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Nights of Gethsemane	By : starcrossedkayla Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 53272 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
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[[Author notes: This is the first story I ever wrote when I decided to learn how to write by writing fanfiction. It's been about two years since then and I've learnt loads from the help of so many wonderful readers. I still have a lot to learn and I'm still editing this story (it's all written out, but I'll take any advice on it), so please feel free to comment on any aspect of it! I love to learn and I know I've made mistakes.

Two of my friends made a musical paraody of my fic: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TFg9IJ6dEU

I could not have done this without the help of many amazing people. I have had way too many helpers to name all of them, but an especially big thanks to tasha18, Rai, isilel, Jessica, Jon, Angia, and Georgia who really picked apart this story and pointed out where it needed extra help. And thank you very, very much to all the readers and reviewers who helped teach me how to write.]]

He woke in a room that was far too bright. He shut his eyes before giving waking a second chance. The next glance revealed a room still painfully white. He stared at the ceiling until he remembered that he wore glasses. He attempted to sit up in order to look for them, but his limbs were far too heavy to move. He closed his eyes and rested before his third attempt.

This time, he was able to sit up. He immediately regretted doing so as his vision swam and red joined white in a confusing dance. After a few minutes, his brain finally made sense of the dizzying swirl of colours and he became aware of the fact that he was resting on a crimson bed in a white room. After that, he realized he was naked.

�Why am I naked?� he asked. He ran his hands down his chest and over his legs to make sure they really belonged to him. Fresh scars, bruises, and dried blood liberally covered nearly every inch he could see. He tried to make his legs obey him but they didn�t want to move. He collapsed back on the bed and attempted to gather his thoughts. He remembered his name: Harry Potter. He remembered what he was: a wizard. Everything else was sort of blurry.

�Accio glasses,� he murmured but nothing happened. He opened his eyes to examine his hands in case the fault lay there and was startled to find manacles below his wrists. They were made of metal that looked silvery to his fuzzy vision. Harry ran his fingers around the bumpy surface of the one on his left wrist and found four half rings which ran parallel to his arm. They were evenly spaced from each other and just large enough to allow his pinky finger to slide through up to the first knuckle. He explored the rest of his body to make sure he wasn�t wearing something else strange but he didn�t find anything. As his fingers ran over the recently healed scars, he wondered why he didn�t ache all over. He poked at a particularly nasty looking bruise he discovered on his upper right arm without any feeling of pain.

After he grew bored of prodding his bruises and cuts, he attempted to get out of bed again. This time, his legs obeyed him and he was able to stumble over to a sink although he had to grab onto it as soon as he reached it in order to stay on his feet. He noticed coloured blobs resting along the narrow shelf behind the faucet and, clutching the sink with one hand, touched each one in turn, discovering a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, soap, and a comb. He turned on the taps and let the water run over his fingers for a minute before closing them and examining the toilet which was next to the sink, along with a white fluffy towel and toilet paper.

Harry flushed the toilet to make sure it worked and then attempted to look around the room again. There appeared to be one white wall that was striped with black bars while the floor, the ceiling, and all the other walls were dazzling white. He saw what appeared to be a dark wooden table and two matching chairs. Harry stumbled over to them and took a moment to rest in one of the chairs. It was surprisingly soft for seeming to have been made out of wood. He ran his fingers over the gentle curves and wished he had his glasses.

Once he caught his breath and his limbs stopped shaking, Harry got to his feet and approached the striped wall. As he moved closer he became aware that what his brain had interpreted as stripes were actually bars. He grabbed onto the two nearest to him and wondered where the hell he was. He forced his protesting limbs into movement as he stumbled around the room trying to find an exit.

Memories of his two best friends flooded into his brain �I have to get out of here! Ron! Hermione!� He remembered that he was supposed to be with them but little else. Where was he? How had he gotten here? Where had his friends gone?

He stumbled back over to the bars and tried to use magic and strength to tear them from their foundations. �Let me out of here!� He yanked hard on the bars but they remained immobile. A healed cut on his arm split open but he didn�t feel pain even as blood dripped to the floor.

�Calm down, Potter. You will only give yourself more injuries at this rate.� The voice flowed over him and ignited something in his brain.

�Snape!� Harry squinted at the black blob that was moving towards him on the opposite side of the bars. All he could see was black with a tiny splash of white near the top. Snape stopped about five feet away from him. Harry gaped up at him as his brain tried to remember who Snape was and how he should react to seeing him. He had the feeling he didn�t like him which was only intensified when Snape slowly looked him up and down, his head moving slightly as he examined Harry. Harry stared at Snape and Snape stared at Harry; the quiet of the room only interrupted by the soft patter of blood.

