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Wounds	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 11814 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I making any money off writing fanfiction for it. That's what makes it FANfiction, obviously. So leave me and my slashy little plot bunnies alone.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
VI.
The Pensieve Revisited

Harry
could only stay in bed but so long. Ron and Hermoine had deduced
something had happened in detention with Snape, but when they tried
to ask he shot them down before they got through the question. If he
didn't think about it, kept himself busy with other things, he'd
manage. He'd humiliated himself, but it wasn't the first time and it
certainly wouldn't be the last. He'd been dreading their next
Potions class for two days, and used the Marauder's Map religiously
to avoid running into Snape in the halls. His stomach churned, chest
ached, and his appetite was practically non-existent. He knew his
friends were worried, but he didn't give them opportunities to ask.
Every time he thought they might, he quickly brought up a safe topic:
Quidditch, their Charms homework, Hagrid--anything he could think of
that was as far from the topic of Snape as he could get.

He
kept imaging the disgusted look Snape would give him when they
inevitably came into contact again. He dreaded it. Right when they
were making a bit of awkward headway something like this just had
to happen. ...and he still dreamed of Snape. He dreamed
of the man wrapping his arms around him, of his pale skin bared
before him. Of all the same things he'd dreamed of before, but when
he woke up and realized it was nothing more than a dream it was a
more savage blow than it used to be.

It's
not as if he didn't know that Severus Snape's heart belonged to one
person only, and that that person wasn't him. But as long as the man
didn't know how he felt, he somehow imagined it wouldn't be so bad,
sneaking glimpses of him, maybe looking forward to the occasional
detention, if only because it was hours of time they'd be alone
together. He knew it was a bizarre, twisted way of thinking. He
didn't care. He shook his head and steeled himself. He couldn't
delay any longer. He was already going to be late for class.

When
he strolled in, trying to act normally, Snape simply said "nice
of you to join us, Mr. Potter," without turning around from
where he was spelling instructions onto the board. Harry fumbled his
ingredients and had to endure Malfoy's snide remarks as he picked
them up and took his seat.

"...sorry
I'm late, Professor," he said, but his words were barely
audible.

Snape
ignored him. It was normal behavior for Snape, but somehow Harry
couldn't help feeling it was personal. "Today we will be
working on a Draught of Peace. We have tried it before, with
horrific results, as I am certain some of you will recall. Today we
will make another attempt, hopefully much improved. Although,"
Snape amended, turning to glance around the room. "Some
of you, I am already aware, are quite hopeless. It will take the
entire class to complete, so I suggest you begin immediately.
And...Mr. Longbottom, do try not to make anything explode, if you'd
be so kind. Mr. Filch only just refinished the desktops, and I think
he would be rather disenchanted to find you'd destroyed one so soon."

Neville
blushed as Snape took his seat. Normally, Harry would stand up for
him, but he just couldn't bring himself to open his mouth and risk
humiliating himself further. He focused on his ingredients, trying
desperately to ignore a certain blond-haired bastard still making
clumsy gestures and laughing at the next table over.

"Mr.
Malfoy," Snape said suddenly. "I know how adept you are at
potions, but I would appreciate silence, to keep distractions for the
other students to a minimum, if you would be so kind."

Draco's
mouth fell in shock. Harry's too. Snape had never
scolded Malfoy for anything. Ever. Sure, he'd done it politely this
time, but Harry wondered if Snape knew Malfoy was picking on him. He
didn't want to think of Snape coming to his defense just because he
took pity on him or something, but, well, he had to admit seeing
Draco Malfoy speechless had
improved his sour mood. He smirked very slightly.

Halfway
through class, some potions were already exploding, but Harry was
concentrating hard, making damn sure not to miss a single instruction
this time, trying to read them over two or three times to be sure.
He wasn't sure he got the stirring quite right, but the fact that his
potion hadn't combusted by the time class was over, he thought, was a
good sign. He brought his sample up with Ron and Hermoine. Snape
lifted it, inspecting the vial and before he got more than two steps
away. "Potter, I require a word with you."

Harry
tensed. Oh, here it came. He told Ron and Hermoine that he would
catch up later. Snape didn't say anything until the last student
left, making a show of inspecting Harry's phial carefully. When they
were alone, he put it down, saying, "Passable, in any case."

Harry
blinked and Severus gestured for him to take a seat before lifting
Hermoine's potion and handing it to him. "Professor?"
Harry asked.

