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Morgaine\'s Thread	By : Escritora80 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 17363 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work.

Chapter List
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A/N: Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter (and for the reviews!). I'm hoping to post several chapters in the next few weeks, so there shouldn't be as long of a wait between chapter two and chapter three. Thanks again! ^_^

E/N: Hopefully, third time's the charm in regards to making the font easier to read. Let me know if it still needs to be bigger.

Chapter Two

Two days after the attack on Hogwarts and Voldemort's defeat found Harry in a private room in the hospital wing, curled up in a plush armchair at Snape's bedside as he waited for him to wake up. Snape had fallen into a magical coma after being struck by Voldemort's spell, a curse that Dumbledore referred to as the Chronos Curse. The majority of the spell's damage had occurred instantly, but Snape was still regaining his youth in tiny increments, first in days, then hours, and since the dawn of the second day, in minutes and seconds. Classes wouldn't start up again for another two days while Dumbledore oversaw repairs to the school, calmed panicky parents, and hired a new Potions teacher, so Harry spent most of his free time at Snape's side.

He'd brought his school bag with him, full of good intentions, but instead he was reading a copy of Witch Weekly that Hermione had given to him after discovering that it contained an article on Snape and how his sacrifice had saved Harry's life: The Man Who Saved The Saviour: An Exclusive Look Into The Life of Severus Snape. The article detailed every aspect of Snape's life, from his bleak childhood to his achievements at school and his talent for creating and modifying spells, to his heroic actions that led to Voldemort's second (and hopefully permanent) demise. Snape's job as Potions Master was glossed over as a cover for his recently exposed 'real life' as a thrill-seeking spy, sugarcoating his reign of terror in the classroom as commanding his students' respect, but overall the article depicted an accurate, if somewhat blurry, picture of who Snape was.

"You're in all the papers," Harry told an unconscious Snape with a wry grin, "and thanks to a very determined Colin Creevey, they're running photos of you in your hospital gown with your hair sticking out in every direction and drool on your chin. It's the best I've seen you looking in a long time ..."

He meant it, too. Though he'd come to love the old Snape, it was eye-opening to see how much regaining his youth had changed him, as if the Snape in that photograph in Harry's trunk had crawled out of the picture and into reality. Where his skin had once been sallow and lined, he now had the pale but smooth skin of a young man, untouched by the stresses that had haunted Snape later in life. His features were too sharp and angular to be considered handsome, and that hooked nose would stand out no matter how young or old Snape grew to be, but there was a power there, a noble mien that Harry could appreciate better now that Snape's face wasn't twisted into a scowl or a sneer. He had amazingly thick, dark lashes, and his lips, though thin, were an enticing shade of red, the only hint of colour to be found in an otherwise monochrome face. His hair was longer and hung around his face in a dark tangle, but a good washing by Madam Pomfrey had taken out the grease and grime. Harry couldn't wait for Snape to wake up; he knew just how magnetic those dark eyes could be -- they were Snape's best feature -- and he believed that they would be the key to turning an interesting face into an attractive one.

"How is our patient?" Dumbledore asked as he entered the room, interrupting Harry's Snape-gazing.

"The same." Harry tossed the copy of Witch Weekly onto a low table next to his chair. "He hasn't opened his eyes since I've been here. Were the Aurors able to learn anything more about the attack? How did the Death Eaters get into the castle?"

"I'm afraid we still have more questions than answers," Dumbledore said, as closemouthed as ever, but Harry wasn't about to let Dumbledore put him off with that you don't need to worry about this smile.

He recalled Snape's theory of an inside job. "Do you think someone at Hogwarts found a way to sneak them in?" Voldemort may have melted himself into a nasty puddle, but that didn't mean Harry was free of enemies. If there was a traitor at Hogwarts, Harry needed to know.

"Anything is possible," Dumbledore deftly sidestepped the question, just as determined as Harry to have the conversation go his way. "The Carrows are being interrogated at Azkaban, but I doubt they were included in the planning of the attack. Unfortunately, they were the only Death Eaters we were able to capture alive, and Bellatrix escaped us altogether. You are sure she was in the castle, Harry?"

"Yes, I saw her name on my map," Harry said, which made him think of something else he needed to ask Dumbledore. "My map ... did you find it?"

"We only found your cloak, Harry. There was no map."

I'm sure Snape must have had it, Harry thought, chewing on his thumbnail, or else how did he find me so quickly? That wasn't the only mystery Harry had to deal with: his questions to Ron about where he'd gone to after leading Harry on such a long chase were met with guilt and apologies, but no answers. Harry didn't care that Ron hadn't been there when Harry confronted Voldemort, in fact he was happy and relieved that his friend hadn't been in harm's way, but there was something in the furtive way Ron dodged his questions that troubled Harry.

Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room, a long, silver thermometer in her hand. "Pardon me, gentlemen, but I need to take one last measurement before I update my charts." She pulled down Snape's chin and placed the thermometer in his mouth, waiting until it turned a deep purple before removing it and holding it up to the light. "Hmm ... seventeen and three quarters. His age is holding steady now. He should be waking up in no time."

"She's been saying that all morning," Harry said after she'd left.

"Ah, well, it takes time for the body to recover after receiving the Chronos Curse."

"If the Chronos Curse reverts someone back to a younger version of themselves, why did Voldemort talk about watching my 'unbirth'? Could he really have made it so I was never born?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, the Chronos Curse reverts all things back to an earlier state of being, just as it did to Voldemort when it reverted him back to the ingredients of the ritual he used to restore his body. Think of it as taking an eraser to your own life -- whether you take away minutes or years, that time is gone for good, and with it all your memories from that time period. It's not a good spell to use on one's self as one can never be sure how powerful the spell will be -- you might take off five years or fifty, and anything you've accomplished or learned in those years is ripped out of your mind as if you never even gave it a thought. "

Harry looked down at Snape's face. Had Voldemort's spell wiped the past twenty years from Snape's mind as effortlessly as it had destroyed their bond? Harry couldn't help but mourn the loss of their connection, as forced as it had been, but the spell had also removed Snape's tattoo and the scars he'd been hiding for years. It was as if Snape had been given a clean slate in reward for his faithful service, and Harry couldn't begrudge him a second chance at a happy life. On the positive side, it did solve the problem of whether Harry should tell Dumbledore about the illegal spell he'd used, and he didn't have to worry about Snape's reaction to being forcibly bonded. Also, if Snape didn't remember how much he hated Harry, maybe that meant Harry could befriend him. He let his mind wander over the possibilities while Dumbledore droned on about the curse.

"They removed that spell from textbooks at the beginning of the century, but I'm not surprised that Voldemort added it to his repertoire. It is an incredibly effective spell when used as a weapon. Even if the victim survives, his minds has been crippled, knowledge lost and spells forgotten. He wakes to find family and friends older or passed on, perhaps a spouse he cannot recognise, or children he cannot recall being born. I do not envy Severus. He may have regained several years of his life, but he has lost much, much more."

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Harry said. As much as he'd grown to love Snape, he'd also discounted his life as being too miserable for words, a nightmare that he would surely prefer to forget, but very few people lived a life devoid of all happy moments. Everyone had good memories, even Snape.

"Our experiences are more precious than we can imagine. If we have not learned from the past, we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes." Dumbledore smiled as he looked at Snape's sleeping face. "However, in this particular case, I believe a brighter future lies ahead ..."

He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder before leaving the room to speak with Madam Pomfrey, and Harry was once again alone with Snape, content to listen to the sound of Snape's breathing as he closed his eyes and imagined the many ways he could share in that bright future. He became so lost in his musings that he didn't hear the slight hitch in Snape's snoring or the rustle of the bedsheets, never noticing that something had changed until he looked over at the bed and found it empty. He sat up straight in his chair and looked around the room, spotting Snape in a far corner, half-slouched in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the wall, his pale legs exposed by the shortness of the stark white hospital gown he wore.

Snape stared intently at his own reflection, puzzlement giving way to wonder, and he tentatively placed a hand on the mirror, as if he couldn't quite trust what he was seeing. Harry fully expected the confusion and disbelief he read in Snape's expression, but what he wasn't prepared for was the way Snape's mouth curved into a smile, or the laughter that bubbled out of his mouth as he examined himself in the mirror. Soft chuckles grew into one hearty belly-laugh, and Harry started to worry that Snape had lost his mind as well as his memories, but then the laughter abruptly ended and Snape glared at his reflection. He pulled his hand back from the mirror before slicing it through the air in a downward motion, sending a huge crack through the mirror's surface.

"Seven years bad luck!" the mirror admonished him, but a look from Snape silenced it.

"Bad luck is the only kind of luck I trust," Snape said, his voice slightly higher now but just as rich and velvety as Harry remembered it.

Surly attitude -- check, Harry thought, mentally cataloguing a list of Snape's better-known traits to see how much had been changed by the spell. A dull ache crept into his chest when Snape finally turned around and acknowledged his presence, studying Harry with an unreadable expression. Harry heaved himself out of the armchair, determined to make a good first impression with the 'new' Snape, but his bravery wilted under the scorching heat of the glare that Snape sent his way.

"Potter," he hissed, his hands clenching into fists.

What? Harry backed up a step, almost stumbling over the chair. How does he remember my name?

