Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Bound by Blood (and Faith)	By : wlkellogg Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 20386 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
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Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3

A/N: Nothing really shocking in this chapter.

Love my beta! (Thanks for putting up w/ me, Jags!)

Today. (Tuesday)

Harry heard a crash from the direction of the kitchen and pulled himself up off the floor, even though it felt like one of Hercules' challenges to do so. Putting one foot in front of the other, he slowly dragged himself out of his bedroom. Hermione stood by his trashcan, wiping her hands on one of his hand towels. She looked up when he came in and relief washed over her face. “Oh, thank Merlin you're okay, Harry. Ron and I have been trying to get a hold of you for ages!”

Harry forced a weak smile. “Well, I've been right here, safe and sound.”

“Right. Whatever you say. Come on. We need to get back to the castle. There's been an accident. I heard that one of the teachers was hurt!” Harry's gut clenched at Hermione's words and he grabbed his overcoat from the back of the chair where he'd dropped it on the way in. “You know, it's not a good idea to leave spoiled potions laying anywhere. Some of them have bad side effects if you drink them after they've turned.”

Harry didn't bother answering. He just held out a hand to Hermione, shaking it a little to let her know that he was more than ready to go and waiting on her to apparate. She took it with a sigh and they left the kitchen with a sharp crack.

It seemed to take forever to get into the Great Hall. Everyone was crowding around the entrance, waiting for the line to move so that they could find out what was going on. Harry ground his teeth together in frustration. This was taking too long. Why did the first years have to stop right in the middle of the doorway? Little twits... Finally, the line moved enough for Harry, Ron, who had met them in the hallway, and Hermione to get inside. They filed along the side of the room, unable to actually make it to the Gryffindor table.

Professor McGonagall stood at the head table, waiting for everyone to get into the Great Hall before making her announcement. Harry strained to see which teachers were standing behind the Head of Gryffindor. He couldn't see Snape, but there were a lot of kids crowding him and making it hard to get an accurate count. Part of him wanted to climb a wall, but he held himself back. He didn't want to seem too curious as to who had been injured. Finally, there were enough students inside the room to warrant the announcement. “Attention, students. You have all been called here to inform you that due to a situation here in the castle, you will all be required to travel in groups of five or more at all times. Curfews are to be strictly observed, no exceptions.” Why she looked at Harry when she said that, he couldn't imagine. “And all first years are to be accompanied by a prefect when traveling between classes. If you are not in class, you are to remain in your common rooms. Thank you for your help and cooperation. Please remember that these rules are in place to protect you and your friends. Please disperse to your common rooms at this time.”

Ron, and Harry looked at each other, each thinking close to the same thing. There was no way they would be staying patiently in the common room without knowing exactly what was going on. Hermione looked at them and opened her mouth to insist they come with her to the tower immediately, but McGonagall's appearance stopped her. “Mr. Potter, you will come with me. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, you will help lead the younger students back to the tower immediately.”

Harry was stunned, but he followed with a backward glance to his friends as he wove through the crush of students all trying to leave the Great Hall at the same time. McGonagall didn't look at him until they were out of the Hall and most of the way to the infirmary. It took Harry that long to realize where they were headed. He was just opening his mouth to ask what was going on when Professor McGonagall turned to him sharply. “Mr. Potter, I highly recommend you hold all comments until after we reach our destination. It will be in your best interest.”

Swallowing hard, Harry nodded. He had the distinct feeling that he was in serious trouble, but couldn't think of anything he had done wrong recently. He used the rest of the walk to review his actions of the past month, searching for something that would make the Transfiguration professor this angry with him. She pulled the door open and stood back, waiting for him to precede her into the infirmary After he walked in, she closed the door behind him, staying outside with her wand drawn. He looked at the door, curious, for a long moment. When he turned around, he saw an angry Dumbledore waiting for him with arms crossed over his chest. Harry found himself revisiting his previous mental search for what he had done wrong and still coming up empty.

“Harry, my boy. What have you done?” Dumbledore's voice was full of something that felt like condemnation, and Harry felt his shoulders slump a little.

“I- I honestly have no idea, Professor. I'm sorry...” he responded honestly.

“I wish I could believe you, Harry, I really wish I could. You mean to tell me that you have no idea whatsoever what could have done this?” Dumbledore asked, stepping away from the bed he had been standing in front of, giving Harry his first view of Snape on the bed. He looked very much like death had paid him a little visit. Harry was overcome by a wave of nausea and very nearly lost it right then and there. As it was, Madam Pomfrey barely managed to get him out of the room before he emptied his stomach all over the floor. When he had control of himself again, he returned slowly to the room, still shaking badly. “Harry? Are you alright?”

