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Drowning	By : isidore13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 12005 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Drowning
- 2-Drowning
- 1
- 2
Title: Drowning

Author: Isidore

Summary: From sixth year on, Harry and Snape's kinky, angsty relationship.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing(s): Snape/Harry

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in that universe, and am making no money.
"I'd rather live with that greasy git Snape than the Dursleys any longer," Harry murmured to his friends after they asked him how his summer was.
Hermione smiled sadly at him. "I'm sorry we couldn't get you out of there sooner," she said.
Ron nodded. "Yeah, mate. But it's only one more summer, and you can move out after that, right?"
Harry looked at the floor and nodded. "Right." I wish. Harry wouldn't be able to move out of the Dursley's house until Voldemort was dead.
"Speaking of Professor Snape . . ." Hermione said tentatively.
"What?" Harry asked.
Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. "He'll be supervising the DA this year," Ron said quietly.
"WHAT?!" Harry spluttered, but he was so shocked � and disappointed � he couldn't seem to form any more words.
"Dumbledore said that he was the best person to supervise us, and he couldn't allow you to remain in charge of such a complex class."
Harry closed his eyes.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
"I have to go unpack," Harry said and without waiting for a reply, he headed upstairs to the room he shared with Ron.

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Severus stayed for dinner. All summer he'd felt a little more welcome in 12 Grimmauld Place, now that the mutt was dead.
Speaking of the mutt, Potter was looking a little sadder lately, a little bit more melancholy than usual. If that were possible.
Severus smirked at the boy, who glared at the sight. How fitting that Potter Junior would suffer at the hands of overeager, cruel boys just as Severus had at the hands of his father.
Snape smirked again malevolently and Harry flinched.
How interesting that was . . .
So very pretty Potter was. Young, smooth pale perfect skin, emerald green eyes that, despite Potter's impeccable, impenetrable poker face, showed every emotion the boy felt.
And somehow, still so innocent, despite the faintly sordid business with the Muggles. Severus had gone through much worse with his own parents, so the boy really had no cause to whine about the Muggles.
So very, very innocent . . .
Severus wanted to corrupt him.
Severus wanted that very much.
The boy was forbidden fruit. That was that.
Besides, Severus liked willing submissives, and the boy would never consent to being Severus'.
That was one of the reasons he had left Voldemort's ranks and turned spy. Voldemort's submissives were always, always, *always* unwilling. Severus cared about his submissives, wanted them to appreciate the thrill of pain and pleasure just as much as he did. His one and only Master had been a pleasant forty-year-old man to whom Severus' father had owed a great debt. Severus had been sent to the man every summer for payment from the age of thirteen until Severus turned eighteen, at which time it became Severus' choice to end or continue the relationship. Severus chose to end the Master/slave dynamic, but the man had remained a close and loyal companion to Severus until his death.
It was from him Severus learned the true way to be the Dominant to a submissive. At the age of fourteen, when their relationship became one of Master/slave, Severus' Master had gone over the submissive's obligations to the Master, and Severus had learned that the Master had specific and important responsibilities to the submissive.
Severus' Master had explained that a true, loving, Master/slave partnership was one of equality. The submissive made the free and conscious choice to enter into the relationship and give up control, and in return for this received certain guarantees. At the top of that list was the Master's guarantee of the submissive's safety, including a safeword to be agreed upon before the first sexual encounter. The safeword was a word the submissive would use when he could handle no more. At that point, all play would cease and the Master and submissive would have a discussion as to why the action was too much and what, if anything, either party could do to make the slave comfortable enough to continue. If the slave simply refused, then the Master was required to respect that.
Unsurprisingly, Severus had chosen 'potions' for his safeword.
Suddenly Severus snorted and dove even further into the good meal Molly had made for him. Whatever else Molly Weasley might be, she was an excellent cook.
Harry would never give himself to Severus. Severus was his greasy, evil, Death Eater Potions master.
But Severus could imagine, and dream, and fantasize, and now that the mutt was dead he could spend so much more time looking at the boy.

*************************************************************************************************
Harry yawned widely as he padded downstairs to the kitchen, intent on either some chocolate or some warm milk.
It was when he saw the empty phial on the counter that he got the Idea.
The Idea had been on the back of his mind for a long time, clearly, because seeing the phial made it all so suddenly *clear* in Harry's mind.
Suicide. Of course.
Brief, painless suicide.
It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders. No more decisions to make. No more heavy responsibility on thin shoulders. Just floating weightlessness, and then peaceful, blissful emptiness.
Wordlessly, reverently, he pocketed the phial and headed back upstairs to sleep, all thoughts of warm milk and sleeplessness evaporating like all his troubles, and resolving sleepily to commit as much time as he could without his friends becoming suspicious to researching ways to commit suicide so painlessly. . . .