"Why are you here, Potter?" Snape spoke in a loud, exaggerated voice as he stalked across the room towards Harry. "Have you come to humiliate me even more? Haven't you and Black done enough?"

He thinks I'm my dad. Harry continued to back away, evading Snape's menacing approach until his back hit the wall and he could go no further. "Look, you have me confused for someone else ..."

"Oh, I'm far from confused," Snape said in a hushed voice, his anger replaced by quiet cunning, but then he switched back to his boisterous tirade, "I'm tired of letting you kick me around, Potter."

Harry slid along the wall in an attempt to get around Snape, but Snape blocked him by slamming his hand against the wall right by Harry's head. Harry swallowed hard, the ache in his chest deepening. "It's not me you're talking about ... you've got the wrong idea ..."

"Don't give me that innocent act," Snape shouted, then he leaned in close to Harry, his black eyes glittering with amusement, "I know what you did, Harry. I remember everything. Play along or I won't keep your dirty little secret."

Harry stopped trying to get away and stared blankly at Snape. "What?"

Snape huffed in exasperation and scratched his head, looking around the room, then at the door, and then back at Harry. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and pulled him away from the wall before pushing him down on the floor and straddling his hips.

"Make it look real," he whispered into Harry's ear, and then his hands were around Harry's throat and he was screaming at him at the top of his lungs, "I'm going to bloody kill you, Potter! I'll choke that smirk right off your face! I bet they'll give me a damn medal for getting rid of a bully like you!"

Harry was so bewildered by the whole situation that he couldn't do much more than lie there motionless while Snape pretended to strangle him. His cock had twitched happily when Snape straddled him, but his brain was too busy trying to sort out Snape's strange behaviour to truly appreciate the full-body contact. Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey burst into the room only seconds after Snape started screaming, and it took both of them to pull Snape off of Harry and drag him back to the bed where Madam Pomfrey conjured magical restraints to hold him at bay.

"Calm down, Profess-- err, Mr. Snape," Madame Pomfrey said, barely managing to check his vitals while coping with Snape's wild struggles to free himself. She looked over at Dumbledore. "Anger and confusion are common reactions upon waking for time-loss victims. A nice, healthy tantrum wouldn't harm him at this point, but I can give him a calming draught if you prefer."

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Poppy, that won't be necessary. I will explain everything to Severus. You should go back to your other patients."

Snape continued to growl and thrash as Madame Pomfrey left the room, but once the door clicked shut he relaxed his head against the pillow, completely serene as he gazed up at Dumbledore and Harry.

"That went rather well, despite Potter's poor acting," he said. His self-satisfied smile turned slightly malicious as he taunted Harry, "You might have at least pretended to fear for your life. If I hadn't turned in such a brilliant performance, Albus and Poppy might have mistaken our fight for something more risqué."

Harry's cheeks burned with embarrassment. He ticked off another trait from his list: Lives to humiliate me -- check.

Dumbledore shook off his surprise and narrowed his eyes at Snape. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Remove these restraints and I'll tell you," Snape said, holding up his wrists.

Dumbledore hesitated -- and not for a mere second or two, which Harry would have understood, but for a full minute of silent deliberation, pinning Snape with a stern gaze that would have caused most wizards' knees to knock. Snape just stared back at him, his expression giving nothing away. Finally, after a stretch of silence so painful that Harry completely forgot about the ache in his chest, Dumbledore took out his wand and banished the restraints.

"Explain," he ordered as he sat in Harry's chair. Harry, not wanting to bring any attention to himself, just stood awkwardly off to the side.

"I needed a reliable witness to my altered memory," Snape said as he sat up on the bed, rubbing at the fading red marks on his wrists. "In Poppy's professional opinion, I am a typical time-loss victim. Public interest will ensure that the extent of my injuries becomes a matter of record, both in print and by word of mouth, and no one will ever know -- outside of us three -- that I remember much, much more than I'm letting on."

"How did you manage to avoid losing your memories to the curse? And why bother to hide it at all?"

"The why is directly related to the how." Snape examined his tattoo-free arm as he spoke, running his fingers over the unmarked skin. "Potter's cloak played a part in protecting me, but I believe it was the bond that saved my memories. A bond strong enough to bring me back from death offers a greater protection than any magical artefact can provide."

"Bond? What bond?"

Harry thought about sneaking out of the room but Snape nailed him to the spot with a look.

"You didn't even tell Dumbledore?" he asked, incredulous.

Harry lowered his eyes when confronted by Dumbledore's penetrating gaze. He didn't regret what he'd done, far from it, but he did wish he had come clean about it before now. "They told me you wouldn't remember anything, and Voldemort's spell broke our bond, so ..."

