Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

One Thousand Days	By : Ataraxia Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 7793 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise and do not profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Recovery was painfully slow, and Severus was impatient. Months had passed since his embarrassing display of emotion regarding Lucius' death, and Severus had learned to harness his despair and convert it into determination. He used that energy to accomplish the difficult task of rebuilding his body, which was coming along rather nicely, if he did say so himself.

Although he was still thinner than he'd like, there was a healthy amount of lean muscle on his tall frame. The best part was that he was finally able to feed himself and get back and forth to the loo (as it turns out, he'd been right about that catheter removal; it had felt like Jean was trying to pull his bladder through his urethra).

The Grangers had been exceptional hosts and caregivers, and Severus had come to feel something akin to care for them. Grudgingly, he had even allowed them to use their barbaric Muggle practices to straighten and whiten his teeth.

Yet even with Jean's frequent company, Severus was lonely; he had few visitors these days.

Hermione came by once or twice a week to give him updates on her work with Godric's sword, which she was convinced would reveal the mystery behind the professor's lost magic if she could only find the right incantation.

Draco stopped by weekly, but something about the youth had changed and Severus found it to be incredibly unnerving. The boy he had always known to be sharp witted and content seemed distracted more often than not. Something was giving his eyes a strange, hollow look. It was not in Severus' nature to pry, but he often wondered what was happening in the young man’s life to make him behave so.   His knee-jerk response was to attribute it to the suicide of Lucius, but that didn't seem quite right, since Draco had seemed happy and content when Severus had first awoken. Something must have happened since then.

The pain of Lucius' death was no longer a sharp knife in Severus's stomach, but more like a small constant ache in his chest; uncomfortable, yes, but most days it was bearable. It seemed that now he was mourning the loss of someone else, though he steadfastly attempted to ignore the frequent pang of emptiness that resided within him.

Harry had not been to see him since “the incident”. The one time in the boy's life that he had actually listened to his professor and obeyed his orders, and it was the one time said professor didn't really mean it. Well, he had meant it at the time, and in the days following, but as the days stretched into weeks Severus couldn't help but admit to himself that his life had a new hollowness. Every day, he caught himself staring at the clock from six fifty-nine until just after seven, hoping to hear the sound of a young man haphazardly crashing out of the Floo.

It never came.

~*~*~

“Your ride's here.” Jean's eyes were filled with tears as she stood at the door of her patient's room “I'm going to miss you, Severus.”

Looking up from his seat by the window, the man snorted, “You'll just miss the stipend the Ministry's been providing you for putting up with me.”

“A pittance, really considering I've had to tolerate your surly face for so long.” She strode into the room and hugged the man, affectionately. With only a moment's hesitation, he returned the embrace.

“Thank you, Jean. For everything.” In a moment of alarm, he realized that he must have forgotten a sardonic witticism. Something must be truly wrong with him these days.

She pulled away with tears in her eyes and sniffled, “Well, you have to come visit us you foul thing. The Ministry has agreed to keep us on the Floo Network, even though you're leaving. I expect you for tea, and I shan't take no for an answer.”

Severus kissed his friend and caregiver on the cheek in an uncharacteristic display of tenderness. “Wouldn't dream of it, you meddlesome harpy.” With that, Severus gathered his few possessions and followed her out of the room to meet his gargantuan chauffeur.

“Professor Snape!” Hagrid gasped, picking the man up and mauling him into a bear hug. Severus could feel giant tears dripping off the louts face and onto the top of his head.

“Merlin, Hagrid, get a grip on yourself,” Severus gasped in disgust, attempting to wrench himself from a pair of inhumanly large arms.

The half-giant sheepishly placed the wizard on the floor. “Sorry, Professor, it's just that I haven't seen yer face in three years. I never thought I'd say this, but I might'a missed you. Kind of, anyway.”

Severus rolled his eyes “Had I been aware of time passing, perhaps I might have noticed your absence as well,” he grumbled, grudgingly. Severus gave Jean a final kiss goodbye and with a parting handshake to her husband, Walter, he stepped out of the Granger residence.

And froze.

“What is that doing here?”

Hagrid's motorbike, complete with sidecar, was parked in the lane outside the front door.

“Tha' is how we're getting back to Hogwarts!” the giant grinned proudly, tossing Severus a shiny black helmet.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger “Surely you jest,” he muttered into his hand.

“No, Sir! Since yeh can't travel by Floo, or by apparition, or any other kind of magical means, really, Muggle transport it is.”

Severus stared at the black helmet in his hands, his reflection sneering back at him through the high-gloss coating. “You are aware that there are various forms of Muggle transport, too, Hagrid? Trains come to mind. ”

The giant grinned “Yeh, but there's no legroom. So quit yer gripin' and in yeh get.”