"Drink
it," Snape said. "It will help."

Harry
blinked again.

"In
this particular case, the whole phial is probably not uncalled for."

Something
clicked in Harry's brain. "Did you...today's lesson...was that,
because of me?" His cheeks turned a pleasant shade of pink.

"Drink,"
Snape repeated. "She's an insufferable know it all, but Granger
does good work. I will give her that much."

Harry
uncapped it and downed the liquid, making a mental note to share the
compliment with Hermoine later--she deserved it. It had a slightly
bitter taste, but he almost instantly felt the tension ease out of
his back and shoulders. He felt almost instantly calmer. Sitting
across from Snape no longer felt like cause for a nervous breakdown.

"Now,"
Snape said, taking back the empty flask. "In regard to our last
meeting."

Harry
cleared his throat awkwardly.

"It's
nothing to be ashamed of," he stated. "At your age,
such...impulses...are perfectly normal. I'll admit a measure of
surprise, but you needn't worry yourself over it. I am quite willing
to put the whole episode behind us as if it never happened. It was
simply bad luck that that particular potion is the one you got wrong.
I was rather expecting you to confuse Forgetfulness Potion with
Aging Potion again."

Snape
was trying to give him the easy out. Harry couldn't help but gape in
amazement at the man. But then, he supposed that Snape knew what it
was like to be humiliated over an unrequited love. The draught of
Peace kept him from getting too worked up, and he was glad for that,
though his chest ached painfully at being rather firmly let down.
What had he expected to happen, really? There were a number of
reasons it could never work--not least of which was that Snape was
Harry's teacher, old enough to be his father, and had been deeply in
love with his mother for twenty years. That was only the beginning
of the list. He managed to say at last, "thank you for being so
understanding, sir."

Snape
gave a curt nod, which Harry took as his permission to leave. He got
about two feet before Snape spoke again. "...Potter."

"Yes
sir?"

"...I
know potions is not your...strongest subject. If you require further
instruction to supplement the course of study...you know where to
find me."

Snape
didn't know why he'd made the offer. He didn't know why he'd just
given Harry free reign to pop into his office whenever he wanted,
with a ready-made excuse. The words had just spilled out, and he
thought maybe he could do with a draught of peace as well now that
he'd said it.

Harry's
cheeks colored faintly. He didn't dare turn around and let Snape see
it. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the offer, and the potion
he'd taken was preventing him from freaking out about it properly for
the time being. "...thank you, sir," he said at last.
"Ah, right then. I'll be late for divination if I don't hurry."

"Of
course," Snape said. "You are excused."

When
the door closed behind him, Severus dropped his face into his palms.
'What was that
just now?' he asked himself.
'This boy...is making a fool out of me.'

He
had to admit, if only to himself, that he didn't know how to react to
Harry after his accidental confession of...what? Lust, he supposed?
It had been flattering, but also altogether terrifying, the way Harry
had reacted to the Heartshorne potion. He wished he could see in the
mirror what the boy seemed to see, but no matter how he turned, he
didn't seem to have a single appealing angle. His nose was too
prominent, his skin ghostly, his hair impossible. And he was
definitely no longer young. He shook his head. No, he'd been over
all of this before and it was irrelevant. Harry was just trying so
hard to become friendly with him that he was seeing all kinds of
things that weren't there. It wouldn't be long before his attentions
were diverted to another, more appropriate target.

It
had though, Severus supposed, been a welcome favor when Harry
pretended to have the flu. It gave him time to clear his thoughts,
find the right wording that would let them both off of the hook. He
thought now that he'd managed it. The only problem to overcome now
were the roiling emotions within his own heart.

He
was twisted, certainly. So much time at Voldemort's side had somehow
made him grossly warped and emotionally handicapped. He would always
love Lily, he knew that, but it was a pain that he found had been
dulling in recent years. He would always hate James, but Harry was
not James. He was arrogant at times, yes, and incredibly stubborn,
but he was far gentler than James. Almost sweet, really, when he
wanted to be. Snape shook his head. No, he mustn't go there again.
Such thoughts were unforgivable. The way his pulse had raced when
Harry had wrapped around him...that was only because it had been so
long since anyone had
touched him, nothing more.