Harry's eyes were glued to the stricken Potions Master as he nodded dumbly. “I'm okay. What happened to him?”

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. “We were hoping you could tell us. The only thing he's been able to say is your name. Do you have any idea at all why that might be?”

Harry shook his head, eyes still glued to the still form of the man he loved secretly. His mind was numb and his heart raced. Dumbledore gestured for Harry to move closer. “Don't worry, lad. I doubt you'll hurt him if you come a little closer.”

Timid step after timid step brought Harry over to Snape's bedside. Without him being aware of it, his hand moved over to gently touch Snape's arm. A familiar ache started up in his stomach and his breath caught in his throat. Dumbledore nodded to Madame Pomfrey, “You can go now, Poppy. I'll stay with them. I know you have much work to do to help Severus.”

“Of course, Albus. Let me know if there are any changes,” Madame Pomfrey said quietly. Dumbledore nodded and gestured toward the door. He turned his attention back to Harry and Snape. Harry had moved to sit beside Snape, cautiously taking Snape's hand in his own.

Dumbledore came over and laid his hand gently on Harry's shoulder. In a soft voice that was as tender as it was paternal, “is there something I should know, Harry?”

Harry jumped and looked up at the Headmaster. “I-” He hung his head and searched for the words he needed to explain everything. Dumbledore waited patiently. He had learned long, long ago not to rush things like this. “I would never have done this, Professor. I... I love him.”

Silence stretched out in the space between the wizards. Harry held his breath, not sure what to do from here. Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat. “I think that you should start from the beginning, Harry. I'm not sure I understand what you're saying.”

Harry looked up at him and swallowed hard. “I... I don't know how much more clear I can make it, Professor. I...”

Albus held up his hand. “Alright, I believe I understand. How serious is this relationship?”

“There would have to be a relationship for it to be serious, Professor. He hates me. The only reason I get to be this close to him is that he's not awake,” Harry explained. His voice was full of sorrow and hopelessness and Dumbledore couldn't help but feel bad for the boy. He had to admit that he was relieved that he didn't have to deal with the nightmare of having a staff member involved with a student, but the pain in Harry's face was heartbreaking.

“I must ask, Harry, why do you stay by him if you believe his feelings to be that strong? There are many young – men who would be eager for the chance to become involved with you,” Dumbledore asked gently. Tears sprang to Harry's eyes and he barely managed to suppress a small sob.

“I can't,” Harry said sadly. Dumbledore moved forward and reached for Harry's shoulder.

“What do you mean, Harry?” Dumbledore's voice was low and urgent.

“I mean what I said, Dumbledore. I can't leave him. I don't know how much I can explain, but that's it in a nutshell,” Harry replied anxiously. Dumbledore frowned, but he didn't press Harry any further. The silence stretched out between them, not quite comfortable, but not yet oppressive. Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a soft clearing of the throat from the door. He turned to find McGonagall standing there watching them. With a quick glance back at Harry's pained face, he gestured for McGonagall to wait for him outside.

“You can sit with him for a while, Harry, but then he needs rest.” Harry nodded his agreement quickly, not wanting the headmaster to change his mind. Dumbledore left quietly, ushering McGonagall before him. “Its best if you don't ask too many questions, Minerva. I have this under control.”

The door closed on the professors voices and Harry was finally left alone. In the silence, he looked over Snape's body. Whatever had happened to him, it had left him bruised and broken in places. There were burns along one side of his face. His bare chest looked like an angry troll had used him to work out some issues. Harry's breath caught in this throat as he reached down to touch on of the few places that wasn't swollen or purple. “What happened, Snape? What attacked you?”

Harry snatched his hand back when his question was answered with a low moan and a tentative cough. He stepped back and watched Snape regain consciousness. Almost as soon as he was fully awake, he seemed to regret it and groaned. He opened his eyes and saw Harry watching him and his eyes turned to ice. “Potter. I thought I was clear about my expectations on when you would find yourself in my presence.”

Harry winced and swallowed hard. “What happened?”

“I fail to see how that is any of your business, Mr. Potter,” Snape snarled, managing to appear aloof even with a burned, bloody face and bare chest trying hard to distract Harry.

“Well, when the other teachers think I did it to you, I think it's at least a little my business,” Harry retorted hotly before he could remind himself that the man on the bed in front of him was his teacher.