Nine bloody hours he rode in that sidecar. His long limbs ached from being cramped up (legroom, indeed), although it was the indignity of having a hollowed out billiards-ball on his head that truly made him suffer. Hagrid had tried to keep up a running conversation during the trip, not realizing that both of their voices would be lost on the wind. In the end, Severus contented himself with watching the countryside roll by and allowing himself to get lost in his thoughts.

Returning to Hogwarts had been Minerva's idea, since Severus wasn't versed enough in Muggle affairs to be able to survive outside the Wizarding world. Thinking about his new life made him cringe. What use was he to the school? Even if he taught history or Latin or any other subject that didn't require practical magic skills, he would have no control over the students. Even the most magically inept student would have the upper hand on him, and it was a thought which made him shudder. Oh, gods, I'm going to be the next Argus Filch; chasing students around with a broom and having questionable relations with a cat.

Life would be difficult. He couldn't use anything that was made with magic, so robes and conjured food were out of the question. He was going to have to perfect his cooking skills, as he doubted he could get a pizza delivered to his quarters. Even if he could, he wasn’t sure he could admit his fondness for such common Muggle fare.

~*~*~

Severus’ dungeon door now opened with a large iron key, the magic password system having been removed for obvious reasons. The whole place felt dead, with not a single spark of magic to breathe life into it.

Taking stock of his surroundings, Severus winced as he noticed that boxes of matches were stacked on his desk, a reminder that he couldn't light his lamps with the normal flick of his wand. His shoulders slumped under the weight of his new reality. It was all utterly devastating.

McGonagall placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We'll find the answer, Severus. I promise. Hermione is a very clever girl. In the meantime, we've got systems in place to make sure you can get everything you need by non-magical means. The house elves will be preparing your food by hand, and laundering your linens non-magically.” She looked him up and down and pursed her lips, “I suppose we'll have to find appropriate robes for you as well.”

Severus turned to face the mirror above the fireplace. It had felt like an eternity since he had worn his old garments, but this foreign garb still felt wrong. Draco, who had a fetish for Muggle fashion, had picked out and purchased what few items of clothing Severus owned. Today he was dressed in a tailored, black two piece suit with a black dress shirt. Although the outfit was flattering, and of a suitable colour, it was fundamentally wrong. The man in the mirror frowned and fingered his sleeve “Not nearly enough buttons,” he muttered.

He broke eye contact with his reflection and searched the room for the liquor cabinet. “Please tell me you’ve stocked my room with some whisky...”

~*~*~

Harry’s glasses were pushed onto the top of his head to allow him to rub his eyes with reckless abandon. “It’s not like that, Hermione.”

“What’s it like then?” she asked, curiously

Trying to explain the nuances of his relationship with Draco was like trying to explain potion-making to a squirrel. It didn’t matter what words he chose, the true meaning would never really be conveyed properly, and then he’d have to question his sanity.

He never should have kissed Malfoy.

There was a time when Harry had been disgusted with the frequency in which Draco took lovers. The boy seemed to have no preference; male or female, wizard or Muggle, human or magical being. Draco Malfoy oozed raw sexuality from every pore, if he even had pores. That boy had an irritatingly perfect complexion.

Initially, Harry had thought that perhaps he was just a trophy that Draco was trying to collect, like he would get some kind of plaque that said “I shagged the Boy Who Lived”. Harry never acquiesced.   As time wore on, it became more and more obvious that the platinum blonde might be interested in more than Harry’s arse.

Sighing, the young man adjusted his glasses, “Look, he’s a good friend, one of my best mates by far. Yes, I find him incredibly attractive, but I just can’t... picture being with him.” Flushing, he corrected himself “Well, I mean, I can picture, you know... being with him, but not having a relationship with him, or anything.” Absently, he started picking at a piece of grass that was stuck in the hem of his shirt.

Hermione looked puzzled and disappointed “I don’t understand why, honestly, I know you care for him. You could be good together.”

He shot her a glare from behind his rectangular lenses, “I care for you, too, Hermione, that doesn’t mean I want to shag you or anything. No offense of course.”

They were lounging in Hermione’s sitting room, as they were wont to do in the evenings. Harry was stretched across her sofa, nursing a Butterbeer while his host had curled up in an adjacent armchair. She laughed and slapped his grubby arm fondly, “Neville would be relieved to hear that, I assure you.” Her honey brown eyes softened as she searched his face “I think you’d be good together, though, you and Draco. He really fancies you.”

Dark eyelashes fluttered as Harry closed his eyes “That’s the problem, ‘Mione. He loves me. It wouldn’t be fair for me to get involved with him knowing full well that I don’t, and won’t, love him back.”

“At least, not while you’re in love with someone else,” she said softly, her honey eyes locking on his.

Harry’s stomach dropped like it was full of stones. “I don’t love anyone,” he muttered, picking at the stray piece of grass again and successfully avoiding her gaze.