He
had very nearly convinced himself of these things. That Harry Potter
had infested every corner of his mind was only because the boy was
constantly present. That he had been dreaming of him periodically
ever since their Occlumency lessons, meaningless. That his dreams
were full of the boy ever since that horrifying Quidditch
incident...coincidental. And that his pulse raced and his mouth went
dry whenever he laid eyes on Harry, that he was shaping lessons now,
around what he thought the boy would most need and inviting him to
stop by his office whenever he so pleased...

...well,
that was a problem. A
problem for which no immediate solution came to mind, and one, he
thought, that could very well be his undoing. 'Damn him.
Damn his tousled hair, those gorgeous eyes, damn his quizzical
expressions, his pouty lips, his stupid grins, and damn his taut
little arse too.' Severus was
convinced. Harry Potter had been some kind of clever plot--no doubt
James's doing--to gradually drive him insane. It was completely
illogical, he knew, but if he could blame James for everything, then
he didn't have to admit the heart he'd so carefully barricaded from
the world was about to break free of its chains if he didn't do
something to prevent it.

He
blinked at the dimly lit office. He didn't know what time it was or
when he'd made it from his classroom to here. He'd been so lost in
thought since this morning. He vaguely remembered attending lunch,
making a wry comment about Hagrid's more oafish habits. He vaguely
remembered the half-giant still giving him the silent treatment at
dinner, too. But what he'd eaten, how long it had taken, the number
of footsteps between one place and the next--these things had been a
complete blur.

He
stared down at the pensieve on his desk. Dumbledore had loaned it to
him. Said he looked like he needed to clear his head. He couldn't
deny that the man was right. Memories swirled in its surface, but he
couldn't remember what he'd put in there. Recent things, he was
sure. He would look at them later, see if he could make heads or
tails of his own mind with a third person view of it all. For now,
he thought, a shower. A good, hot shower always forced the world to
make a little more sense. He got up and headed into his quarters.

Harry
didn't remember making a conscious decision to head to Severus
Snape's office. He didn't remember making any decisions at all. His
mind had been going over their brief conversation all afternoon.
Harry's feelings had been chocked up to teenage libido, but he wasn't
sure if Snape was only saying that to give them a convenient excuse
to brush off the effects of the Heartshorne potion or if he actually
believed it. And to then invite Harry to stop by his office whenever
he wanted, providing another convenient excuse of additional help in
potions...what exactly was the man playing at? He had half a mind to
ask, and, somehow, found himself staring angrily at Snape's office
door. 'How dare he brush off my feelings like that, like
they're just some idiotic crush or some passing physical attraction
that will move onto someone else any moment! How dare he presume
there's nothing about him worth pursuing and that, that I'm so fickle
that even under a potion like that my feelings, however poorly
expressed, can just be...I won't be brushed off like that!'

The
flare of temper had been so sudden that he didn't realize how he'd
pounded on the door. There was no answer. His temper reduced itself
to a simmer. "...Professor?" Still no answer. Now it
cooled, and a minor panic took its place. The last time Snape wasn't
in his office his health had turned sour. Harry burst in the door.
The bookcase was cracked open again, and if he listened carefully he
could hear running water. He swallowed a lump that quickly formed in
his throat at the image his mind readily conjured of a sopping wet
Severus Snape, scantily clad--or better yet, not clad at all. There
was only one part of the man he had to leave to his imagination...one
of the more important ones, mind.

He
shook his head of that particular train of thought, and that's when
he noticed the pensieve. Oh, this pensieve had gotten him into loads
of trouble over the years, but he still had a soft spot for it. It
had taught him so many things. He could remember seeing Severus
Snape as a boy, neglected, all but abandoned, so like himself in so
many ways. Severus Snape being tormented by his father, befriended
by his mother...so many things about the man he wouldn't have known.
And there were thoughts swirling in it now too.

No.
He couldn't. That was too risky. Did Snape take long showers, he
wondered? How long had he been in there? He really shouldn't...but
his wand was already poking the substance within, though he couldn't
recall pulling it out. He could still hear the water running.
'Hell...maybe...just a quick peek.'

He
leaned over and soon found himself swirling into the past. It
wasn't the distant past he was accustomed to. It was the most
unusual sensation, really, watching himself standing in front of
Professor Snape's desk, looking more than a little befuddled. "I
can see that, Potter," Snape was saying. "You may go."

'Ah,'
Harry realized. 'This was that time. The detention when
he called me 'Harry'. Odd, he
thought, that that was around where his own feelings probably started
to coil in odd knots that he didn't quite understand as he should.

