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Saturday, October 30, 1998 ---- 6:45 p.m.
"Mmm, that was good," said Harry hours later as he lay naked on top of the covers, stretching. "I guess it's true what they say about make-up sex."
Severus hid his smile. He knew what people said, of course. And now he knew that it was true. That was something he'd learned today, however. Never before had he had any one lover long enough to find out just how good make-up sex could be.
Somehow, it seemed right that he should be learning that with Harry alone.
"I'm starving," Harry suddenly announced. "How about we go into Hogsmeade for dinner?"
"Weren't you there for lunch? With your friends?"
Harry gave him a sidelong glance as he moved to sit cross-legged on the rumpled bed. "No. What would make you think that?"
"You weren't in the Great Hall."
"You went looking for me?"
Severus had, actually. When Harry hadn't come down for lunch, Severus had surreptitiously checked in the upstairs rooms, and then the Great Hall. To explain all that, though, would give too much away. "It's customary for staff to eat with the students after each Quidditch match. Surely you recall as much."
Harry laughed. "I guess I never noticed. Anyway, Ron and Hermione and I skipped lunch to have a chat. Well, so they could talk some sense into me, more like. I was pretty upset."
"No wonder you're starving."
"Oh. Er . . . well, I did have a little something later on. In Dumbledore's office."
Severus suddenly found himself bunching up the blankets and dragging them across his own bent legs. "You went to Albus to complain about me?"
"I never did that even when I was a student and you were being the world's biggest git," Harry said, his smile sliding towards sarcasm. "What makes you think I would start now?"
Severus shrugged. "You're right. It's far more your habit to refuse to lean on anyone else, even when the situation warrants it. And so?"
"Hermione suggested I use the pensieve."
"Ah."
"But enough of that," said Harry, his green eyes gleaming in a way that said he was consciously forcing it from his mind. "What about Hogsmeade?"
Severus had been pleased before by the invitation, though he'd been careful not to show it. Harry's insistence was even more heartening. He truly wanted to go out with Severus. And what was more, go out here where they could be seen together.
Of course, they would be going as colleagues, not lovers. But that was all right. Harry had a right to a private life, after all. And Severus never had wanted his own affairs making their way into the scandal rags.
"Tonight would be best for Hogsmeade," he said, nodding. "Since tomorrow is Halloween."
"Yeah. Crap," said Harry, surprising Severus. "I guess you mean that we have to join in the festivities in the Great Hall?"
"It's expected, though I doubt Albus would say anything about it if we didn't attend "
"No." Harry sighed. "It's part of the job. I understand that. And I'll remember about lunch with the students after the next match, too. So yeah, let's go out tonight. Three Broomsticks, you think?"
"I know some better restaurants, if you'll permit me," said Severus. "Not the quality of cuisine we got in Paris or Venice, of course, but--"
"But those won't do," said Harry. "I want people to start figuring out we're friends. I don't mind them knowing that, now. And anyway, it'll make things easier, later."
"Later?"
"After he's dead." Harry sighed again, standing up to pad over to the bathroom door. "You heard what the Sorting Hat said. It'll all come out, about me being your slave. And when it does, if people think I still hate you, things are bound to be more difficult. For you, I'm thinking. Though I don't want anybody's pity, either. I hate that."
Severus turned to regard Harry. "So, this is strategy, is it?"
Harry nodded. "Did you think that only Slytherins had heard of that, Severus? Though come to think of it, the Hat did want to put me in Slytherin. Don't think I ever mentioned that to you."
Severus chuckled as he stood up. "Not terribly significant. If the Hat had wanted you in my house, it would have placed you there."
"Well, I talked my way out of it."
"I doubt that."
"I did!"
"I'm sure it seemed so to you," said Severus in his smoothest voice. It seemed to work; Harry visibly calmed. "But you wouldn't have been placed in Gryffindor unless you were more suited to go there."
"Or unless the Hat knew something. About what was coming, about . . . you know, all this." Harry gave a vague wave. "I mean, if I'd been in your house you might have--"
"What?" Severus could hardly believe his ears. "Come to think of you as a son, is that what you were going to say?"
"No, I was going to say that you might have killed me."
Oh. Well, that was better, then. For a moment, Severus had been afraid that his sentimental side had been showing too clearly. Not that he really had a sentimental side, but when it came to Harry, he wasn't entirely unmoved, either.
