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You Don't See Me	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 11703 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I'm not making any money off of writing fanfiction for it, either. Obviously.

Chapter List
- 1-I
- 2-II
- 3-III
- 4-IV
- 5-V
- 6-VI
- 7-VII
- 8-VIII
- 9-IX
- 10-X
- 11-XI
- 12-XII
- 13-XIII
- 5
- 6
- 7
VI.
'I dream of worlds where you'd understand, and I dream a million
sleepless nights'

It was Lucius and Narcissa's
wedding day. All Severus felt about that was an overwhelming sense
of relief. Lucius was finally getting married. Now that Narcissa
would be putting out, he wouldn't be asked to sate his friend's
hormones again. He'd been mercifully forgotten at the bachelor party
too—in favor of an erotic dancer who'd obviously used an
engorgement charm on her breasts. Severus wasn't sure how she'd
managed to carry them around at that size, but Lucius was pleased
enough with them and happily took advantage of his 'last night as a
free man'. It would be his last night as a living man, too, if
Narcissa ever found out about it. That thought made Severus' lips
quirk a bit in amusement.

He stood in a shaded corner
of the grove away from the bulk of the crowd. For the first time in
many years he felt as if he'd been freed from a measure of torment
he'd long since forgotten he'd been carrying around with him. It
hardly made up for the fact that Lily was engaged to the irreverent
James Potter, but for the moment he was happy to take what bit of
peace he could get. After all, until 'I do', Lily still had time to
come to her senses. He decided not to think of Lily today as it
would ruin his unusually agreeable mood.

It was a pleasant afternoon.
A cool breeze ruffled his hair and the weather was amiable enough
that temperature modifying spells were completely unnecessary. The
food was good, the music entirely tolerable. It seemed as though
nothing could possibly ruin the day he was having until a rustling in
the leaves behind him startled him out of his reverie...

Harry sighed, exhausted. He was
positive there was nothing routine about the Ministry's routine
inspections at all. In fact, that ferrety little man he'd been
showing around ('At least it wasn't Umbridge,' Harry thought.)
spent the entire time asking not about the curriculum at all, but
about Snape. Harry had the feeling that they were really looking for
any excuse to not only remove him from his current post, but throw
him in Azkaban if they could find even the most tentative excuse to
do so. It didn't matter that Snape was on the right side of the war
all along, some people just refused to believe it. It was because
Snape 'just isn't very likeable'--as the man had told Harry. He'd
also added, 'as his personal assistant, I'm sure you understand that
his presence puts people ill at ease. The Ministry is concerned that
it could affect the learning in the institution.'

Harry finally found a use for
those meaningless reports he'd spent the past months filling out and
cataloging. “Actually, in recent months, the students' grades
have, on average, improved by almost twenty percent. I can show you
the reports if you'd like, but I'm afraid you'd miss lunch going
through them all. Headmaster Snape is very thorough.”
He didn't mention that a good percentage of the students were too
terrified of Snape to risk not doing their homework. Harry continued
to say that he found Snape to be very likeable, actually. He'd told
him that he's 'just a bit reserved, and dedicated to his work.
People might misunderstand and find him callous, but he's just very
busy.”

Basically, Snape owed him. Big.
Harry could think of a few ways for the man to make it up to him, but
he didn't think any of them would get the Headmaster's seal of
approval seeing as they all involved a very blatant lack of clothing.
Harry's current favorite also happened to involve strawberries,
whipped cream, and a considerable length of rope. His groin twinged
at the thought and he unconsciously licked his lips. 'Merlin's
beard, Harry! Is sex all you think about anymore?' He mentally
chided himself and cleared his throat before entering the office.