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It was the end of January before Harry found a way. A variant on the potion described in Romeo and Juliet; it would first drop him into a deep and dreamless sleep, and then peacefully into death.
Perfect.
It was so close to February, Harry decided to wait until the Valentine's Day dance to head down to the dungeons and raid Snape's personal ingredients cabinet. Many of the ingredients required were Dark, and would not be in the student's cabinet. But, out of respect for the older man, he resolved to take what he could out of the students' ingredients cabinet, on the day of class before the Valentine's Dance.
He cursed as he accidentally-on-purpose dropped an entire bottle of boomslang skin. The bottle shattered and the nasty ingredient scattered all around the floor. All the students jumped away from it. No one knew what unshredded skin could do.
Snape spun around and glared malevolently at Harry once he realised who had caused the disturbance.
"250 points from Gryffindor, Potter!" Snape snarled. "Foolish boy, how much more careless could you be?! That is a very expensive ingredient and you will pay the school for a replacement bottle! Furthermore, you will not leave this classroom until it you have not only made your potion, but cleaned up this mess as well!"
Harry blinked up at the Potions master, now used to the heat in the older man's eyes. Snape had been staring at him with a disconcerting heat since Harry had arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place this summer, and since realising this, Harry had begun to get . . . turned on . . . whenever Snape would reprimand him in that silky voice of his.
Okay, maybe turned on was not quite the word for it.
Harder than steel might suffice.
"What are you waiting for?" Snape suddenly roared, jarring Harry out of his thoughts. "You'll need to get a new bottle for your groupmates, and � Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Snape turned to the rest of the class. "Boomslang skin is hardly poisonous, you can touch it with your bare hands!"
The class began to move cautiously back to their tables as Harry headed for the Potions cabinet, and only began to create their potions again when Snape roared, "BACK TO WORK!"
Harry grabbed the few ingredients he needed, including bezoar, which was an odd ingredient to put in a poison, he knew, but the book had been very clear.
So Harry pocketed it and pulled the boomslang skin off the shelf.

*************************************************************************************************
There it was, glistening blue-gold in the phial. Pretty, pretty draught of death.
Harry opened the stopper and took a small whiff of the fragrant potion. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked at the phial that contained his final saviour.
"Bottoms up," he whispered, and set the edge of the phial to his lips.
It was swept away by a sallow, long-fingered hand.
Snape stood in front of him and sniffed at the potion, then eyed Harry. "This is a particularly poisonous potion, Mr. Potter, and there is no known antidote."
Harry looked at the ground and shrugged. "I know, sir."
"I suspected as much. And why, Mr. Potter, are you attempting to commit suicide?"
Harry, eyes still downcast, shrugged.
Then Snape did something Harry would never have expected him to do.
He bent his knees and tipped Harry's chin until he could look the boy in the eye. "This is the easy way out, Mr. Potter. Only spoiled, selfish, ungrateful children consider suicide." Snape spat the insults out harshly. "Whatever else I thought you were, you seemed to be mature. You have proven me wrong. You're an ignorant, selfish, spoiled child!"
Harry winced and bit his lip but didn't disagree.
"Sit," Snape ordered harshly.
Harry sat obediently, too shell-shocked to protest.
"We will remain here, in my classroom, until you explain yourself," Snape said, pulling out a chair and sitting in it, facing Harry.
"We'll sit here forever, then," Harry said defiantly.
At this, Snape simply smirked. "We'll see how long you can go without food. I can go without for a good five days."
Harry merely glared and set his jaw, refusing to drop his eyes from Snape's.