The
other Harry left the room. Snape let out a long sigh and loosened
the collar of his robes, hissing slightly. Harry saw as he removed
them, the bandages on the side of his neck were stained a dark brown.
Snape touched it, and rubbed his fingers together. It was wet. He
stripped to the waist and removed the bandages, poured an ample
amount of purifying draft on very open wounds, and collapsed back
into his seat, brow knit with pain. His hands shook. "Incorrigible
brat," he groaned. "As nosy as his mother ever was."
A slight smirk pulled at his lips, but it was quickly followed by a
grimace, features paling. He straightened up, but not with his usual
elegance, and reached for more clean bandages.

Harry
made his way around to stand behind him, get a better view of the
angry wound, and saw a glistening sweat on Snape's brow he hadn't
noticed when he was doing his detention. The wastebasket under the
desk was full of stained bandages like the ones he'd just tossed into
it. There was hardly anything else there. A note on the Professor's
desk had a list of 'to do's in regaining his health, and from what
Harry could tell, Severus hadn't done most of them. No doubt a
nagging little aside from Madam Pomfrey. One item on the list was
'avoid unnecessary aggravation!!'
Harry had a feeling he had probably been cause for a good deal of
that on the day in question.

Snape
was holding a patch of gauze to the wound, patting away excess blood
and liquid until the bleeding slowed to nearly a stop and wrapped new
bandages around his neck. "That boy is going to be the death of
me yet," he muttered in annoyance, looking at the purifying
draught Harry had made. "Once in a while, he does something
right, I suppose, but he has the attention span of a gnat." He
poured the draft into a vial and corked it, opening a desk drawer
where it joined many similar vials. Half of them were empty, but
Harry had a feeling the potion in all of those had been the same too.

The
scene went dark and another faded in. He was in Snape's quarters now.
Someone's shadow crossed the potion master's prone form on the bed.
He turned to look and found it was Professor McGonagall.

Snape's
eyes opened slowly. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and weary.
"If you've come to give me another lecture, then get out,
Minerva," he said. "I'm in no mood."

"And
no condition either, apparently," Professor McGonagall told him
sternly.

He
forced himself to sit up, the blankets falling so his torso was bare
in the firelight. Harry smirked as he found the ever-proper head of
Gryffindor House find the bed linens particularly interesting. He
imagined she hadn't laid eyes on a half naked man in quite some time.

"Touche,"
Severus answered. "Are we finished now?"

"Not
quite. I rather think you should return to the infirmary. You're
being too stubborn, exerting yourself too much."

"If
you're going to quote Poppy at me, you might as well have sent her to
nag me herself."

McGonagall
locked his gaze sternly. "I assure you, that can be arranged."

Snape
seemed to deflate a bit at the thought. "You know as well as I
do that there's nothing further she can do for me. Either the
purifying drafts will eventually get the better of the venom, or they
won't. Lying about isn't going to increase my chances. Teaching
lessons isn't going to worsen them," he snipped irritably.

Harry's
hand came to his mouth. The way Snape had said that...well, it was
nothing like what he'd been telling Harry--that he would be fine.

"Lying
about, as you say," Minerva McGonagall added tersely. "Will
at the very least ease your pain."

"I
can take a little pain," Snape answered.

"Obviously,"
McGonagall replied, and it seemed to Harry she was teasing him a bit,
trying her hand at his usual sarcastic tone. Snape seemed to think
so too. He laid back against the mattress with a pronounced flop and
said, "Get out, Minerva. I'm resting."

"Yes,
resting indeed. You'll have to forgive me, sulking and resting often
look so similar the way you wear them."

Snape
didn't answer her.

"Severus,"
McGonagall said dourly, "is there any improvement?"

"I've
had to take a fever reducer last night," Snape answered.

"Ah,
that's wonderful!" McGonagall said. "That's a good sign.
I will let Poppy know."

"It's
none of her concern," Snape snapped.

"She
is your physician," McGonagall stated in the tone she always
used when she was exerting her authority.

"She
is a nuisance. I am fully capable of treating my own illnesses."

Harry
chortled a bit. 'Yeah,' he thought. 'And you were doing so
well with that when I found you.'

Minerva
McGonagall sighed. "If I catch you out of bed before your fever
breaks, it's St. Mungo's with you, Severus Snape, am I understood?"

Snape
answered with a slight grunt of annoyance, but Harry knew that Snape
was not seen after this for half a week.