Much to his surprise, Snape was
asleep. It had apparently come on quickly, because there was still a
roll of parchment open beneath him, and a smear of ink across the
man's cheekbone. Harry smirked a bit. Snape would hate knowing he'd
been caught like this. He gently removed the quill from his former
Professor's hand, cleaned the tip, and capped the inkwell with a
whispered sealing charm. He moved to Snape's side of the desk and
considered how to get at the parchment without waking the dark-haired
man. 'You're really awfully cute when you're asleep. I guess
everyone is like that, huh? Well, I guess I'll get this ink off of
your face first.'

He pointed his wand, using the
spell he'd used many times as a student to suck ink off of the pages
of his essays, and watched the ink swirl away from the older man's
pale skin and vanish into the tip of his wand. 'What are you
dreaming about so intently, huh?'

The thought hit him unannounced.
His wand, he realized too late, was still looking for something to
suck inside. Suddenly, Harry was engulfed by light. He found
himself standing in a grove. Somewhere nearby, harps and laughter
filled the air. No, somewhere far off. No, wait...in the end he
couldn't get his mind around it. His eyes came into focus and he
realized he was staring at a young Severus—not a child, but
only barely an adult, who had just startled and spun about.

From a break in the trees
nearby, Voldemort emerged. No, Tom Riddle. At this point he was
still far more 'Tom' than he was Lord Voldemort. A handsome man,
overall, but one who had something intrinsically wrong with his
appearance that you couldn't quite put your finger on. He was not
yet the diseased-looking snake/man that would later plague Harry's
entire childhood.

It seemed as though nothing
could possibly ruin the day he was having until a rustling in the
leaves behind him startled him out of his reverie. Severus turned
abruptly. The man who emerged was handsome, he supposed, though
there was something unusual in his features that Severus couldn't
quite put his finger on. He just had the sense from looking at him
that he was somehow not quite human. More than that, it was the dark
power radiating off of the man that made his breath hitch.

“Hello Severus,”
the man said, tilting his head elegantly. “Will you walk with
me for a while?”

“You're Lord
Voldemort,” Severus blurted, then blushed at his abrupt and
vocalized realization. He cast his eyes away, but only for an
instant before straightening his shoulders and steadying his breath.
“I'm right, aren't I? Lucius speaks of you often.”

There was a faint quirk to
the man's lips and another slight incline to the head. “Yes.
Lucius implied that you and I might get along.”

“What you mean is, now
that he's married, the services he's required of me all these years
are no longer needed. Therefore, he doesn't have any qualms about
offering those services to you in such a way as might garner your
favor,” Severus quipped.

Voldemort's lips twitched
upward slightly further. It wasn't quite a feral grin, but it didn't
seem as pleasant as he intended it to appear. Severus felt excited
by the man's presence, but also very wary. He'd hoped to meet this
so called 'Dark Lord' for a long time. He wondered what sort of
person could arrogantly make such a claim and have people honestly
believe it. Now he understood. Voldemort exuded dark power. It
seemed to seep out of his skin and into the very air around him.

“He may have made such
a suggestion,” Voldemort answered bemusedly. “But I
thought we could perhaps get to know one another a bit first.”

Severus found himself nodding
dumbly without intending to do so.

“Then walk with me.
There is a glade nearby where we can be alone.”

Harry watched the dream memory.
He'd never imagined Voldemort could hold such a normal sounding
conversation even though under the words, there was nothing remotely
normal about what was happening. He felt a dizzying sensation as he
was suddenly transported to a new place. Ah, this must be the glade.
Severus was lying on his stomach with his head bent over a book.
His outer robes were laid aside, and the gentle breeze ruffled his
white tunic. Harry had the feeling that quite some time had passed.

Severus looked up and Harry
jumped, forgetting that he wasn't really part of the scene, and that
Voldemort passing through him wasn't really as creepy as—okay,
it was still intensely creepy. Severus sat up, a very faint smile
quirking his lips. “I was beginning to wonder if you'd show
up.”

