm, the warm gush of blood spilling down his clothes. He felt a sharp crack in his side, perhaps a broken rib, but his pain was no matter. He could only focus on Dumbledore. The old man was slumped upright against a wall opposite him, his thin legs stiff, slowly slipping down from weakness. His eyes were closed and his breathing was as ragged and drawn as it had been after he had swallowed Voldemort's potion.
"Professor?" Harry gasped, scrambling to his feet at once. Harry gave a strong cough and felt warm fluid hurl from his mouth; he wiped the blood away from his lips, suddenly dizzy. How hard had he landed?
Dumbledore made no response except for a small groan. Harry was grateful to see he wasn't physically harmed, no cuts or blood or bruises, but the old man's eyes were shut tight, every whimper of breath a deep challenge for him. Harry gently grasped Dumbledore's blackened hand and gave him a small shake.
Piercing blue eyes opened a fraction of an inch, peering at Harry with concern.
"Severus," Dumbledore murmured.
Harry felt his heart skip. Was Dumbledore delirious again?
"Professor," the boy said, his voice just as low, "Professor, I'm Harry."
"I know," Dumbledore whispered, his eyes shutting as if steeling himself against a spasm. "Harry, go get Severus."
"But--"
"Please, Harry, he is the only one who can help."
Before he turned and sprinted from the tower, Harry sat Dumbledore so his back was supported against a curve in the wall. He put Dumbledore's wand into the man's weak hand and then rushed down the spiraling stairs of the tower, the sounds of his footsteps echoing like a cannon blast off the walls. He looked around wildly as he flew down the corridor, nearly slipping over himself multiple times. He turned and twisted at sharp corners, not knowing exactly where to go, his brain in overdrive.
The dungeons, he thought and with a renewed burst of speed that ravaged his lungs, he hopped full flights of stairs to arrive at the bottom floors of the castle. Harry saw Snape's closed office door at the end of the corridor and without thinking twice, he threw it wide open, so that it knocked against the adjacent wall with a loud bang.
Snape was seated at his desk facing the doorway and his response was so fast that Harry barely had time to see him draw his wand. The man was on his feet, looking oddly impressive in the din of the room, wand pointing directly at Harry's wide eyes. His desk had papers scattered about and opened texts littered nearby. Harry had never been more grateful to see Snape in his life.
He could barely speak. He was gasping and coughed up blood again. Snape did not move from behind his desk but he did lower his wand. When Harry looked back up, he saw the frustrating glare Snape always bestowed upon him: indifference coupled with a sneer.
"What is it, Potter?" he asked in a mocking tone, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry's ill form.
"Dum-D-Dumbledore," Harry rasped, clutching his chest. His face was bright red, his eyes pleading.
"What?" Snape whispered and he finally moved, stepping toward Harry swiftly as if he were gliding. His eyes found Harry's and for the briefest moment he took in Harry's cut appearance with an expression that may have been concern. And then it happened: their eye contact steadied and Harry let Snape break into his mind.
He was back on the island surrounded by the lake. The filthy stink of the dead, of salt water mixed with decaying flesh, bits of old skin flaking and floating innocently in the dark water... He was hunched over the basin, scooping deadly potion with a cup and tipping the liquid into Dumbledore's open mouth. Dumbledore's screaming, burned from the inside, wailing like a child being tortured. The shrieks echoed throughout the cavern like a grotesque song--
And the Legilimens stopped. For the first time, Harry saw fear flit in Snape's black, gleaming eyes.
"Where is he?" Snape said and when Harry didn't answer immediately, he grabbed the boy's arm with such ferocity that Harry's entire body trembled. "Potter! Focus! Where is he?"
"Astronomy tower," Harry gasped, staring up at Snape. "The tallest one."
Snape moved but before he was fully out of the door, he turned back to Harry and said, "If you have that infernal cloak with you, put it on now. Wait for us outside of Dumbledore's office. Do not be seen."
Harry obeyed, steadying himself first against the wall. He ignored the physical and emotional turmoil boiling within him and did as he was instructed. By the time he stood beside the stone gargoyle, he felt as if the cartilage of his kneecaps was flaying from his bones.