*************************************************************************************************
Several hours later, Harry's eyes were drooping shut. Every time they closed fully, he snapped them open and glared at Snape again until his eyes inevitably tried to close again.
It was rather tedious, really, watching him.
"Mr. Potter," Snape said.
The boy's eyes shot open.
"Do you need a potion to stay awake, or do you have enough control to do it yourself?"
Harry glared malevolently, if sleepily. " 'M in control," he husked, voice distinctly slurred.
"We are not doing this so that you may sleep peacefully, away from the prying eyes of your dormmates, Mr. Potter," Snape snapped. "We are doing this so that I may ascertain the breadth and depth of your inherent foolishness."
Harry merely continued to glare.
After a while, when the boy's eyes started to droop again, Severus asked, "Why do you want to die, Potter?"
"Fuck you," Harry replied.
A few moments passed in stunned silence, then Severus grabbed Harry's upper arm in an iron grip and dragged the struggling boy over to one of the sinks that lined the wall. Effortlessly holding the bucking boy, Severus filled the sink with water and unceremoniously bent Harry forward over the sink, shoving the boy's head into the water until the Harry's cheek touched the bottom with one hand, while he pinned the boy's wrists to his lower back with the other. To prevent kicking, Severus slid one leg in between the boy's, then the other, then scissored his legs open, spreading Harry's legs wide.
With a little moan that he could not control, Severus realised that this position put his cock up against the boy's firm, tight backside. Against his will, he began rubbing his suddenly hard penis on Potter's posterior.
He threaded his fingers into the boy's hair � Harry was too shocked to struggle at the moment � and yanked, dragging the boy up painfully, Severus' hand at such an angle that Potter's head was tilted back painfully, almost enough for Harry to look Severus in the eye. The boy gasped for air and let out a needy little moan before Severus shoved him back under water.
The boy struggled against him, thrashing his head in the sink, splashing water everywhere, moving his hands in panic and trying ineffectually to free his wrists.
At the same time, he was squirming against Severus, which forced him to rub that bottom against Severus' penis and inadvertently drive Severus crazy with lust.
Severus let out another moan as he dragged Harry up for air again.
The boy gasped and opened his mouth. "P-please," he began to beg, but Severus interrupted, dragging Harry up until Severus' lips brushed his earlobe.
"This is what you wanted, Potter. You wanted to die. Here's your chance."
Harry moaned again, a sound Severus would treasure for the rest of his life, as he forced the boy's head back underwater.
The boy did not struggle much this time, did not attempt to push against the hand holding his head underwater, nor did he attempt to free his wrists from the hand holding them firmly against his back.
In fact, Harry's slim hips were the only things moving, alternately rubbing his penis against the hard wood cabinet in front of him beneath the sink, and rubbing Harry's backside against Severus' penis.
Severus gasped in shock and yanked Harry's head out of the sink, then turned away from the boy quickly. Harry gave a gasp of loss and protest as Snape pulled away that made the Potions master 's cock diamond hard.
Severus closed his eyes, and then opened them again when he was under more complete control. It really wouldn't do to throw the boy down and rape him right here and now. Albus would be most put out, and anyway, rape wasn't Severus' thing.
He forced himself to turn around and look at the boy.
Harry was panting, green eyes wide and full of fear and lust, inky black hair dripping wet. He stared at the floor in shock and.
There it was. Severus could tell even through his clothes that the boy was fully erect.
His brain blown, Severus tried to process all the new information.
Harry was a submissive. Well, maybe. It was seemed entirely more possible now than it had just a half hour ago.
"S-sir . . ." Harry began.
Oh, God, *sir*, Severus thought incoherently.
"W-what is . . .?"
"Nothing," Snape spat. "You thought you wanted to die. I proved that you didn't."
Harry looked torn and confused and so, so sexy. "But sir . . ."
"Go," Severus spat. Please . . .
Harry licked his lips and Severus' mind went white.
"Go now! We'll continue this discussion tomorrow afternoon. You have detention, and I will be informing Albus of this."
Harry winced and stared sadly at the ground. "Please don't. I . . . I won't do it again, I swear."
"Fine, fine, just go!" *Go, go, go, I need to*�
Harry bit his lip.
"GO!" Severus roared.
Harry's eyes widened and he ran off.
The door slammed closed and Severus let out a grunt and fairly ran over to the bin. He unzipped his pants and took his cock in hand. Two precise strokes and he groaned his release, and then disposed of the rubbish.
He would find out why the boy was so intent on suicide during tomorrow's detention. For now, however, he would devote his time to creating the most original and horrifying detention he could think of.
He would not think about how pliant and yielding Potter's young body had been.
Not thinking about it at all.