“Don’t lie to me, Potter, and don’t you dare start lying to yourself.” Her voice was firm, and she had called him by his surname. Not good.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, suddenly feeling like he was being psychoanalyzed. He was sure Hermione was going to turn into some bald Freudian caricature with a notepad and an Austrian accent any moment. He nearly smiled to himself at the thought. “Let’s change the topic now, shall we?” he begged.

Hermione, still very much a woman with a full head of hair, shook her head. “We’re not changing the topic, Harry. I can’t sit here and watch my best friends carry on in such a state. Draco loves you, and you can’t love him back because you’re still pining for someone else.” She leaned forward and clasped his hand dramatically. “He’s here you know. He arrived today.”

She didn’t have to say his name, they both knew the greasy dungeon bat to whom she referred.

Harry’s green eyes sparkled momentarily before darkening with anger and hurt. “He also told me he never wanted to see me again, and that I had ruined his life and killed everyone he loved. How fucking romantic is that?”

“He didn’t mean it,” she whispered

Harry stood up and fixed her with a cold stare “Then he shouldn’t have said it, should he? He certainly hasn’t come requesting I accept his apology.”

“You know he’s too proud for that, Harry. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care for you. He-” she stopped abruptly.

Harry caught the hesitation and looked at her keenly, “He what?”

“It’s nothing, Harry. Just something my mother mentioned. I shouldn’t say.” She bit her lip apprehensively.

“Don’t string me along, Granger, I don’t have the patience for it tonight,” Harry growled.

She sighed and stared at the floor. “He waited for you,” she mumbled.

“What? When?” His heart began to beat erratically, the traitorous four chambered vessel.

“Every day. He watched the clock every day, around seven, like he was waiting for something.” A pained look crossed her soft features. “My mother said she was sure he was waiting for you.” She watched as Harry’s face transitioned from an initial look of shock, to an unyielding stony expression.

His voice escaped his throat in a low growl, “I guess he’s going to be waiting a long time, isn’t he?”

~*~*~

It’s amazing what three years of not drinking does for one’s alcohol tolerance. Apparently, it completely obliterates it.

Severus stumbled his way down the halls of Hogwarts, trying to remember the way outside. “Hagrid!” he called down the stony hallways, “I want to go for a ride on your blasted motorbike!”. The gargoyle that had suddenly appeared in front of him shifted in and out of focus, making a variety of wretched faces at him.

“Don’t judge me!” Severus commanded the inanimate stone object “I’ve had wretched day.”

He stumbled, barely managing to catch himself before face-planting into the rough stone floor. He needed to get outside, where the ground would be more yielding should it decide to become acquainted with his face.

A cool breeze seemed to lure him in the right direction, and eventually he found himself standing outside the castle walls, bathed in moonlight. Severus wasn’t sure which way he was facing, and he couldn’t remember exactly where Hagrid’s house was at the moment either.

Cupping his pale hands around his mouth, he called into the night. “Haaa-ggrriiiddddd,” he slurred “I demand you take me on your motorbike! I will even wear that poncey helmet”. He giggled to himself and began to walk around the exterior of the castle.

Severus hadn’t really meant to drink as much as he did, admittedly; just a couple of fingers of whisky to take the edge off his mood. Unfortunately, his mood was foul to the extent that nearly a whole bottle had been required to take said edge off it. It was absolutely necessary, he assured himself.

After eons of walking, the dark haired man rounded a corner and saw a familiar hut in the distance. Or was that two huts? Severus frowned in confusion, then stared at his hands and started to count his fingers. There were ten of them (he had counted twice to make sure), but there were still two huts. It was perplexing, this alcohol; it muddled his building counting ability but left his finger counting ability fully intact. This Muggle elixir is a dangerous substance.

He hummed to himself as he made his way across the field to one of the modest cottages.   The air was incredibly intoxicating tonight; it smelled of earth, moss and rotten wood. Severus pointed his crooked nose in the air, allowing his nostrils to flare and take in more scent. It was familiar, somehow; comforting and arousing all at once.

Harry.

This is what Harry smelled like. Harry smelled like wet earth and moss and rotten wood. He smelled like a hard day’s work and soap and all manner of delicious manly things.   A memory of a strong hand, calloused from work, made him sigh longingly.

He really shouldn’t have fucked things up so badly.

As he lumbered along, the dewy grass made way to what looked like a small field. Rows and rows of carefully tended plants ran the length of the small plot of land. Perplexed, Severus dropped to his knees and ran the tender leaf of a sprout through his elegant fingers. Dittany? He looked across the tidy rows in amazement. Fluxweed, dandelion, goosegrass - they were all potions ingredients.

Severus stood and clumsily brushed off his knees, peering around himself in befuddlement.

Warm light seeped from the window in the cottage before him. Making his way over as stealthily as a man with his blood alcohol level could, he peered inside the building.