"You're making this far too easy for me," Snape said softly, but he didn't expand on his cryptic words. Instead, he steered Dumbledore's attention away from Harry and back to himself. "As soon as the attack began, I sought out any Death Eater I could find. I knew that my ignorance of the Dark Lord's plans might mean my true loyalties had been revealed, but I was confident that I could get more information by capturing one of his followers. Imagine my surprise when I found myself confronted by the Dark Lord himself. He did not take my betrayal lightly, and he attacked me with one of his more creative curses."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, his expression turning thoughtful as he reconciled Snape's story with the evidence left behind that night. "That would explain the condition of your clothing, and the blood stains on the wall and the floor where we found your wand. So, Voldemort cursed you and left you to die. What happened then?"

"I died, of course," Snape said with a snort, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. He looked at Harry and added, "but not before Potter forced a bond on me in a foolish attempt to save my life."

"It worked, didn't it?" Harry shot back, more than a little peeved that Snape spoke about it so dismissively.

"You could have died, stupid boy."

Dumbledore broke up their fight with a wave of his hand. He didn't seem convinced that any bond Harry used would have been strong enough to protect Snape from either of Voldemort's spells. "Forced bonds are weaker than consensual bonds by the very nature of their creation, and there are only three bonds in existence that are so powerful that they can bind one life-span to another. Two of those bonds require consent from both participants, and the third ..." He trailed off into a stricken silence.

"And now we get to the why," Snape said.

Dumbledore stood up and began pacing back and forth across the room, his hands clasped behind his back. "If the wizarding world knew you'd retained your memories in the face of the Chronos Curse, everyone would want to know how you managed it. There would be an investigation, interrogations ..."

"Potter didn't seem to realise the enormity of his actions when he formed the bond, but you do. This would ruin him. No one would care that he did it to save my life -- anyone convicted of casting Morgaine's Thread is punished with a minimum sentence of life in Azkaban, no exceptions. I'm at a loss as to where Potter came across the spell as it's hardly part of the curriculum here, but now that he has gone and dabbled in the darkest magic he could find, I suggest you salvage his future while you still can."

Dumbledore didn't miss the subtle choice of Snape saying 'you' instead of 'we.' He paused in his pacing, watching Snape with a return of that cautious tension, as if he couldn't decide whose side Snape was on anymore. "The bond has been destroyed by Voldemort's spell, just as Harry said. What evidence would the Ministry have to convict Harry on?"

Snape smirked. "I'm all the evidence they would need. I recall with crystal-clear detail everything that happened that night. And, if that wasn't enough to convince them ..." He got off the bed and walked over to Harry, grabbing his right wrist and turning his hand so that his palm faced upward. He let go of Harry only long enough to conjure a pin and prick his own finger, then he took hold of Harry's hand again and squeezed out a drop of his blood onto Harry's palm. As soon as that red drop struck Harry's skin, it spread across his palm in delicate curves and swirls, forming a replica of the same symbol Harry had carved there two nights ago.

"Morgaine's Thread leaves a scar that never goes away," Snape murmured, capturing Harry's gaze for one breathless moment before he turned back to Dumbledore. "I hold Potter's fate in my hands. Do we agree?"

"It would appear so," Dumbledore said. He sounded more curious than angry as he conceded Snape's position of power, though he continued to regard Snape with a wary frown. "How do you plan to proceed?"

Snape stroked his thumb over Harry's wrist before releasing his hand. It was such a brief caress that Harry chalked it up to being a hallucination born of wishful thinking. He rubbed his palm on his trousers to get rid of the bloody mark.

"I'm willing to keep up the pretence that my memories have been erased, but I won't be your puppet anymore, Albus," Snape said. "My strings are cut from this day forward."

Dumbledore's frown now bordered on a scowl, but he gave a short nod in agreement. "Your life is your own, Severus. I guarantee that I will not interfere in your future."

Snape straightened up as if a crushing burden had just been lifted from his back. His triumphant expression, though somewhat smug, brightened his entire face, bringing a healthy glow to his pale skin. Harry found himself admiring the red curve of Snape's lower lip.

"I have other conditions," Snape carried on confidently, his first victory giving him momentum, "but I won't discuss them in front of Potter."

Harry tore his gaze away from Snape's mouth to glare at him. "Why do I have to leave?"

"Run along, Potter. The grown-ups need to have a talk."

"We're the same age now!"

"Physically, yes, but emotionally you're still in your infancy."

"This from a man who gets his jollies terrorizing eleven-year-olds."

"Enough!" Dumbledore flicked his wand at the door and it swung open. "Leave, Harry. I will inform you of your punishment later."

Snape smirked, giving a condescending little wave as Harry left the room.

So much for a fresh start, Harry thought.
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