Oh, what was the use? Severus could pretend all he liked, to himself and Harry both, and the facts would still remain. He was besotted with Harry.
With a teenager.
"Let's have a shower and then be off to Hogsmeade," said Harry, dropping the subject of the Sorting Hat. Just as well. Severus really didn't want to contemplate what seven years in Slytherin would have done to Harry. Why would he? He liked Harry the way he was.
Monday, November 1, 1998 ---- 7:15 a.m.
"Time to get up," said Severus, shaking Harry's shoulder.
"Tired," mumbled Harry, rolling over and thrusting his face into a pillow. The one Severus had been using.
Severus was disturbed to find that he liked that image even before Harry breathed in deeply and sighed in obvious pleasure.
"What happened to your insistence that you have to obey me?"
Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes, then flashed Severus a grin that could only be termed cocky. "I think that's what got me so knackered in the first place, eh? You really know how to put a man through his paces."
"Yes, I can see how worn out you are," drawled Severus, glancing pointedly at Harry's hardening cock.
"Can't help it. You're hot," said Harry in a matter-of-fact voice. "And what you do to me is hot. And makes me feel like I'm hot. I bet our powers have crossed even more. How can they not have, after that second blowjob last night, not to mention the--"
"Up," ordered Severus. "My students are brewing some rather explosive potions this morning. I have to arrive there clear-headed, not overly relaxed because of the afterglow."
Harry grinned. "I like afterglow. So, when are we going to test our powers again?"
"In a few days."
Harry rubbed his hands together. "All right. Sure you don't want me come down to your office again? I mean, this time I won't be sarcastic when I offer you a nice, long, wet--"
"Perhaps you could get up."
"Oh, I'll get it up, don't you worry--"
"Harry--"
"Yeah, all right. Fine." Harry bounded out of bed, his exhaustion apparently forgotten.
Tuesday, November 2, 1998 ---- 2:27 p.m.
"And this section, Potter?"
Harry briefly went over what the class had covered.
Bryerson nodded. "That all seems in order, then. Did you mark their tests?"
"Yes. Top right drawer."
"Good." Bryerson smiled, the expression tired. "I don't know how I would have managed without you, Potter. You did very well, taking over my classes on such short notice."
Harry hadn't done very well, of course. Not with Bole. But he wasn't going to mention that unless Bryerson brought it up. "I'm sure they'll be glad to have a proper professor back," he said. "Er . . . sorry, I meant to ask before, but we've been so swamped . . . your fiancée's improving, then?"
"Yes. Close call, that. She's discontinuing her apprenticeship until after she delivers. Just plain bad luck that her pregnancy reacted badly to certain wand cores. Normally, pregnant witches have no trouble training to be wandmakers."
That was more information than Harry knew what to do with. "Er . . . so when is she due?"
"Mid-July." Bryerson stretched. "Well, here they come, Potter. Sure you wouldn't like to take a few days off to make up for having had to fill in for me?"
Harry was tempted. Very tempted, considering this was Bole's class. But that would be running away, Harry thought, frowning as he remembered Severus' words on that subject.
Besides, Bole had to be faced sooner or later. It might as well be today.
"Can I take a rain check on the time off?"
"Of course."
All in all, class went well, though Harry couldn't help but notice that some of the students were definitely wary of him. Not Bole, though. He looked up at Harry when Bryerson's back was turned, and sneered. When Harry did nothing about it, Bole must have figured that his Head of House had had words with Harry, and Harry had caved. As far as Bole was concerned, he had free rein to do as he pleased.
Well, within the limits of what Bryerson would tolerate, of course.
For his part, Harry was determined to handle things well, this time around. No more pretending Bole didn't exist, but no more picking on him, either. The second part of that was difficult; Bryerson's presence didn't do a thing to alleviate Harry's anger. But at least now, the thinking part of Harry's mind knew that the anger was misplaced.
Charles Bole might be annoying--hell, was damned annoying--but he hadn't done anything to justify the murderous rage Harry felt every time he looked his way.
Harry kept telling himself that as he circled the classroom, helping students with their duelling stances. He was careful to help the Slytherins as much as the Gryffindors, even though when it came to duelling, the Slytherins actually needed less help. It seemed obvious that a number of them had already participated in practice duels at home.
Including Charles Bole.