His head shot up when he heard the muffled sound of feet shuffling. Snape and Dumbledore approached. Snape was hoisting Dumbledore up with some struggle, Dumbledore's limp arm strung over Snape's shoulder.
"Where is Harry?" Dumbledore whispered after Snape uttered the password, revealing the rotating staircase.
"I'm right here," Harry said, peeling the cloak from himself.
Snape didn't have to say anything; Harry immediately shoved the cloak in his pant pocket and helped Snape heave Dumbledore up the stairs and into his throne-like chair. The portraits on the walls were silent, some still asleep, others staring at Dumbledore's appearance in shock. The rest of the room whirred with instruments, Fawkes looking at them sadly through his small eyes.
"I will return soon," Snape said. He flicked his wand; a massive jug of water and an empty goblet appeared on the desk in front of Dumbledore. Dumbledore had opened his eyes and sighed, giving Snape an inscrutable look that Harry had no hope of deciphering.
"Potter, give Dumbledore that water," Snape instructed and he left them in silence, his black robes billowing behind him as the office door slammed.
Harry, trembling all over, made to pour some water into the cup but Dumbledore seemed more alert now. He held up his healthy hand.
"I'll get it, Harry," he said and Harry was relieved to hear more strength in his voice. "You've been through enough tonight. Please, take a seat. Rest."
Dumbledore pointed to a chair behind Harry and he sank down into it without protest. Dumbledore proceeded to pour himself water and gulped it greedily as though he had never had a drink in his life. It was then that Harry caught sight of himself in the window glass opposite him; the night was so black and the office so bright that it was almost as if Harry were staring into a mirror. His face was whiter than paper, smudged at the lips with violently red blood, his glasses askew and hair messier then ever. He looked away, staring down at the locket he forgot he held.
It gleamed gold and fat and heavy and Harry opened it with a small click. He stared at the piece of paper folded neatly inside. He read the note in silence, seeing the signature at the bottom of it and Harry felt a swoop of nausea hit him. The thing he held wasn’t the real Horcrux.
He looked at Dumbledore in abject shock, wiping from his mind the reverberations of Dumbledore's screams at the lake...
Harry wanted to say something but the words were strangled. Snape came back into the office at the next moment; he glided to Dumbledore's desk, his robes now gone. He was, to Harry's mild surprise, wearing Muggle clothing, a black long sleeve shirt and pants. Perhaps the robes had become too cumbersome in his agitation. Snape was clutching two massive, smoking goblets in his large hands and waved his wand ove them, muttering something Harry didn't hear.
"Drink," Snape said tersely to Dumbledore. The old man didn't hesitate. He swallowed the mysterious potion in one shot.
"And the other one?" Dumbledore asked, looking over at the remaining goblet with polite curiosity; Snape's stern brow relaxed. It seemed he was also relieved that Dumbledore was using his full voice. Harry saw some of the color coming back to Dumbledore's lined face.
Snape's eyes flickered to Harry and he pushed the potion across the desk toward him without making eye contact again.
"Drink it, Potter."
"What is it?" Harry asked, staring down at the liquid; it was bright purple, shining like crystals made into water.
"It is a repairing potion," Snape responded curtly, standing to his full height now.
"But I don't--"
"Drink it!" Snape yelled. He was angry and exhausted and did not have the patience to argue.
Dumbledore sighed and Snape turned his back to them both, staring outside of the window, his thin arms crossed. Harry did not touch the potion; Dumbledore might trust Snape but Harry couldn't, wouldn't, not after everything that had transpired between them over the past six years. The fake Horcrux was clutched so tight in Harry's palm that he was certain the edges were cutting into his skin. He didn't care. He welcomed the pain.
Snape flicked his head around and, upon seeing that Harry had not touched the potion, gave Harry a look of disgust.
Without warning he pointed his wand over his shoulder directly at Harry's face. He murmured a spell and a soft, white light flowed toward Harry, enveloping the wounded areas of his body. The boy gave a yelp of surprise, almost dropping the locket; he felt the cut on his arm closing, the pain in his side subsiding, his rib repairing, the blood on his lips suddenly gone. He coughed again but no blood came up his throat this time. Snape had forced him to comply with him; Harry snarled at him but Snape spoke up quickly, ignoring Harry happily.