Voldemort dropped to his
knees and ran his fingers through Severus' hair without saying
anything right away. The power from his fingertips raced lightly
through Snape's slim figure, leaving a heady feeling behind. He
didn't think he would ever get tired of the feeling of the Dark
Lord's power seeping through his veins. He knew this man was bending
him to his will, but it was so easy to submit. Voldemort had always
been kind to him. It was true that he hadn't known the man very
long, but there seemed to be a seed in the back of his mind that the
'services' Lucius had demanded him might not be entirely unpleasant
if—no, when—Lord Voldemort required them. This, too, he
thought might be Voldemort bending him to his will, but Severus had
nothing else in life of any worth. The evenings when the Dark Lord
came to him in this meadow had somehow become all he lived for. They
were not particularly notable evenings. They would relax and discuss
different magics and spells. Voldemort would ask him his opinions of
various magical theories, and listen quietly as he would ramble on
excitedly long after the Dark Lord appeared to have lost interest in
what Severus was saying. This small consideration, and the fact that
someone actually cared about his opinion on matters which he felt
strongly about would have won Severus to Voldemort's side without the
magic. With it, the bond was only more firmly cemented. He felt a
sort of kinship that he couldn't explain.

“How many times have I
broken my promise to meet you?” Voldemort asked.

“About half of them,”
Severus replied flatly.

Voldemort smiled and caressed
his cheek. “And yet, you always wait for me.” Severus
thought to say he had nothing better to do anyway, but Voldemort kept
speaking and he didn't dare interrupt. “So intelligent. So
loyal. I am pleased
with you. Very pleased, indeed. You will use that intelligence of
yours to serve me, won't you, Severus?”

“Yes.” There was
no other word Severus could utter. The answer had been with him long
before the question was asked.

“And your loyalty to me
will not falter, will it Severus?”

“It won't, my Lord.”

“Mm, that's a good boy.
Take off your clothes.”

Severus was momentarily
startled. Voldemort's power suddenly left him and the chill of the
night air made him feel cold. The man was standing across the
clearing, leaning against a tree with a playful little smirk on his
face. Severus could do nothing but obey. Goosebumps formed on his
flesh as it was exposed to the air. His eyes sought Voldemort's for
approval, or at the very least, not disdain. 'Please, anything but
disdain.' He felt a sort of relief in spite of the fact that he knew
Voldemort was deliberately making him endure the chill that left him
standing goose-pimpled in the moonlight. He was being tested.
That's not why he felt relief. From the first 'hello' Severus had
known these acts would eventually be required of him. Knowing that
that time had finally come removed the uncertainty of not knowing
when it might happen.

Voldemort lowered himself to
the ground and opened his trousers. “Come to me, Severus. I
will allow you the honor of pleasuring me.”

Snape didn't remember walking
over. He didn't remember kneeling before the Dark Lord's thighs. He
did very clearly remember asking, “In what manner would you
like to be pleasured, my Lord?”

Voldemort dragged a finger of
Severus' lips. The dark power he possessed sent ripples through his
body which caused Snape to forget the chill air on his bare flesh.
“Tonight, your mouth,” Voldemort whispered. “We
will save other endeavors for another time.”

Harry had to resist the urge to
vomit when he saw Snape lower his mouth over Voldemort's shaft. How
many times had Voldemort demanded 'service' from him after this?
What sickened him more than the way Snape took his time, periodically
glancing upward to see if his attentions were pleasing his lord and
master, was that he understood. He understood very clearly why Snape
had bent to Voldemort's will so easily. For so many years, Harry had
hated him for it, but to bow down to a man who treated you kindly
when no one else would—that wasn't a crime, it was simple human
nature. In the same position, Harry realized, he would have been
exactly the same. And how different would Severus have turned out if
he'd had Ron and Hermione instead of Lucius? What seemed the most
amazing was that in spite of all of this—Severus still managed
to break away from Voldemort. He had still acted so long as a
double-agent, playing both sides, to protect Harry. His love for
Harry's mother had been that great, and his guilt for causing her
death that great, that even this didn't matter.