Still, Harry pressed on, drawing close to the boy to examine the angle of his feet and hips as he stood with wand drawn. "A little more extension of the wrist," Harry said in a level voice.
Bole adjusted his stance, but just as Harry was veering away, whispered something under his breath.
Harry whipped around again. Treat Bole as you would any other student. Well, Harry wouldn't put up with any other student calling him an arsehole, would he? "Five points from Slytherin for language," he calmly replied to the insult.
Bole's eyes went wide as he sputtered, "But you can't! I'll tell Snape, I will--"
"Go ahead."
Bole started sulking, then.
"Problem?"
Huh. Harry hadn't known that Bryerson was so near. Well, nothing like taking the wand by the grip. "No, Professor. I have it under control."
Bryerson looked as though he respected that, but he'd heard more than he'd let on. "Professor Snape doesn't run this class, Bole," he said in a stern voice. "Potter and I do. So you'll answer to us, not your Head of House, if we hear any more vulgarities. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," muttered Bole. He threw Harry a hateful look as he said it, but he didn't say anything else disrespectful. Not then, and not during the rest of the lesson.
Harry felt like that was five points well taken, and he had a feeling that Severus would agree.
Wednesday, November 3, 1998 ---- 9:27 p.m.
"Victory's gone to their heads," said Harry dryly as Severus sat behind him, rubbing his shoulders. Oh, that did feel good, and not just because Severus was using a deep-heating salve. The man knew how to use his hands. And the thought that he only used them on Harry, now . . . that shouldn't matter, he thought. But it did. "They ran me ragged tonight out on the pitch. I may have created a monster."
"The Hufflepuff team?" Severus chuckled.
Their conversation was cut short by a spark of flame in the Floo. A moment later, Albus' face appeared in the hearth. He didn't bat an eyelid to see Harry sitting there shirtless, with Severus' hands on him. "May I come through? There's been another attack."
"Yes, of course," murmured Severus, handing Harry's shirt to him.
Harry wasted no time doing up his buttons.
"Cornwall, this time," said Albus, starting to pace. "The home of a half-blood who'd married a Muggle. I thought I'd come tell you myself, before you read the speculation in the papers."
Harry swallowed. "Speculation?"
Albus met his eyes squarely, the blue in his own looking faded. Looking . . . old. "About you, my boy. About how you must have been spared, all those years ago, for a reason."
Harry went stiff with shock. "They don't even know about the latest prophecy, and they still expect me to be the one to save them?"
"Events do seem to revolve around you," murmured the headmaster. "May I?" He sat down before he got any reply. "Now, Harry, it's not my wish to pressure you. Please do believe me about that. But I do hope you can tell me if you've made any more progress toward crossing your powers with those of Severus?"
"Not really." Harry swallowed again. "I've been working on it, though. Really hard. I mean, I've been doing everything I can. Really, I have."
"Oh, I don't doubt you in the slightest," said Albus, nodding as he sat there, his floppy hat looking more ludicrous then usual. "I have the utmost faith in you, my boy. In both of you, I should say. I wouldn't have mentioned this attack at all if not for the fact that you were bound to read about it in the press, as I said."
"We appreciate your consideration, Headmaster," said Severus in a heavy tone. "And now, if you don't mind, I think Harry and I would like to discuss this, alone."
"Oh, of course, of course." Albus made his way back to the Floo.
"Maybe our powers have crossed more than we realise," Harry said as soon as he was gone. "We haven't tested that in a few days."
"Be my guest." Harry noticed that Severus sat down as soon as he'd said it. Preparing himself for the surge of weakness that struck whenever Harry cast a spell drawing on Severus' magic as well as his own.
"Sure we shouldn't go up to the Room of Requirement for this?"
Severus' eyes looked dark and thoughtful as he shook his head.
Harry thought it was a little strange, but he was tired enough not to wonder about it much. Or care, really. He'd just as soon not floo up, let alone go there on foot.
As it turned out, there was no need to, in any case. Their powers were definitely crossing . . . but no more so than before. His levitation charm was strong enough to lift the chair with Severus still in it, but he couldn't hold it up for very long. That was progress, he supposed. A year ago he'd have had trouble levitating anything heavier than a pile of books. But it wasn't as much power as he was going to need.
In fact, it was nowhere near enough. Harry dropped into a chair, slouching. "Damn."
Severus sounded more-or-less philosophical about the matter. "It will take more time."