"What were you two doing tonight?" Snape asked Dumbledore, his back still to them both. He lowered his wand to his side. "What did you drink when you were at the lake?"
Harry couldn't help but suddenly want to grin at the sight of Dumbledore's soft smile; the vague amusement on the headmaster's face briefly transported Harry back to a more simple time, to safer moments.
"I see you've read Harry's mind," Dumbledore said, chuckling slightly but Snape was not smiling. He whipped around, pushing his long hair from his face. Harry had never seen him so angry. He cowered in his seat, worried that Snape may snap and start cursing everything into oblivion.
"This is the second time that I have come here and done this, Dumbledore," Snape whispered, his voice a hiss. His tone was so low that Harry had a difficult time hearing him. "You should have taken me alongside you but you took this boy instead, as if--"
"That's enough, Severus," Dumbledore responded. His voice was just as curt. He was no longer smiling. He stood from his seat, steady on his feet and moved around the desk toward Harry. "May I see the locket, Harry?"
Harry passed Dumbledore the fake Horcrux and glanced away from him immediately, as if burned, as if ashamed. Dumbledore examined it. So did Snape. Both of their faces held blank expressions.
"I see," Dumbledore finally whispered to himself. The note was unfurled in his blackened hand. It seemed that curiosity had gotten the best of Snape because the man hovered behind Dumbledore, peering over his shoulder at the letter. Harry had never realized how tall Snape was until that moment.
"R.A.B.?" Snape asked.
"I don't understand it any better than you do, Severus. Harry, what do you make of the letter?"
Both adults were staring at him; Snape scoffed, as if Dumbledore had made a bad joke in asking for Harry's opinion. Harry shook his head and said nothing. What else could he make of the note but failure? Dumbledore had drank that terrible potion, had nearly died for a false Horcrux and a useless letter--
"It seems we have more digging to do," Dumbledore said sadly. He placed the fake Horcrux down on his desk with a loud clunk. Snape cleared his throat.
"Why is that object important?" he asked sharply.
Harry made to speak but before he could finish drawing a breath, Snape scowled. His face was flushed with blotchy red spots, coloring his cheeks pink.
"Get him out of here!" Snape snarled, pointing at Harry. He was growing angrier by the moment. How could Dumbledore let that boy stay there, listening to them, as if the untalented brat were on equal footing with him, allowed to take in such privileged information?
"No, Severus," Dumbledore said. "There is no longer time left to keep secrets between each other. I will tell you what Harry and I did tonight because it is imperative that we take steps to move against Voldemort as quickly as possible. This locket," he grabbed it again and held it up so that it gleamed bright in the light of the room, "is a Horcrux."
Snape stilled and did not respond, his finger still raised absurdly in mid-air.
"Like the ring, the locket contained enchantments around it. Harry and I had to breach them." Dumbledore sighed, slinking the locket back down on his desk now, as if too mortified to look at it any longer. "But it is a fake."
Harry put his face in his hands.
"Meaning you are no closer to knowing where the true locket is," Snape hissed. Harry suddenly had an urge to punch Snape across the face; how could he be so mutinous in a moment like this?
"I have my theories on where the others may be," Dumbledore said calmly. "And I will develop theories on where the true locket is--"
"And undoubtedly you will not tell me!" Snape snarled. Harry glanced up to see Snape's black eyes glinting in fury. He seemed at his breaking point. "There can be countless more that you don't know of."
"But we do know," came Harry's soft voice.
"Oh?" said Snape, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His black eyes were slits. He seemed to be using every ounce of his self-control to stop himself from hurling insults, perhaps even curses.
"There are seven," Harry said with a rasp. He was surprised that he had spoken, as he hadn't made a conscious choice to do so. "At least we think there are seven. So far two have been destroyed."
"Indeed," Dumbledore cut in again before Snape could say anything in response to Harry. Snape sputtered. "Severus, we will need your help now that we know this Horcrux is a fake. Voldemort grows more powerful by the day and with your information and my research, we can form a counter attack against him soon."