Severus lapped and licked and
sucked. Voldemort's grip on the back of his head had been gentle at
first, but even as it grew firm he didn't feel particularly bothered
by it. All that existed was this moment—the man above him
panting softly, the turgid length in his mouth. It seemed as if,
maybe, being with another man might actually be slightly pleasant, so
long as that man wasn't Lucius. He had to give up on Lily. She was
married, pregnant, and already lost to him. If he couldn't be with
her, then perhaps allowing Voldemort to use his body wouldn't really
be all that bad. It wasn't some delusion of love, never that, but a
mutual understanding that whatever it was Lord Voldemort wanted from
him, Severus was willing to give. That wasn't to say that he was
enjoying the act. It was, gratitude, he supposed. Without Lord
Voldemort, Severus knew his life had no real meaning.

Dark power flooded through
him with Voldemort's release. He swallowed it eagerly, knowing it a
gift awarded only because he'd pleased his lord and master.
Voldemort pulled him up from the ground and kissed his jaw, nibbled
at his throat.

The man's hands slithered
down from his biceps to his forearms, and suddenly the joy he'd felt
at being able to please the Dark Lord vanished and blinding agony
took its place as the Dark Mark burned into his flesh. He screamed,
but even through his scream somehow heard Voldemort murmur deep
within his soul, “You belong to me. You will be my most loyal
servant, my most prized Death Eater.”

For the first time since he
was a child, and the only time in his adult life, tears dripped down
Severus Snape's face. 'Yes, my Lord.'

Severus awoke with a start and
Harry found himself flung to the floor. He hadn't meant to hold on,
really. Yes, he was naturally curious, but he knew it was horribly
wrong to invade Snape's private thoughts in such a way. This one was
far worse than anything Harry had seen during Occlumency lessons.

It took Snape all of three
seconds to realize what had happened. He didn't even give Harry the
courtesy of screaming first. His nostrils flared and his brow
twitched, and then a non-verbal spell shot out of the man's wand that
singed Harry's hair, knocked a portrait off the wall, and shattered
a vase into so many pieces it was as if the glass and had just
evaporated and the flowers fell to the floor in a heap. “Get
out!” Snape hollered.

“I! P-professor, I!”

“Get out!!”

“It was an accident
and...”

“Get out, Potter! If
I ever lay eyes on you again, it will be your last day on earth, so
help me!”

Another curse went flying
towards him. Harry had no choice but to flee the room at top speed.
He could barely breathe when he collapsed onto his bed five minutes
later. His eyes burned, and he realized he was crying.

Severus, after destroying half
of the headmaster's office in a rage, collapsed into the chair,
fighting a wave of nausea from exerting himself so much. 'Why?
Must Potter bear witness to all of my most shameful moments?'

“That brat,” he
grumbled.

“I do believe you made him
cry,” Dumbledore's portrait mused as he consoled a headmistress
who had fled for his portrait when hers went crashing to the ground.

“I do believe it's none of
your damned business,” Snape retorted. “He'll
have forgotten the entire thing by morning.” 'I, on the
other hand, have not been gifted with the memory of a goldfish.'
How was he supposed to face Harry tomorrow? And what was he supposed
to say then that would brush off the subject without damaging his
pride?

Severus leaned his head forward
into his hands.

Dumbledore's portrait smirked.
'Just a bit more persistence, Harry. A bit of persistence, and a
little bit of dumb luck, I think.'

Severus stood abruptly, barked
something barely coherent about a sour stomach and going to his
quarters to rest a while and stormed from the room with his customary
intensity.

“They really are rather
cute,” Dumbledore mused.

“That one looks
more homicidal than cute to me, Dumbledore,” Dippet commented.

“Oh, just wait a bit,”
Dumbledore said with the usual amused twinkle in his eye, “when
it comes to Severus, he's always the most homicidal just before he's
the most endearing. He's been that way ever since he was a little
boy.”
- 5
- 6
- 7
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You Don't See Me