"We haven't got any!"
"Yes, we have."
"How many died tonight, Severus? And how many more before I manage to get this right?"
"I told you from the first that maturing the spell would be a process." Severus steepled his fingers and seemed to lean on them, slightly. "It simply can't be rushed, Harry. And the fact that the Dark Lord is moving forward with his own strategy . . . that is not your responsibility. Nor your fault."
Harry realised he was grinding his teeth together. "Well, we just have to do more, then. That's all there is to it."
"More?"
For a moment, Harry could have sworn that Severus sounded almost keen on something, which was strange, considering that Harry knew how he felt.
"More obedience! I swear, it'd be worth not taking points no matter what Bole does, if it would mean our powers would cross more."
"I approve of your taking points when he's truly out of line," said Severus evenly. "I would hope you know that."
"Yeah, I know it," muttered Harry. "But about the obedience. I think we'd better go after that like never before. I'll be your devoted little slave-boy, right? That's got to be worth something. Or what did we do all this for, anyway?"
Severus didn't answer for a long moment. But then his voice came, heavy with some emotion Harry couldn't define. Or maybe he just didn't want to. All he knew was that he was awfully tired. He wanted this over. He wanted Voldemort defeated, once and for all, so that he could get on with his life.
Not that he could really get on with it, of course. He'd still be Severus' slave. But at least he wouldn't feel like doom was lurking around every corner and it was up to him to stop it.
Maybe that was how Severus was feeling, too. Maybe that was why his voice was so . . . burdened. So heavy. Odd, considering what he said.
"Come over here then," Severus sighed, unfastening his trousers as he spoke. "And suck me down to the root."
Sunday, November 22, 1998 ---- 8:14 p.m.
The past few weeks hadn't done much to further the crossing of their powers, Severus thought, his chin propped up on a hand as he watched Harry try yet another spell. By then, Severus was used to the sudden surge of weakness that rushed through him as his powers--part of them, at any rate--were siphoned off by the force ofCambiare Podentes. He'd decided it was best to be sitting down whenever Harry tested spells.
That way, Harry didn't become nearly as alarmed at the effect those spells were having on Severus.
Not that the effect was anything to be unduly concerned about. A weakness in the knees, a spot of dizziness, though on a couple of occasions Severus had thought he might faint from the sudden loss of magic. Quite a shock to the system, it was. At first, Severus had wondered how the wizards who had constructed Podentes could have been so careless. What master wizard would want to put up with bouts of weakness like this?
But then, of course, he'd realised the truth. The ancient wizards probably hadn't experienced anything like the sudden reeling feeling Severus was getting whenever Harry drew magic from him. Podentes, after all, had been constructed with a very weak wizard in mind. A near-squib, in fact. And someone with limited magic like that probably couldn't have drawn very heavily on his master's power. Wizards with normal levels of power would never have considered entering an enslavement spell.
And Harry could hardly be called a near-squib. He was innately strong. A Patronus before he'd earned so much as a single OWL?
Magically speaking, Harry Potter was a force to be reckoned with, so perhaps it only stood to reason that when their power crossed, Severus would feel the loss quite distinctly.
Actually, that was a bit worrisome, given that their powers thus far had crossed only slightly. What would it be like when the bond between them had fully matured?
Severus didn't know, but he knew better than to speculate in front of Harry. The last thing he needed was for Harry to do some idiotically Gryffindor noble thing, like hesitate in battle against the Dark Lord, just because attacking him properly might have a detrimental effect on Severus.
It might have some effect, to be sure, but what was certain was that if Harry lost in battle, the Dark Lord would be entirely free to wreak his vengeance against Severus. And there was no doubt what the effect of that would be, was there?
So this weakness--in fact, this inability to use his magic for the brief spans when Harry was casting--it was the lesser of two evils, definitely.
"Nothing!" said Harry in a peevish voice as he flopped onto the bed that had suddenly appeared in the Room of Requirement. Interesting . . . Severus hadn't been feeling particularly inclined, and it didn't look as though Harry was, either. Perhaps the bed just meant that Harry wanted to lie down.
"I wouldn't say that Aguamenti blasting water with enough force to polish the stones is nothing."
Harry cast him a baleful glance. "You think I'm going to win against him by using waterspout spells? I don't care how strong they are, they're not enough. They're so far from enough that they are nothing!"