Snape did not respond. Dumbledore seemed to take that as an agreement on Snape's part.
"Good. Now we are a team," Dumbledore whispered. He looked exhausted. "Severus, I must ask you to further investigate the matter which I asked you to look after."
Harry wondered what Dumbledore was talking about. The old man turned to Harry next.
"And Harry, go back to your common room. I want you to try to sleep. I want all of us to reconvene here tomorrow in the early morning. We have to formulate a new plan."
Harry did not protest. He rose from his seat as Snape moved silently to the door.
"Will you be okay, Professor?" Harry whispered to Dumbledore.
"Yes, I suspect I will." There was a pause. "Thank you, Harry, for coming with me tonight."
Harry could only nod, a lump in his throat. He and Snape left the office together, neither saying a word. When they emerged in the corridor, Harry dropped all pretenses and addressed Snape immediately.
"What is Malfoy up to?" Harry asked before Snape could walk away. "Before I left tonight with Dumbledore, I heard Malfoy celebrating something in the Room of Requirement. He was laughing--"
"Potter, your ego becomes more over-inflated as the days wear on," Snape hissed. "Just because Dumbledore grants you access to information that your little mind can't process, doesn't mean I will do the same--"
"Be quiet," Harry snarled. He stepped away from the wall and was inches away from Snape, glaring at him.
The memories from hours ago came flooding back into Harry's already overtaxed mind, washing over him like a violent ocean tide. Snape stared at him, his eyes shining with malice. Even in the dimness of the corridor, Harry knew there was venom locked in his irises. Harry felt his own rage rising within him and all he wanted was someone to deflect his anger on, a distraction from the horrible events at the cave. He pushed Draco from his concerns and with a daring recklessness, stepped forward even closer to Snape. Snape did not move, but looked down at Harry, haughty and angry. They were so close that Harry was lost in the tunnels that were Snape's eyes, dark and cold. He hears the slight wheeze of Snape's controlled breathing.
"I know what you did." Harry said, shaking. "I found out earlier. Trelawney told me about the prophecy, about how you overheard her. Professor Dumbledore confirmed her story, he mentioned that you told Voldemort everything."
Snape's had no reaction. This frustrated Harry further. He wanted to see pain, anguish.
"Dumbledore might have faith in you," the boy continued. "But I know what you really are."
"Go back to your dorm, Potter," Snape responded coldly, not taking his eyes away from Harry. "And do not ever mention that to me again or discuss things you couldn't possibly understand."
"Things I can't understand?" Harry repeated. He wanted nothing more than to curse Snape; he held the handle of his wand tight in his hand and red sparks sputtered from the tip against his will. "I understand very clearly. You hated my father, I'm sure you couldn't wait to get rid of him. Were you there when it happened? I'm sure you would have enjoyed watching him murdered--"
Harry's next words were drowned out by Snape's snarl.
For the second time that evening, he was captured in Snape's clutches. The man grasped both of Harry’s arms with terrible strength and slammed Harry so hard against a wall that he was temporarily winded. Harry struggled against him but his wand had dropped to the ground with a useless clatter. But he would not betray his sudden fear; he glared at Snape with the same coldness the man bestowed upon him. Harry felt his arms going numb. Snape's fingernails were digging into Harry's skin.
"Never again," Snape whispered incoherently. He looked deranged. Harry felt his hot breath on him. Snape's chest was pressed directly against Harry's; the boy could hardly breathe. "Never again, Potter."
He shook Harry violently so that his glasses slipped to the bridge of his nose.
"I am already being forced into working with you but if it were up to me, I would have you locked away for your insolence. Do not make matters worse for yourself."
He let go of Harry and threw him to the ground with so much force that Harry knew his sides would be bruised as a result.
"Get the hell out of my sight," Snape whispered.
Harry scrambled to his feet, grabbing his wand as he left and backed away from Snape, his eyes still on him. Only when he turned the corner of the corridor did he break into a run, the memory of Snape's disoriented gaze burned in his brain.
