Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

End of Obsession	By : Juwel Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 50501 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter fandom. The characters in this fiction are the property of J.K. Rowling. No money is being made from this and no trademark infringement is intended. This is purely for your reading pleasure.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
A/N: Thanks for all your comments! Trust me, still plenty of goodness to come. :-)

***

Severus appeared at the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place and immediately readied himself an opening charm, but found it wasn’t needed; the door was unlocked. He charged in, rushing up the stairs, the image burning in his mind of Potter with the letter opener raised in one hand, his exposed wrist in the other.

He reached Harry’s room and saw the movement, as Harry began bringing down his upraised hand with the letter opener; apparently the young man had hesitated, just barely long enough. “Expeliarmus!” Severus shouted, sending the deadly implement flying out of Harry’s hand. Ignoring the shocked look on Harry’s face, Severus took no chance that Harry might grab his wand to either hex himself or his old rival, and grabbed both of Harry’s hands, pulling him into a fierce embrace, shaking with the knowledge that he could have been too late.

“You!” Harry said, but he too was still lost in the depths of his own breakdown. “You—you—“ He repeated over and over, clutching at Severus, returning the embrace almost desperately, nearly hysterical. He looked at Severus in a mixture of shock and need, his words dissolving into sobs as emotion took him over, and Severus let go of Harry’s fists, just holding him tight as he broke down. Even when Harry began beating at Severus’s chest, sobbing so hard he could scarcely breathe, Severus held on, letting him cry, letting him release some of that terrible sadness. In the midst of it, Severus even allowed a few tears of his own to slip out. Throughout the tantrum, he said nothing, but pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead, chest burning with his own pain, past regrets.

Some time later—a half hour, an hour perhaps, Harry’s cries began to subside. He was still shivering hard, and Severus reached up a hand to brush back the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. “You’re dead,” Harry finally said, scrubbing at his face with a hand, reaching blindly for his glasses. Severus found them on the night table and held them out for Harry to take.

“Reports of my demise were rather exaggerated, though it was a near thing,” Severus answered in a low voice, as Harry put on his glasses, staring at him. Severus’s other hand was still around Harry’s waist, but he chose not to move it, even though he was painfully aware of his state of undress. The satin pyjamas seemed ridiculously inadequate next to his usual tight layers of clothing and robes, revealing more skin, more of himself than was comfortable.

“But I saw you—“ Harry began, and he didn’t move away either, to Severus’s mixed joy and discomfort. If there was a time for him to be turned away, this would be it.

“Yes—because you needed to, twit,” Severus said, more harshly than he intended. “I had to ensure that you would go to the Pensieve, and see what you needed to see.” He saw the anger in Harry’s eyes and reined himself in. “I did die. But the serum I took first prevented it from being a permanent death.”

Harry still seemed to be having a hard time taking it all in. “But . . . there was a memorial. Kingsley—“ Understanding dawned on his face.

“Kingsley found me, near death, after the battle. He took me to safety.”

The look of betrayal, of doubt on Harry’s face pierced through Severus. “He told everyone you were dead. Where have you been?”

Severus bowed his head. In light of the young man’s suffering, his own cowardice seemed cruel and unnecessary. “Recovering, at first. Then . . . hiding.” He looked into Harry’s eyes, forcing himself to face the truth, and the consequences of his actions. “I wanted no part of the accusations, the trials. I already faced it all once before. And let’s be honest. Most wizards hate me.” Double agent or not, he doubted that Minerva would ever forgive him for allowing the Callows to step foot into Hogwarts, even if he had tried to divert the worst of their punishments and protect the students. Even if Dumbledore had known it was all going to happen, and asked him to take that role. It was not hard to imagine that other wizards would take an even bleaker view of him.

Harry was quiet a moment, digesting that. “I would have spoken in your defence. I told them. I told everyone that you were working for Dumbledore all the time.” He looked down, in shame. “How you were protecting me.” He looked up, and there were fresh tears shining in his eyes.

Severus had no idea how to react to that, what to feel. It was dangerous to feel. To hope. He grasped for it anyways. “I will always protect you.”

Thankfully, Harry closed his eyes, relieving Severus from the strain of being this open, this vulnerable. The tears escaped, sliding down Harry’s cheek, and Severus was compelled to lean forward to kiss him gently on his brow, tasting his tears. Harry grabbed hold of him again, as if holding on for dear life. He rubbed his face against Severus’s neck, his shoulder, dampening the satin. “I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. There was that dangerous edge of despair in his voice again.

Severus swallowed past a burning lump in his throat, and glared at Dumbledore’s photograph, realising it was this photo that Harry had been speaking to, earlier. The arrogant old fool. He had prepared Harry his entire life to be ready to die. But he had never prepared the boy for the possibility of living after his destined task.

Combing his fingers through Harry’s hair, Severus tilted his head up, forcing Harry to look at him. “You live. You find a way through the pain, you find a new goal. But you can rest for a while, first. You don’t have to know everything right away.”

Harry shook his head, grimacing, his fingers digging into Severus’s arm. “Can’t. Tried. The papers . . . I’m so stupid . . .”

There had to have been some trigger for this evening, Severus knew. He grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair, knowing the pain would help the young man focus. “So you were an idiot. Tell me,” he coaxed, relaxing his hold once Harry seemed to get hold of himself again.

Harry hiccupped, tears still staining his cheeks. “They tricked me. I was trying to just to have a normal day. To be happy. I got a new owl,” he gestured towards the other end of the room, where Severus noted that there was indeed a new owl, one quarter the size of the old one but with a glare that looked twice as intimidating.

A look of anguish came over Harry’s face. “I ran into Rita Skeeter. I tried to avoid her, by ducking into a bar—Bender’s Bar.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m familiar with the place.”