Harry had a point there, but Severus merely shrugged. "How often do I have to tell you that it will take more time? And don't say again that we haven't any."
"Of course I won't," said Harry in a slightly snide voice. Or perhaps he was just tired of the routine they'd established. "I do every last thing you say, these days. I was sure that total obedience would get us there faster! Well, maybe we just need even more still. You do have a kitchen, although we don't use it much. And believe it or not, I know a fair bit about cooking. Couldn't avoid learning that, not where I grew up. So I'll start making breakfast from scratch every morning instead of relying on the table, and I can probably manage dinner too, though that'll be easier once the new term starts after Christmas and all the lessons are in the morning. Oh, crap.That'll interfere with breakfast, and lunch is out of the question except on weekends--"
Severus had been too tired to cut him off earlier. Actually, hearing how Harry's mind worked could sometimes be illuminating. Enough was enough, however. "I don't want you to cook my meals."
"But you could tell me what you fancy, and that'd be more submission, see?"
I could tell him what I fancy, thought Severus, the words sardonic even in his own head. Yes, he could, but it would have nothing to do with the pleasures to be had from food. It would also most likely be counter-productive. What Severus fancied, of course, was to bury himself inside Harry's fit young arse. He'd be tight, Severus knew that much. He'd be a delicious bottom.
But he wouldn't be that now, clearly, and for Severus to mention it would only set them back. When Harry was ready to hear what Severus really wanted, he would ask, instead of hatching these asinine ideas about obedience and submission. They weren't working, because of course they weren't the point of Cambiare Podentes, not at all. The spell was keying itself to Severus' level of satisfaction with Harry. And since what Severus wanted was sex--lots of willing, enthusiastic sex with his handsome young lover--that was what the bond was attuned to.
Having Harry play at being a kitchen slave was completely useless. Actually, having him play at anything wasn't going to help, either. He had to want it. He had to participate. He had to ask Severus to fuck that tight arse, with Severus' cock, plunging in and out. And what was more, he had to enjoy it.
Because that, and nothing less, was what Severus wanted from him.
Severus hadn't understood in perfect detail how the spell would work, not in advance, but now it was clear to him. Their powers had first begun to cross when Harry had overcome his reluctance to have sex at all. Of course they had; Severus had been deeply pleased by that development. And then within the next few days after that, they had established a high level of sexual rapport. Blowjobs, handjobs, frottage . . . twice a day, three times a day, all the time. As much sex as Severus could possibly want, and Harry enjoying it every bit as much as Severus himself. Harry taking the initiative, coaxing Severus to arousal again just scant hours after a very satisfactory orgasm . . .
With all that in place, their powers had crossed still further.
Again, because Severus had been deeply, deeply pleased.
But now, there was nothing left to increase his delight and pleasure in Harry except one thing. The most difficult thing of all.
Harry bottoming . . . Severus practically salivated at the thought of it, but he wasn't about to force the issue. Not physically, and not verbally, either.
When Harry was ready to hear what Severus really wanted from him, when Harry asked what it would take to cross their powers fully, then that would be the time to tell him. Because then, he would be ready to hear it. Or at least, as ready as he could be.
But as long as he prattled on hiding behind delusions that obedience in kitchen duties could make any difference to their situation, he clearly wasn't ready to hear the truth.
"So how about tomorrow, eh?" Harry met his eyes. "Waffles, you think? Oh, wait. You probably don't have a waffle iron. I could go down to the kitchen to see how the elves manage."
Severus wasn't about to tell Harry that what he wanted served up was Harry's arse, high in the air, but neither was he prepared to stand by while Harry turned himself into some species of elf. Considering Harry's abysmal childhood, that would breed the kind of resentment they didn't need between them.
"I absolutely forbid you to cook for me," he said in a firm voice.
"But--"
"I thought you were resolved to obey me. No cooking."
"All right, fine." Harry sighed, shifting to sit up on the bed. "Well, then . . ."
For a moment, Severus' heart almost skipped a beat. He was sure, almost sure, that Harry was about to ask the question Severus had been waiting for. What do you want, then?
But Harry didn't ask that, because deep inside, he knew the answer already, and wasn't prepared to face it.
"I guess you'd better come over here for a nice, long massage and blow, you think?" asked Harry.
"Is that why the bed appeared, because you were intending to offer?"