“Why would they think this was your fault? I blew up a potion I was working on. You weren't anywhere near it,” Snape scoffed. Harry looked at him like he had grown another head.

“You blew up a potion? Is that even possible?” Harry asked, perplexed. Snape narrowed his eyes at him.

“Yes, Mr. Potter, it is possible, as my injuries now affirm. Don't you have a class to attend, or anywhere else to be? Or is your current purpose in life to badger me in my convalescence?” Harry flinched at the barbed words and looked away. “What? No witty comeback?”

“Why can't you just get it through your thick skull that someone might just be concerned for your well-being? You never blow up potions. You could have died. I was concerned,” Harry snapped. “I'm sorry they brought me up here to see if I knew what had happened to you, because the only thing you said after they found you was my name. They thought that maybe I would know something. I didn't, but I still wanted to stay and see if you would wake up. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Why do you always have to be such a prat?”

Snape stared in disbelief as Harry turned away. He couldn't believe the tears he had seen building in the boy's eyes or his outburst. The words were those of a concerned student, but the passion behind them didn't match, especially when the student in question was Harry bloody Potter. “What did you say?”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

“How would you know what I said when they found me?” Snape asked, momentarily ignoring the question of why Potter would be crying over him.

“Dumbledore told me when they brought me over here to see if I knew what happened to you,” Harry replied softly. Snape was quiet for a moment. He didn't remember that, but he didn't think it was something that the headmaster would lie about. Why would he call for Harry? More importantly, why would he jump to that particular conclusion? The boy had just said that he had said Harry's name, not that he had been calling for him. “What potion were you brewing?”

“What?” Snape had to pull himself out of his musings to hear Harry's question when he repeated himself. “It was a scrying potion. I must have grabbed the wrong ingredient.”

Harry turned back toward him, disbelief written all over his face. “Right. Cuz that's ever happened before.”

“Watch your tone, Mr. Potter. I am still a teacher, injured or not,” Snape warned.

“What were you looking for? With the scrying potion, I mean. I've never heard of one blowing up and causing that kind of damage before,” Harry continued, still not believing that Snape would botch a potion that badly. “It doesn't even look like the cauldron hit you. It looks like-”

“I am well aware of what it looks like, Mr. Potter. Now, if you are quite finished, it is time for you to go. I am very tired,” Snape ordered. It was mostly true. Really, he just wanted some time to himself to think, without Potter's incessant talking. Harry bit his lip and looked over to where he had dropped his bag.

“Well, I'm not supposed to be roaming the halls by myself right now. If I promise to leave you alone, would it be alright if I just sat here and worked on my homework?” he asked softly. Snape raised an eyebrow.

“I am not going to tutor you, Mr. Potter.”

“No, I didn't think that you were. I just...” don't want to leave you. Harry couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. It hadn't been all that long since Snape was throwing things at him and telling him to leave him alone forever. But, with him confined to his bed, and both arms broken, the worst he could do was yell. Yelling was easy. Life with the Dursleys had prepared him for yelling. Snape didn't object further, so Harry shouldered his bag and carried it over to the bed next to Snape's. He sat down and pulled his Potions book out and started in on the two foot paper on fluxweed and ginger interactions that was due by the end of the week. He made it a point not to ask Snape any questions, making notes wherever he got confused so that he could remember to ask Hermione for assistance later.

Snape, for his part, was impressed when he saw which homework Harry chose to work on, and even more so when the boy went out of his way to honor his request for peace. His mind refused to slow down. Why had he botched that spell? Why had he called for the one student whose presence he couldn't stand? Most importantly, why was that same student's presence now comforting? The boy wasn't saying anything, he wasn't helping him heal. He was just sitting on the bed next to his, quietly working on the homework that had been assigned a few days ago. But, why was he sitting there? Snape could wrap his head around the order for students not to wander the hallways alone, but why had Potter chosen the bed immediately adjacent to his own? The harsh, angry words that he'd shouted the last time he had seen the boy echoed in his head. Most other students, with the possible exception of a few of his Slytherins, would avoid subjecting themselves to the company of an injured Snape. It just didn't make sense.

Harry started humming to himself, and Snape opened his mouth to complain, but soon decided that he didn't mind it all that much. It wasn't exactly an unpleasant sound, and, strangely, Snape found that, the longer he listened, the less his wounds hurt. After only a few moments, Snape's eyes drooped closed and his breathing evened out. Harry looked over at him, about to ask a question and smiled when he saw that he was sleeping. He went back to his homework.
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Bound by Blood (and Faith)