He returned to Gryffindor tower, shaking and exhausted and collapsed into one of the armchairs by the fire. He was grateful that the room was completely empty; he wondered where Ron and Hermione and Ginny were. They were safe though, he knew, because he had seen no sight of Malfoy after the strange incident in the Room of Requirement. The castle itself seemed normal in its evening silence... all normal except for what had happened to him. He thought of the Horcrux and Dumbledore's anguished yells and of Snape's rage, of his parents' last moments, wondering the whole way why it was that Dumbledore put his faith in a man so cold and cruel.

~*~
He barely slept and when he woke from his daze, Harry found himself slumped on the armchair in the common room hours later, his head lulling to the side. His neck was stiff and his body cold. Light broke through the sky and began to coat him in deep pink and red hues. Yawning, Harry went to the bathroom and took a long, steaming shower before sneaking back into his dorm. He dressed in silence. Ron and the others were fast asleep on their four posters, mouths hanging open, snoring and comfortable. Harry envied them, their normal lives, the fact that none of them had to worry about Horcruxes or hunting Voldemort or the great, terrible dangers that awaited him...
He did just as Dumbledore had instructed and soon Harry found himself outside of Dumbledore's office, smothered in the invisibility cloak. He made his way up the moving staircase and even from the bottom step, he heard voices. Snape and Dumbledore were arguing it seemed, agitated and loud. Harry threw the cloak off, tucked it into his back pocket and sprinted the remaining way up the stairs, not bothering to knock as he opened the door.
Both men stopped speaking immediately and turned to face him. Snape held the same enraged look from the night before; he threw Harry a disgusted glare but said nothing. He was still wearing the same clothing from the night before and there were dark, purple circles below his cold eyes. Dumbledore seemed more exhausted than ever. It seemed neither of them had slept.
"What happened?" Harry asked, closing the door behind him.
Dumbledore sighed, as if mulling over what he should say. Harry wondered in a panic if they were yelling about the Horcrux... Or perhaps Snape had told Dumbledore what had transpired between him and Harry the night before. But what Dumbledore said made Harry's insides go cold with shock.
"Draco Malfoy has been murdered," the old man announced. "He was killed late last night. He failed to carry out a plan that Voldemort had laid out for him."
"What? But how?" Harry sputtered in disbelief. "I heard Malfoy last night before I saw you, Professor. He was laughing in the Room of Requirement. It sounded like he was celebrating something!"
"Perhaps he was laughing, I do not know. The only facts I have are that Draco was summoned to Voldemort’s side not long after you heard him and Voldemort killed him," Dumbledore said sadly. He sat down in his chair, Snape standing to his right. Snape’s expression was blank.
"What plan did Voldemort want Draco to carry out?" Harry asked abruptly.
"He wanted young Draco to kill me," Dumbledore said baldly.
Harry would have laughed if the situation weren't so surprising. Malfoy, kill Dumbledore? The very thought seemed a joke, a set up. Voldemort must have known that Malfoy wouldn't succeed. Of course he wouldn't be able to do it. How, when Voldemort himself had failed to kill Dumbledore on multiple occasions?
"I asked Severus to keep an eye on Draco for me. Severus even went as far as to make an Unbreakable Vow to complete the task if Draco wasn't able to, but it seems Voldemort has grown impatient with his followers."
Snape made a convulsive movement next to Dumbledore, as if upset that the old man had told Harry this information. Harry purposefully avoided Snape's gaze. Harry was too floored to hear that Dumbledore would have let Snape kill him if the situation called for it. Harry's face betrayed his horror.
"As I said last night, Harry, we must be honest. I'm sorry if this information disturbs you," Dumbledore said. "Draco's death only confirms what I have stated before. We must form a team. Harry, from now on, you and I will continue our private lessons. We will brainstorm together about the remaining Horcruxes." Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus, I will be relying on you to train Harry in combat."
Harry felt the breath leave him; Snape seemed to have a similar reaction because his face contorted so horribly that he looked as though he were about to have a stroke.