The
scene yielded to another yet again. Harry blushed when he saw which
it was. He'd just downed the entire bottle of Heartshorne Potion and
had almost immediately started antagonizing Snape. Telling him how
much he understood him, and then, very nearly jumping him. His face
turned red. It had been embarrassing doing it, but watching it had
to be even worse. But he did see a few things from the outside
looking in he didn't notice the first time around.

Snape
had jumped at first contact, his face had--very briefly--flushed when
Harry's breath cascaded over his ear. He managed to overcome these
instinctive reactions quickly, but they were still there. They'd
still happened.

He
couldn't help but feel mortified all over again as Snape struggled
with him, trying to pry him off to get the antidote, but there were a
number of subtle emotions charging Snape's eyes he hadn't noticed.
There were subtle quirks of the mouth that told him how his words
were affecting his Professor. Snape blushed when Harry told him
'kiss me', and when Lily was mentioned, Snape's expression deadened
and his posture tensed.

After
some floundering from both of them, they reached the crux of the
incident. Harry inexplicably found his pulse racing, as if he would
see now what was so crucial to Snape about what had happened.

"You
are yourself, Harry Potter. No one else. Now take the damned
antidote and come back to your senses, idiot boy." Snape
was saying as he forced Harry's mouth open and poured the bottle of
cool liquid down his throat.

Harry's
cheeks had briefly cooled, but heated anew. Those words cut right to
the core of him 'you are yourself...no one else'. Had Snape intended
to say the very thing he knew would affect Harry most severely, or
had it just been a lucky accident? Harry still had no idea.

He
watched himself leaving and forced his attention back on Snape. The
man let out a shuddering breath once the door closed and drooped,
palms on the desk as if he couldn't stand properly, as if his legs
had somehow turned to jelly. Wait, no, that couldn't be right. That
made it sound as if he'd had a real effect on Snape in those few
minutes that the potion had consumed him. He kept watching rather
carefully.

Snape's
left hand twitched, clasped and unclasped, and then, much to Harry's
surprise, he'd...well, he groped himself with a moan. "Fool
boy," he grunted, and seemed barely able to pull his hand away.

'Was
he? Did I?' Harry's mind raced.
'No, no way. I only...'

But
Snape's expression changed to one of severe annoyance and he stalked
to his quarters, slamming the door behind him. Harry hurried to
follow, his throat going dry.

"A
shower," Snape said to himself. "A nice, long shower will
ease my nerves." He glanced down pointedly at his crotch as he
slipped out of his outer robes. "And hopefully a few other
things."

Harry
shouldn't be watching, he knew he shouldn't. This was really
personal. And he was about to force himself out of the memory, out of
the pensieve, but then Snape went and took his shirt off, revealing
his pale back and Harry was lost. 'Well, maybe just a
little more. I mean, I've already seen him nearly naked. He might
say something important while he still has some clothes on.'

But
Snape was stepping out of his pants as he made his way across the
room, leaving them behind on the floor, then into the bathroom, where
Harry followed, even though he knew that Snape would murder him if he
ever found out. He couldn't help himself. He told himself he'd
leave. 'Okay, I'm going. I'm really going. Right no--oh my
god he's huge!'

Snape
had just dropped his underclothes in the hamper, revealing the bits
that Harry hadn't yet seen. Harry's mouth went dry. His pulse raced.
He'd been actively trying to avoid looking at the front of Snape's
tented underpants, focusing on the lines flexing in his back and
shoulders, but now that the man was naked he couldn't help but stare.
His own desire spiked dangerously. He bit his cheek to hold in a
moan, but it escaped as a soft whimper. And when Snape turned to the
shower faucet... 'by Merlin, the arse is just as good.'

He
felt himself shifting awkwardly, his pants growing rather
uncomfortable. He should go. He should really, really
go.

Snape
stepped into the steaming water and he found himself, knowing he
couldn't be seen, heard, or even affected by the shower's moisture,
entering behind him. His breath caught in his throat as the water
cascaded over Snape's bared body. Snape scrubbed himself roughly,
trying to ignore his burgeoning erection. Harry didn't know how he
could, it was gorgeous. His own erection strained against his pants
and he found himself clenching his fists at his sides and biting his
lips.

Snape
shuddered when his calloused fingers accidentally brushed over a
sensitive nipple. He bit his lower lip and moaned softly, unable to
stop himself from letting his fingers linger a moment, pinch.

Harry
had to adjust himself, and moaned in reply.