Harry blinked, puzzled. Then he continued, “The bartender was nice. There were blokes kissing—each other.” He paused, and Severus detected the blush on his cheeks. A tremor went through Harry. “I found out that I’m bent.”

A surge of something—elation, dread—went through Severus at the news. “I thought you and that Weasley girl . . .” Severus said in a low voice.

Harry laughed harshly, without humour. “It never worked. I thought something was wrong with me.”

Again, Harry Potter had been robbed, of his chance at a normal adolescence, Severus thought with ire. It was small wonder he hadn’t known sooner. “Go on.”

Harry licked his lips, looking small and defeated. “A bloke came in—Quidditch player, so he said. I’d had a few drinks by then. He said—“ Harry blushed hard, squirming. “He said some things, and we left the place together. We were walking, and then he started kissing me.” Harry grimaced again, shaking his head. “And then she was there! Rita—there were cameras. It’ll be front page news tomorrow for sure.” He let out a sob, cursing, and Severus closed his eyes. Idiotic, indeed. The poor, foolish git.

“Bloody journalists,” Severus said under his breath, rubbing Harry’s back, trying to console him once more. Of all the worst luck—but then again, Harry was simply too young, and too naïve to understand how things worked outside the walls of Hogwarts. And now that Harry had mentioned it, Severus could detect the scent of firewhiskey on him. But Harry seemed anything but drunk at the moment.

“The press is going to butcher me. I was already a freak, but now . . .” Harry hid his face with his hands, rocking back and forth, inconsolable. He stopped and looked at Severus. “What do I do?”

Severus took a deep breath. For once, he wished he had Lucius’s skill at public image; unfortunately, it wasn’t particularly his strong suit. “The Slytherin thing would be to take a perceived weakness and turn it into a strength.” He frowned. “Or dispose of your adversary by any means necessary.” He sighed. “Given the circumstances, however . . . some tact will be required. I’ll have to think it over. You’ll need to confront it somehow—and soon. But I’ll have to consider what your best move would be.” Leave it to Harry Potter to immediately dig himself into another pile of shit after having just escaped one.

Harry nodded, noticeably calmer.

Severus continued. “Your advantage, of course, is that you still defeated the Dark Lord, and rescued the wizarding community from their own folly. They may have some leniency towards your proclivities, given that.” And Severus had to remind himself, there was also the fact that Harry shared the good looks and charm of his father, as well as the heart and kindness of his mother. There was very possibly a way he could use that to his advantage. “Perhaps the wizarding community needs to feel a little more comfortable with those who choose to lay with their own gender, and you can assist them with that perception.” Now that was an interesting thought.

With a shiver, Severus realised Harry was staring at him. “What do you mean by that? You’re not bent. I mean you—my mother—“

Severus shrugged, aware that he was going to take a very large leap in trust here, an enormous risk. “Not technically bent, no. Bisexual, in fact. But since the only woman I loved or will ever love is gone . . . the term ‘bent’ is close enough.” He held his breath, watching Harry’s reaction.

“Oh,” Harry said, blushing again, but he made no move to disentangle himself from Severus’s arms. He was half sitting on Severus’s lap, arms still wrapped around him, while Severus was half-lounged on the bed, one foot still on the floor. He seemed to notice his former teacher’s thin silky garments for the first time. In fact, Severus swore he could hear the wheels turning, as Harry looked him over.

This was getting dangerous. Severus tried to pull away.

“No,” Harry said with desperation in his voice, holding on tighter. “Don’t leave. Please.” He bit his lip in consternation. “Stay. I need you. I can’t . . .” He blinked several times. “I can’t be alone. Not right now.”

That was true, Severus conceded. And yet now that the tone of conversation was changing, his body was becoming aware of the proximity between him, still struggling from unfulfilled need from the afternoon, touching Draco without being touched in return. This was, after all, the stuff of countless fantasies from the past several weeks, having Harry in his arms looking submissive and weak. He swallowed past his desire, keeping a tight rein on it. “I’m not leaving.” It was his own submittal, to that which he both feared and wanted, to what perhaps was inevitable.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, resting against him, taking deep breaths. Severus couldn’t be certain, but it almost seemed as if he was rubbing up against him. Severus bit back a groan.

“I got your night shirt damp” Harry murmured, brushing at the tear spots at Severus’s collar.

Severus said nothing, not trusting himself to speak at the moment.

Harry looked at his face, looking pained. “You want to know the worst part of it? I’m still fucking horny.” He laughed bitterly. “You ever feel like your body has been asleep for a really long time, and then suddenly it wakes up?”

A shudder went through Severus. He was proud that he managed to keep his voice from shaking. “Yes. I do.”

“Professor,” Harry pleaded, a hand moving up Severus’s chest, not to hold him this time but exploring, feeling the tough muscles underneath.

Snarling, Severus grabbed his hand. “I’m not your professor any longer, Potter. I don’t consort with students.”

The look in Harry’s eyes was anything but innocent. He might even give Draco a run for his money, Severus thought, though his theme was more of a wounded submissive boy. “I’m not your student,” he stated, using his legs his time to bring himself closer, fighting to pull his wrist free. “Snape,” he added with emphasis, his face closing in, brushing his lips along the line of Severus’s throat.

This time, Severus did groan. But he also glared at Harry. “Severus,” he hissed, letting go of Harry’s hand so that he could do a little exploring of his own, sliding his hand up Harry’s midriff and chest. “If you’re going to play games like this with me, you will call me by my first name.” Harry was almost eighteen, after all. And Severus was twenty years his senior.

“Severus,” Harry said in a firm voice, arching into the touch.

At that point, Severus knew he was lost.
- 12
- 13
- 14
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

End of Obsession