"The reason why I called you both in this early is so that you can begin your lessons in the quiet of the morning. Right now it is five o'clock." Dumbledore glanced up at a large clock perched on one of his shelves. "The students won't wake for the next two hours. I suggest, Severus, that you work with Harry for an hour or so, focus on jinxes and--"
"But Professor, I already know these things," Harry cut in desperately. The thought of having to face Snape in private was repellent. "Fifth year, I practiced with the D.A. and--"
"I know, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "But you will be learning magic of a different caliber with Professor Snape."
Harry's mouth opened and closed stupidly. Dumbledore did not seem to have noticed.
"You must both act normally," Dumbledore reminded them. "You must both behave as if you do not know of Draco Malfoy's death. I will have to announce it to the school at breakfast." Dumbledore shook his head. "Such a tragedy, such violence and for what reason?"
He seemed to be asking himself the question more than Harry or Snape.
Dumbledore sighed and finished, "Please get going. Harry, I'd like you and Severus to work together every day from now on, unless I tell you otherwise. You two may choose if you want to work in the early morning or late into the evening. Whatever the time, you two must not be seen together. It will raise too much suspicion. I will send you a note once I have established a better theory on our locket. Until then, work hard."
Harry remained silent and with great trepidation, followed Snape down into the dark dungeons.
Snape walked into his office without holding the door open for Harry and it swung into his face. Harry staggered backward, swearing as he held his nose. When he forced himself to enter the dim room, Snape had his back to him. His hands were balled into fists.
"Wand out, Potter," he whispered and Harry gulped at the sound of gloating in Snape's voice.
Harry knew he was going to pay for what he said last night.
He had barely put his hand in his pocket before he found himself flying across the room; he fell over a table with a yell and it collapsed with his weight. Harry gasped, clutching his side; he felt the healed wound he sustained on the astronomy tower throbbing viciously, as if about to burst open again. He scrambled to his feet only to be knocked back down by a spell so strong that he couldn't muster the strength to stand again. He felt as though he were being held to the ground by ropes.
He was horrified to see Snape hovering over him. Snape's face was expressionless.
"Too slow," he whispered in a lazy way. "I'm amazed you have managed to escape the Dark Lord so many times with reflexes as pathetic as yours."
Harry swore at him and made to stand but Snape pointed his wand directly at his chest. Harry froze.
"What spell would you use against me in this situation?" the man asked, his eyes glinting.
But Harry could think of nothing magical; instead he had a vision of himself launching upward, his hands around Snape's throat, choking him--
"Levicorpus," Snape said in a bored voice and Harry was forced upward by the spell as if tethered by a hook. He knocked into a bookcase as he stumbled to find his balance. A heavy text fell from above and landed hard on Harry's head, making him dizzy. He found his wand and held it in shaking fingers. He could barely think.
But then, through the haze of pain, something disturbing occurred to Harry.
He had heard the Levicorpus spell before; he himself had used it once on Ron. Harry had read it in his potions textbook, the Half-Blood Prince's book, and he had never heard anyone else use it before. When Snape turned around it was to find Harry with a strange look on his face; the violence from moments before had been wiped away in shock.
"You," was all Harry said. His voice was trembling.
He remembered Snape's rage when he had performed Sectumsempra on Malfoy, remembered the look of knowing in Snape's eyes but he hadn't been able to connect the dots until now--
Snape raised his eyebrows, wand pointed at Harry.
"'You' is not a spell, stupid boy. I asked you what you would use against me in a situation--"
"You," Harry said again. He felt sick. "You're the Prince."
"What is this rubbish?" Snape responded; his eyes were glinting. "This is not the time for jokes Potter!"
"I'm not joking," Harry said feebly. His closed his eyes. He knew that he wasn’t making any sense to Snape but he spoke anyway. "That's why you were surprised when I had cursed Malfoy. Because you invented it and you never thought anybody would see that spell."
Harry opened his eyes again. Snape had frozen, mid-sentence.
"Potter--"
"You're the Half-Blood Prince."
The silence was absolute.
Of all the things that had happened to Harry in the last twenty-four hours, this realization was what shook him to the core. The revelation was far worse than going to the lake or forcing Dumbledore to drink that potion; it was more terrible than finding out that the Horcrux was a fake or that Malfoy had been murdered.