Snape
pulled his hand away, irritated. "I can't," he rasped.

'Of
course you can, and while I'm on the subject, please do. Please!'
Harry found himself thinking at the man.

Snape
turned, and now Harry ogled Snape's arse, the muscles tensed with his
labored breaths. He could tell it was taking all of Snape's resolve
not to touch himself, and knowing he'd made the man so aroused by
such small gestures was highly vindicating.

He
held his breath as Snape spoke again, drowning in the husky tone.
Merlin, how he'd love to hear Snape call him by name in that
tone of voice. "He's Lily's son
for pity's sake. You're old enough to be his father." He let
out a shuddering breath. Harry found himself doing the same. "And
he's only mistaking pity for attraction. At his age, it's easy to
get confused."

"I
am not!" Harry demanded, but of course Snape couldn't hear him.
If only he could run his hands over the man's skin, or better yet,
wrap his lips around his strained cock... Harry moaned softly. But
no, he was only a shadow in this world. 'Oh get over it
Severus, please!
Touch it, because I can't...please let me see you touch it...'

Snape
almost seemed to react to Harry's thoughts, but it was obviously that
he just couldn't bear the tension any longer and, leaning one hand
against the shower wall, used the other to begin to squeeze and
massage his member. Harry found he couldn't help but move to get a
better view. He knew he shouldn't do such a thing, but couldn't stop
himself. If they were really sharing the shower, he'd be kneeling on
the tub in front of Snape as if about to blow him senseless, and
Harry knew he would love to do just that. He watched Snape's hand
rocket over his flushed member and couldn't help but reach down to
readjust his own package again. He was enchanted. He'd never been
this turned on in his life. Pity? Snape thought this could possibly
be mistaken for pity? He obviously had self-esteem issues.

Snape
moaned and he replied in kind. Snape's hand sped up on his thick
member. 'Oh for love of Merlin, yes! Severus, please..!'
Harry thought.

"Ngh...ugh..."
Snape grunted. "Harry...oooh...Harry!" His seed spewed
out. Harry saw it coming, but it didn't touch him and splattered the
shower wall. "Fuck," Snape panted. "Harry..."
Both hands came up against the wall and he rested his head against
them, scowling. "Shameful," he muttered breathlessly. "No
better than some dirty old pervert. I have to be clear with him.
Succinct. He'll move on quickly and I...will go back to the way
things were before he started trying to make me lose my mind."

Harry
reached out as if to touch the man, though in the back of his mind he
knew it was impossible, and was suddenly jerked viciously from the
memory and thrown to the floor.

Severus
looked murderous. "You have a very
bad habit, Mr. Potter!"

"So
do you!" Harry snapped thoughtlessly. "Leaving your
personal thoughts out and about where anyone can see them." His
breath was a bit harsh. He realized he was still painfully aroused.
The man in front of him, fully dressed, but with wet hair...he
couldn't get the thought of his bared body out of his mind. He
wanted it. Badly.

"You
call breaking into my office and rummaging around while I am
indisposed, 'leaving things where anyone can see them?!' " Snape
was livid. He hadn't been sure exactly what he'd put in the pensieve,
but he had his suspicions and all of them were bad. However much
Harry had seen was definitely far too much.

Harry
hadn't seen him this angry since their Occlumency lessons. "Severus,
please," Harry started to say, only catching what he'd dared to
call the older man after the words had slipped. He plowed recklessly
forward. It was too late now anyway. "It's only because their
your memories. I know I shouldn't have but I wouldn't have
cared if they were anyone else's and...!"

"What
did you just call me?!"

Harry
looked away. His lust was starting to fade, but only because he was
afraid that there would be no getting out of this one. What would he
do if the older man couldn't forgive him for seeing such personal
things? He stood up, swallowed, and risked barreling forward.
"I...called you Severus. I know I don't have any right to,
but...I want to be on a first name basis with you and it slipped. I
wouldn't be so inclined to dive into your memories every time I see
them if you would talk to me."

"I
am under no such obligation," Snape replied tersely. He
wouldn't admit that the way 'Severus' rolled off of Harry's tongue
was immensely appealing. Never. At least not aloud.

"I
know," Harry answered awkwardly. "But..." Oh, this
was daring. "I...I'm under no obligation to pretend my feelings
are just some misguided sense of pity, just because it will make you
feel better when you push someone who cares about you away!"