His breath caught in his throat.

A tall, well built young man was standing in the middle of the cottage, peering into a cauldron that sat on a roughly hewn table. His large, strong hands carefully stirred the contents of the vessel as he murmured something to himself.

It was Harry.

Severus’s heart suddenly took residence in his throat and the world around him spun just a little bit more than it had a moment ago. Harry looked beautiful. His thick black locks hung haphazardly in his face, the occasional strand covering his liquid green eyes. He was dressed in well fitting jeans and a snug cotton shirt of which he had pushed up the sleeves. The fire under his cauldron cast warm orange light onto his face, reflecting off the wetness of his lips.

He was gorgeous.

Severus held his breath as he watched Harry pick up a knife and finely slice the leaves of a plant, his hands moving in quick, graceful movements as he executed his cuts with perfection. Scooping up the pieces, Harry dropped them in the cauldron, smiling in satisfaction as the liquid emitted a light blue smoke.

The potions master gasped in astonishment; there was no way Harry Potter was capable of doing what he had just witnessed.

Drunkenly, he stumbled around to the front of the cottage and flung the door open.

“Wolfsbane?” he cried.

Surprised by the sudden intrusion, Harry cried out and stumbled backwards, his wand drawn. Recognition flickered over his face and his body language relaxed, but the young wizard’s face remained wary.

“What the hell are you doing here, Severus?” he demanded, angrily, “It’s damned near three in the morning!”

It wasn’t that late, was it? Severus considered it for a moment before turning his attention back to his former pupil. “I don’t know what time it is, but I know this must be a dream,” he slurred, “because there is no way in HELL Harry Potter could have suddenly become proficient in potions.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he observed the older man in his doorway. “You’re drunk,” he finally announced, flatly.

Severus laughed, a sound that would have probably been described as a giggle had it been formed by anyone else, but Severus Severus certainly did not giggle.

“No. Yes. Maybe. Doesn’t matter. What DOES matter is that I just saw you make Wolfsbane, and that’s a distinct impossibility. Nobody can brew that but me. Well, not anymore-” he garbled, “but I used to be able to, and you couldn’t. And now - what’s with all the plants, Potter?” His bloodshot eyes rested on the seedlings that Harry had sprouting on his windowsills.

“You should go to bed, Sir.” Harry said softly.

Weaving in place, Severus snapped his attention back on Harry, his bloodshot eyes roving his body approvingly. “Perhaps.” He lurched forward, a pale hand reaching for the young man in front of him. “Would you like to join me, Mister Potter?” he purred, suggestively.

Harry shrunk away from him in revulsion. “Are you fucking serious?” The incredulity in his voice was unmistakeable.

Severus nodded vigorously, “Quite, I assure you.” He smirked.

“This is coming from the same man who told me a couple weeks ago that he never wanted to see me again and that I should have let him die? That I ruined his life and killed everyone he loved?” Harry’s eyes blazed with anger.

“I still stand by that second part, I think.” Severus cocked his head to the side as if to consider what he had just said. “Maybe not. Maybe I didn’t mean that.” With unsteady steps, he continued to make his way across the hard earth floor.

Harry took another step backwards, his back against the wall. He regarded the drunk man coolly. “Get out of my house, Snape.” His large hand gripped his wand menacingly as Severus took a final step towards him, his hand raised to stroke his cheek.

“I want to kiss you, Harry. I want to make it all better.” His whisky-tainted breath was hot against Harry’s face, revolting and alluring all at once. “I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I was just mad because they were all dead. Everyone was dead. Lucius was dead, and Lily was dead. Lucius and Lily. Luily. Lucily? Lilius?” he rambled on quietly, his voice low and oily.

He stared into the boy’s deep green eyes hungrily, wetting his lips. Slowly, he closed the last few inches between them, his mouth fractions of an inch away from Harry’s as he murmured, “But you, Harry, you’d never understand, would you?”

A brief shock ran through his body as a strong fist connected with his jaw, and everything went black.

~*~*~

Harry arrived at Draco’s door looking utterly haggard and rubbing his right wrist.

The platinum blonde stared at him in disbelief, shaking his head as if to dislodge the fog of sleep from his brain.

“Harry, it’s 3am, what are you doing here? Are you okay?”

Harry’s eyes were on fire, his jaw clenched in determination, “Are you alone?” he asked, his voice thick.

Draco swallowed hard. “Well, yes-”

Harry lunged at him. “Then I’m just fine,” he growled, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him into a forceful kiss.

A/N Thank-you to symphonatika for the first beta of chapters 1&2, and to Methorael Raina for also beta reading 1&2, as well as chapter 3. MR is also the only reason this chapter is up; I wasn’t feeling confident enough to post it, but a little encouragement was all I needed. Thanks!
- 2
- 3
- 4
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

One Thousand Days