"Nah, just knackered." Harry yawned, covering his mouth only haphazardly. He did indeed look exhausted.
"Does casting using both our powers drain you, too?" Severus came over to the bed and stood beside it, looking down at Harry. "That's new."
"Not that." Harry rolled over. "Things have just been hectic lately, now that Quidditch competition is underway. The teams want longer practices, and ever since Hufflepuff won, they've all got this daft idea that I can give them the edge that'll make the difference."
"That's hardly a daft idea."
"Thanks," said Harry, smiling slightly. "But what I meant is that I feel like I'm getting pulled four ways. It's exhausting."
"Tell them no."
"I did." Reaching out, Harry caught one of Severus' hands and pulled him onto the bed. "Slytherin wanted me to coach them on Saturday mornings, and I told them to forget it."
Severus chuckled slightly. "Oh, but if it's Slytherin asking . . ."
"Ha, ha. Very funny." Harry scowled. "The truth is, I wouldn't even mind doing an occasional Saturday session for one of the teams, but if I do it for one, they'll all demand the same consideration."
"You were quite right to refuse, of course."
Harry nodded, the motion looking determined, somehow. "So that leaves me with just enough extra energy to suck you off," he joked, his fingers going to the buttons on Severus' trousers.
Severus could tell that his heart wasn't really in it. "Sometimes it's nice to simply hold your lover, you know," he said, brushing Harry's hands away. He urged Harry to his back, and lying down himself, settled Harry in against his side, facing him, Harry's head on Severus' shoulder. "You don't have to offer me sex all the time," he added. "When you want me . . . that's when I want to hear as much."
"Mmmm," said Harry, nudging Severus slightly, then cuddling up closer. "Yeah. All right."
They lay there quietly for a few minutes, Severus watching with amusement as the room tried to arrange itself to suit them. The lights dimmed, and then a few candles appeared and lit themselves, putting out a gentle, soothing glow. From somewhere came the soft sound of a piano playing.
"--going to do. You have any ideas?"
Severus broke himself out of his thoughts, realising that Harry had been murmuring something to him. "Come again?"
"Ha. Very funny . . . uh, I was saying that Slytherin's match is this next Saturday and I wanted to watch it with you but if you sit in Slytherin it'll look like I'm taking a side, I think. So I guess we can't sit together, unless you have any bright ideas?"
The simplest solution would be for Harry to sit elsewhere, of course. But Severus was finding that he liked the idea of Harry choosing to be at his side for something other than meals. In the Great Hall, it merely looked as though he'd been assigned to sit there. But if Harry and he sat together for the match, that would look to one and all like Harry's free choice.
Harry might not be ready to let the world know that they were lovers, but he was ready to admit that they were friends. That meant something, Severus thought. More than it should, most likely. He almost told Harry to go sit with Albus.
But no, he wanted Harry at his side. Wanted it enough, in fact, to suggest:
"If you sit with me, the Slytherins will assume you want them to win, which is all to the good in terms of your working relationship with them. They don't want an even-handed coach, you understand."
"What about the Gryffindors?"
Severus smiled. "Oh, honestly, Harry. You ought to know how they think by now. Just tell them that you were sitting with me in order to sound me out about a few of the players. Their personal weaknesses, that sort of thing. So the other teams will be better able to win against Slytherin. You'll be everybody's hero."
"I'm sick of being that."
"Yes, I know you are."
"Wish the stupid Prophet would shut up, already. I'm doing everything I can."
"Yes, you are."
"Not my fault he attacks somewhere new every week and people are getting hurt and killed," said Harry, a sentiment which would have been wonderful to hear if it hadn't been delivered in such a defensive tone. Clearly, Harry did think it was his fault. On some level, at least.
Severus frowned. He'd have to do something about that. Something more than just saying that Harry bore no responsibility. Words alone weren't going to be enough. Not with someone as stubborn as Harry about accepting guilt that wasn't his. Merlin's balls, the man even blamed himself for Cedric Diggory!
"What about Saturday's Quidditch match, Harry?" The best Severus could manage at the moment was to provide a distraction. "Shall we sit together in the Slytherin section?"
"Oh . . . good plan, I think. " Harry yawned and snuggled closer. 'Night, Severus."
"You're more tired than I thought. Home and bed for you, I think." Severus tugged until Harry sat up. "Come on."
Harry looked doubtfully at the Floo, and then at the door. "Um . . ."