*************************************************************************************************
Harry whimpered as he stumbled down the hall.
He couldn't think about anything but the hot heavy hardness hanging between his legs.
Snape had.
The Potions master had.
He was.
He couldn't be so.
Harry moaned softly and slumped against the wall, mind staggering.
Snape had, had pressed Harry's prone body hard against a cabinet.
Snape had rubbed something long and hard and thick, something unmistakable, against Harry's backside.
Snape had taken control of Harry's body.
Snape had held him under water and let him up for air.
Snape had taken control.
The Potions *master* had *dominated* him.
The sudden, unprompted, spontaneous, *wanton* thought occurred to him and he moaned again and buried his head in his hands as his cock filled even more.
Thankful that he'd gotten the password for the Prefect's bath from Ron earlier that year, he raised himself up onto his feet and headed in that direction, intent on solving his problem in the tub.

*************************************************************************************************
"Potter, you will kill and chop these Blast-Ended Skrewts for the Seventh-Years' lessons tomorrow."
Harry looked up at his professor with wide eyes, then down at the incubated baby Skrewts. "Chop them like flobberworms, sir?"
"Cubes about the size of a sickle, Potter."
"Yes, sir." Harry turned to the lab table and began chopping.
Severus turned back to the potion he was brewing, and they spent the next three hours in relative silence.
"I'm finished, sir," Harry announced, then murmured a drying spell over his freshly washed hands.
"Have a seat," Severus said, and gestured to the chair on the other side of his lab table.
Harry sat and crossed his fingers in his lap.
"Now," Severus said, spelling his own hands clean and dry wordlessly, "You will tell me why you felt the need to take your own life."
Harry rolled his eyes and then glared at the older man.
Severus nodded sharply, once. "Fine. I will Floo the Headmaster. Perhaps you will tell him?"
"No!" Harry cried.
Severus paused. "No? Simpering coward." Bait the hook . . .
Harry gritted his teeth. "I am not a coward," he ground out.
Severus laughed as he rose and moved around the desk, and then lunged down in front of the boy until they were nose to nose. "What would you call what you did yesterday? A cry for help? When you knew everyone would be at the dance?"
"No�"
"Because all I see in front of me is a scared, selfish, stupid child who thinks of no one but himself! Do you think that your petty little problems are any more serious than anyone else's?"
"I think that no one else is expected to kill a Dark Lord all by himself!"
Severus snorted and turned away. "I see. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Wanted People to Feel Sorry for Him. I'm surprised a gloryhound like yourself did not even leave a note."
"I am not a gloryhound," Potter spat. "I hate being famous."
"And you don't think the first suicide at Hogwarts in over three hundred years would boost your fame to its highest level? And what about your friends, Potter? How would Granger and Weasley deal with the sudden fame of having their famous best friend commit suicide right under their noses?"
Harry opened his mouth angrily, and then shut it, unable to think of a thing to defend that.
"And Professor Dumbledore? Didn't you think about him, and how guilty he would feel for not noticing how depressed you'd gotten? Did you think about anyone but yourself, you selfish little spoiled brat?" . . . cast the line . . .
"Yes," the boy whispered.
Severus snorted again. "Liar."
"I was!" Potter insisted more loudly.
"Bullshit!"
Potter banged his fist on the table. "I was thinking of other people! Everything around me turns to shit, everyone who loves me dies! I thought I was saving them from that!"
Severus slammed his palms on the desk, bending over it. "Suicide isn't about helping other people, Potter, it's about helping yourself! Tell me, and don't lie! Why did you want to kill yourself?"
"Because I can't take it anymore!" Potter screamed, and collapsed on the floor, very still.
. . . reel him in.
Severus knelt down and, with gentleness he hadn't known he possessed, he placed his hand on Potter's back. "Can't take what?" he said softly, and Potter looked up.
Stared at him.
Looked back at the floor.
Whispered, "All this responsibility."
"It's a lot for a child to deal with," Severus agreed. "But you rarely ask for help." Severus reached for the boy's right hand and examined it, then brushed a thumb over the thin scar on his hand. `I will not tell lies' in Harry's tilted, messy penmanship. "This would not be here if you had only gone to Albus."
Harry snatched his hand back. "Only children ask for help. I'm not a child."
"Bullshit you're not a child. So you've had no one to take care of you your whole life. Many children haven't, what makes you so special?"
Harry shook his head and looked at the ground, then whispered, "Nothing."
"You're so wrong, Mr. Potter."
Harry's head shot up, but Severus had already stood and moved away. "Part of being an adult is knowing when something is beyond your capacity to handle, knowing when to ask for help. Knowing when to hand control over to someone else."
Harry opened his mouth to speak.
"Hush, Potter. Go and think on our time together, and think about what I have said. Dismissed."
With that, Snape collected the papers he wanted to finish correcting and headed out of his office.
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