Snape
grabbed Harry's collar in a rage. "How dare you!"

"How
dare you!" Harry
snapped back. "I'm fine, Harry. Just fine. Nothing to worry
about. You fed me those lies so easily. But what you told Professor
McGonagall is completely different! You don't even know if you're
going to live, do you? And all the people who care about you, who are
worried about you, you won't tell them anything! What are you afraid
is going to happen?!"

Severus
was stunned silent. Harry's eyes were brimming with tears and rage.
So like Lily's, but they weren't Lily's eyes. They were Harry's eyes.
He didn't feel for a moment as if Lily was the one shooting
accusations at him. It was an odd sort of relief, and he found his
rage and humiliation dimming by comparison. A part of him had always
been a little afraid that he was just displacing his feelings for
Lily onto her son, that that's why Harry effected him so. But now he
realized, definitively, Harry effected him because he was Harry, and
because Harry couldn't help but challenge him when he thought he
deserved it...and often when he didn't as well.

It
was not pity he saw in Harry's eyes now. There was anger and worry,
but no pity. Snape's heart leapt into his throat. How could he
answer this boy, who was staring at him with such raw emotion--a
degree which Severus could no longer remember how to display, if he
had ever known it. He broke the eye contact.

"...I
haven't taken the purifying draft since yesterday," he said, and
he could tell from Harry's shifting posture the boy wasn't sure what
that meant. "...I no longer require it."

The
anger and worry gave way to a much more innocent expression and Harry
stepped forward without thinking about it. "So, you mean..."

Severus
sighed. "I know you can't bring yourself to believe anything
you haven't seen with your own eyes." He opened the top buttons
of his robes to push his collar aside to reveal the injury in
question. There was no bandage. The wounds had scabbed over. The
angry-looking marks would probably leave a scar, but the healing had
finally begun. It was hard to believe they'd given Severus such
grief to look at them now. "Didn't I tell you that I'd be able
to take the bandage off soon? You're overreacting, as usual, Potter.
I would think, as a Gryffindor, you of all people would know what a
mother hen Minerva McGonagall can be, whether you need one or not."

Harry
laughed. It was a relieved laugh. His fingers unconsciously came up
and grazed, just barely, over the injured flesh. Snape didn't even
flinch. "Satisfied?" he asked the younger man, proud of
himself for not reacting visibly to the touch.

"Hardly,"
Harry answered. "Relieved, yes. Satisfied? After what you left
in the pensieve? Not even close to satisfied."

Harry
was pleased to see the way the older man's cheeks turned a blotchy
red as he realized he must have left something obscene within the
basin of his misted memories. "That...was none of your
business!" he found his voice crack in agitation again.

"I
know," Harry answered frankly, closing the distance between them
before Snape could notice and stop it. "I kept telling myself I
should leave before things got out of hand. But now, I sort of
think...you're the one who gave me the potion that made me confess to
you like that. You're the one to blame for all the angst you've put
me through. It's all your fault, really. So it's only fair that I
got a little something out of the deal."

"A...little...something..."
Snape's teeth grit, he had half a mind to curse the brat, but before
he could even think up something snarky to say, Harry had pulled his
head down rather abruptly and planted a very firm kiss on his
mouth--one that made his knees go weak. The younger man's tongue
tried to pry open his lips, but Severus kept them tightly pressed
together, willing himself not to submit. He was only a boy. Lily's
son. It wasn't right. But for all his efforts he felt he may have
already lost. When Harry pulled back a bit with an irritated little
sigh, he found his hands were resting on the boy's shoulders. His
entire body felt warm. How is it just a touch, or a breath, a mere
word from Harry Potter could almost instantly arouse him. "You're
maddening," he complained, finding the words come out more like
a smooth exhale than the sharp retort he'd been planning on.

"Let's
go into your room," Harry answered as if the comment was
irrelevant. "And you can tell me all about the parts of me that
drive you the maddest." He pressed himself firmly against
Snape, who felt a turgid erection against his thigh. "And I can
tell you all about how sexy you are, and how much I wish you'd stop
piddling on trivialities and take what I'm offering already."

Severus
barely managed to keep his voice from shivering. "Which
is...what, exactly?"

Harry
leaned in and planted a few kisses on the older man's bruised throat.
"You know," he exhaled on the moist skin. "As much
of me as you're willing to take." He smirked against the older
man's tender throat. "As often and as thoroughly as you're
willing to take it."
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Wounds