Harry felt disgust sweep over him. He had trusted the Prince. He had turned to him for help on so many occasions, proclaimed his goodness to Hermione, admired him, even began to view him as a friend...
Snape seemed to be thinking on the same lines of stunned disbelief. They stared at each other.
Harry knew only one thing: he had to get the away from Snape. At that moment, he didn't give a damn what Dumbledore wanted, couldn't care less that he had to train for combat. He never wanted to see Snape's face again. He turned and ran for the door but to his horror, he heard a lock click. Snape had magicked it closed.
"Let me out," Harry snarled.
Snape was too quick; he was standing next to Harry within moments, towering over him. He looked imposing and frightening in the dark of the office, with the reflection of pickled objects floating in shimmering liquids. His pale skin seemed luminous.
"How did you find the book?"
Snape's voice was even. Harry was breathing as though he had run a race.
"You can just read my mind for that, can't you?" he whispered angrily.
And Snape obliged him: disoriented images flashed past--
He was holding the battered textbook in Slughorn's class for the first time... Then he was defending the Prince while Hermione scowled at the book with dislike... He was receiving praise from Slughorn, the rest of the class glaring at him in jealousy as one of his potions frothed and bubbled beautifully.
Snape was pressed up against Harry again. Harry felt a thrill of dread as Snape's eyes locked onto his, not allowing Harry to let go of the gaze.
"I'm not surprised that you've taken someone else's credit in your classes, Potter. How very like your father you are, untrustworthy and lazy to the core. You will return the book back to me and you will do it at once."
Harry didn't know what to say; all he knew in that moment was Snape's body next to his, the man's labored breathing, as if he were trying to stop himself from doing much worse than speaking. Harry was dizzy. Snape's hands were extended against the wall, his arms trapping Harry. Then he did it again. Harry gasped--
He was sitting on his four-poster bed, late at night. The potions book was propped open and he was pouring over every single word with rapt attention, his eyes reading the written notes in the margins obsessively, his hands clutching the book in an almost erotic desperation. Then, another memory... He was sprinting to the Room of Requirement, scrambling to hide the Prince's potion textbook. Harry couldn't let it go, he needed the Prince--
"Touching," Snape murmured. There was something indecent about the way he spoke; his voice was a purr. Harry couldn't stop gazing at Snape.
"Get--get away," Harry sputtered feebly, but Snape pressed himself closer.
Harry trembled at the look of rage in Snape's eyes. To Harry's horror, he felt a familiar swooping sensation in his lower abdomen, and hardness that began to emerge, however reluctantly.
He had only been close to someone like this once before, and that was with Ginny, but even she—in all of her beauty—hadn't gotten him to shake head to foot. Harry tried to reason that his reaction was a combination of fear and confusion and exhaustion, that all his body was trying to do was distract him from the horrible events that had transpired in the past day. Harry tried to will away his burgeoning erection, but Snape had rubbed against him, his knee now between Harry's thighs, moving slowly, deliberately. The man’s eyes held no feeling but soaked in Harry’s appearance with a closed look. Harry groaned as pleasure he had never known shot through him. His head was tipped back against the wall.
Harry stopped caring that this was Snape, that he was dating Ginny, that this was disgusting and wrong and immoral. This was a wonderful distraction, this feeling, and blood rushing throughout his veins, hot and fiery. He didn't have to think, he only had to feel, focus on the throbbing in his groin. He bucked against Snape's leg and Snape rubbed him harder in response. He heard Snape's steady breathing, felt his own face flushed crimson.
"More," Harry gasped. He was desperate. The boy tried to control himself but he let out a piteous moan. Snape was coldly amused.
"How depraved," he whispered near Harry's ear and let go of Harry as quickly as he had forced himself against him. Harry almost fell down in shock.
"Get the book, Potter," Snape said, as if nothing had transpired between them. He moved to his desk casually and sat down, pulling out a stack of papers to grade.
Harry stared at him.
"You heard me," Snape whispered, not looking up at Harry.