�You are a mess.�

Harry glanced down at himself and suddenly realized he was naked. He yelped and scurried back over to the bed, snatching one of the crimson sheets off and wrapping it around his torso like a toga. �Why am I naked, you pervert!?�

Snape clicked his tongue in disagreement. �I am not attracted to under developed little boys-�

�I�m not��

�-I simply made the mistake of assuming you were competent enough as a wizard to spell pockets into your clothing in order to hide artefacts. I destroyed those rags as a precaution. Now, you will come with me and take a bath. Scorgify can only clean so much, and I've no desire for you to smear blood and dirt about my rooms. Do not try and resist -- you are in no position to fight my magic as you are.�

A bath sounded wonderful, very relaxing. A part of Harry�s brain screamed at him to stay far away from Snape but the majority of him was focused on the mental picture that had popped up when Snape first said the word �bath.� He saw himself resting in a tub filled with warm water. He stood up, clutching his toga in fisted hands, and walked over to Snape. The bars parted for him and he stepped through.

�First door on your right,� commanded Snape although he seemed a bit surprised that Harry did not object to the idea of a bath. Harry plodded down the short hallway which had a door on the left and two doors on the right. He opened the one nearest to him and stepped into a rather nice bathroom. A plush dark blue bathmat spread wide across the floor, matching towels on a narrow rack. He saw another toilet and sink in this room although these were cut out of marble. A wide mirror rose above the sink and reflected a large cabinet which was made of wood the same colour as the table in his room. He heard Snape step in the room behind him and close the door. There was a twist of a faucet and water began to fill the tub.

�Stop gawking and get in,� snapped Snape.

Harry unwrapped his sheet and stepped into the warm water. He lowered himself carefully, his limbs still shaky and difficult to control. Once he had settled himself he peered up at Snape who was leaning against the wall between the sink and the cabinet. �Are you going to bathe too?�

There was a long silence before Snape answered, �Of course not, I�m only here to make sure you don�t kill yourself.�

�Why would I do that?� Harry wondered in confusion as he grabbed a flannel and rubbed it against the soap.

Snape didn�t answer.

�Oh, d�you mean this?� He gestured to the recently opened cut on his arm which had finally stopped bleeding. �It doesn�t hurt at all. Nothing hurts.�

�I plied you with a very ample dose of painkillers. Quite frankly, I�m amazed you are able to walk right now, but you�ve always been annoyingly stubborn and unable to know when you should just sit down and shut up,� grumbled Snape.

�I am sitting now,� Harry pointed out.

�Then perhaps you should work on the second part.�

Harry ran the wash cloth over his body and tried to gather his thoughts. �Snape, Snape, Snape. I remember the name but not much else��

Snape moved to kneel by the edge of the tub. �Maybe you hit your head harder than we thought.� He lifted his hand to touch the left side of Harry�s skull above his ear. Pain thrummed through Harry�s head and he could tell that it would have been excruciating without the painkillers. �Ow! That hurt.�

Snape moved to the cabinet which opened with a softly cast spell. Harry twisted to try to see what was inside but all he could make out were many differently coloured objects. Snape removed six vials and carried them over. He lined four of them up on the edge of the tub. Harry admired them and reached out a hand to touch one when Snape slapped his hand and opened the thin red vial. �Drink, and don�t spill a drop.�

Harry obediently quaffed the potion. It burned down his throat and immediately spread a dull fire throughout his body. He coughed and sputtered but Snape pressed a thick, short blue vial into his hand. �Now drink this.�

Harry shook his head and tried to catch his breath but Snape clamped his fingers over Harry�s nose and poured the thick liquid down his throat. The fingers holding the vial pressed up against Harry�s chin as soon as all the contents had been spilled into his mouth and he was forced to swallow all of the liquid before he was allowed breath again. The second vial�s contents didn�t seem to cause any reaction as far as Harry could tell. When Snape uncorked the third, similar in shape and size to the second but dark green in colour, Harry knew better to resist and drank it as quickly as his throat would allow. That one seemed to make every inch of his skin itch although the obnoxious feeling passed before long.

The final vial was as thick as his wrist and half as long. It contained a milky white substance that smelled like wet rags. Harry held his nose as he darted out his tongue to taste it. Luckily, it didn�t taste nearly half as bad as it smelled and he tried to drink it as rapidly as he could.

Snape returned to his position on the far wall. �Your memories should return shortly after you finish that potion. If you fail to remember who I am after that, I will assume the head injury is permanent.�

�That�s bad, right?� asked Harry between gulps. When Snape didn�t answer he shrugged and finished off the vial. He set the vial carefully down. �I don�t think it wo-� He was interrupted when his brain seemed to explode. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep it in as his hands flew to try and hold his skull in place. His lungs burned and all he felt was fire before darkness overcame him.
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Nights of Gethsemane