The door next to Harry unlocked and swung open on its own. He sprinted out of the office and stopped at a deserted stairwell. His erection had disappeared and all he was left with was a hollow feeling of horror, his body trembling. He was terrified at going back into that office, in facing Snape again. Would he tell Dumbledore? Harry held his face in his hands, realizing that he would return to Snape even if he didn't have to. For better or worse, he was drawn to him.
Disgusted and confused, he trampled back up to the tower, and he tore through his trunk, not caring whether or not he woke anyone. Harry threw books and papers to the side until he came upon the potions textbook. His hands were shaking. In the bed next to him, Ron stirred.
"Harry?" came his friend's tired voice. Harry heard Ron yawn.
Harry did not respond. He stood up. Ron was sitting up now, confusion painting his freckled face.
"When did you get back?" Ron whispered, now alert, glancing at Harry with concern. "How did it go? Did you guys get--"
"I'll tell you later," was all Harry said and he left Ron staring at the doorway as he departed.
He held the textbook like a talisman against his chest, praying that he would have more control of himself in front of Snape this time. Harry stood outside of the office door for a few minutes. His face flushed, remembering the way Snape's leg had brushed in between his. Why, why did Snape do that? He took such great pleasure in tormenting Harry that the boy wondered how low Snape would go to cut him down. He stared at the office door, too many wild thoughts bounding through him--
He would have to break up with Ginny. But he couldn't bear the thought of telling her why. He would have to lie. Harry swore to himself not to mention any of this to Ron or Hermione. He could only imagine their horror at the thought of him having enjoyed what Snape did. Should he tell Dumbledore? He didn't know when he would see him again.
Harry wanted to scream but he mastered himself as he walked in again. Snape did not look up.
"Put the book on my desk and sit down," came his cold voice.
Harry obeyed and sat on the only empty chair in the room. He was now across from Snape. The man's hand was moving quickly across the pages of an essay, scribbling notes here and there. He was frowning. It took Snape another ten minutes to finish grading the paper, than he cleared his desk with a wave of his wand and dragged the potions textbook toward him. He stared at it and then glanced up at Harry.
The boy felt himself go rigid with embarrassment. Snape studied him closely.
"We will hold our lessons every evening at eleven," the man said without preamble; he was tracing his mouth with his pointer finger. Harry stared as he did it, following his lips. Snape noticed this but said nothing. "You will tell your friends that you are studying with Dumbledore, not me."
Harry didn't respond.
"Is that clear, Potter?"
Harry nodded.
“As for this book,” the man said, his voice low, “it is mine now. As it has always been. Understood?”
Harry nodded again.
"Now, get up," Snape whispered. He stood in tandem with Harry. His voice had dropped to a soft murmur. Harry's eyes fluttered. His brain froze. Snape stepped away from his desk and in front of Harry.
The boy gulped.
"You never answered my question," Snape said, boring into the boy's green eyes. "What spell would you have used on me earlier?"
"I--I don't know," Harry stammered. He glanced up at Snape's lips again. Snape was not amused.
"You don't know," he repeated. His eyes flashed.
Harry shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.
“You have quite a lot to learn, Potter,” Snape whispered, breathing into his ear. Harry let himself melt, following the voice like his life depended on it. “Lucky for you, I have much to teach.”
Snape broke away from Harry and pointed to the door.
“Your first official lesson begins tonight, Potter. Do not be late or you will face my… punishment.”
He put a strong emphasis on the last word, his voice like silk, commanding and luxurious. His eyes bored into Harry and the boy knew instantly that these lessons wouldn’t be the kind that Dumbledore had wanted him to learn.
Harry walked out without another word. He glanced down at his watch. It was only six o’clock in the morning. Underneath Harry’s terror, his heart skipped in anticipation and a smaller, sicker part of him couldn’t wait to see what punishment Snape had in store for him.

TBC

Note: I've done a lot of thinking about how Snape deals with the Unbreakable Vow now that Draco is dead. For the purposes of this story, the vow ceases to be viable when one of the parties dies. Because Draco is gone, Snape is no longer bound by the vow's contract. Hope this clears up that issue! Thanks for reading.
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The Longest Road