"Hang onto me as we floo down," suggested Severus.
"Yeah . . . all right. Um, once we get home, are you sure you don't want something?"
"Do you really want to offer?"
Harry winced, just slightly. "Er, no. Too knackered. I mean, it's great and all, but just not today. Or again today, I mean."
"And what did I tell you from the first? The first day you were truly mine?"
Harry shrugged. "A lot of things."
"That you can say no. In fact, I want you to, if you aren't in the mood. Crossing powers doesn't change that. If you think about it, our crossing powers really means that you doing what I want is all the more important."
Severus let the hint hang in the air, but as he'd thought, Harry wasn't ready to hear what he was saying.
"Great," he said, yawning again as he stepped over the wide hearth, his hand resting on Severus' arm. "Sleep it is, then."
Severus managed not to sigh. Out loud, at least.
Saturday, December 5, 1998 ---- 9:01 a.m.
Harry slammed the newspaper down and snatched up his cup of tea so furiously that he sloshed it all over the plain white tablecloth.
"Bad news, I presume?"
"When is there any other kind, these days?"
"I know it's difficult, waiting for the spell to mature, but there's simply no other option."
"Yeah, yeah." Thinking the tea was too bitter this morning, Harry spooned several heaps of sugar into it, then looked up almost in challenge. But Severus said nothing. Actually, he didn't often criticise Harry's table habits any longer. Maybe because, as they found out once or twice weekly these days, there were far more important matters to discuss. "Three, this time," Harry said in a low, dull voice. "Prophet says one of them was a baby. Oh, God. Reminds me of my own story. Except, this baby didn't survive."
His hands were suddenly clasped in a warm, firm grip. "You can't hold yourself accountable for that."
"Well, if all it takes is time for the fucking spell to get its act together, then we should have started one hell of a lot sooner! Started having sex, I mean, and then--"
"No."
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I know, I know, it might not have made a difference. If Podentes needs five years for us to cross, then I wouldn't have been able to help these people, this baby, anyway. But what if one or two months would have made a difference?" He gave a short laugh, so dry it hurt his throat. "I guess we'll know in a couple of months if I'm to blame. 'Cause it wasn't you who was reluctant to get together, was it now?"
Severus looked like he had something important to say. Something profound. His eyes were dark and steady, in that way he had, his lips a tight line, though his expression wasn't angry. When his words did come, Harry was almost disappointed, they were so ordinary.
"You need . . . we need, I believe, a change of scene. It's been a little while since we went to Cologne. Would you fancy a return trip there? Or shall we go somewhere else?"
"Overnight?" asked Harry, frowning. With all the Death Eater activity lately, he wasn't sure he wanted to be out of the country for longer than a few hours. Though a change of scene did sound like a capital idea.
"Just for the day, I think," said Severus, so smoothly that Harry couldn't tell if he'd originally intended an overnight and had changed his mind when he'd seen Harry's expression.
"What about the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor match?"
"Skip it," said Severus, letting go of Harry's hands.
Harry gaped. "I can't skive off! It's my job!"
"Actually, it's not." Severus sipped his own tea again and then put the cup down. "You aren't a head of house, expected to attend the relevant matches."
"I'm the coach!"
"Yes, and you've seen all four teams in competition already. You don't need to attend each and every match."
"Albus--"
"Knows perfectly well that you're owed some time off after you took over for Bryerson with no notice."
"Well . . ." Harry bit his lip, just a little. "I kind of wanted to see Gryffindor smash Ravenclaw."
Severus' nostrils flared. "You're not supposed to prefer one team over another."
"Yeah, I know." Harry grinned. "And I don't, not really. Or, not so the students could tell. But I have a soft spot for Gryffindor. Can't help it. Maybe we can leave after the match?" His grin faded, then. "Or, if you really want a full day abroad, you can order me to go and I will. For the obedience thing."
"The obedience thing," said Severus in a voice that Harry could only think of as dark. "I see your point. Harry, I demand you go abroad with me today . . . after the match has concluded."
"Brilliant." Harry half stood-up and leaned over the table to drop a quick kiss on Severus' lips. "And thanks, Severus. So, where do you want to sit? Staff section this time, you think? It's not like you have to show support for your house, today."
The other man's eyes glinted. "Sit? Why, I shall be standing up the entire time. In my potions laboratory, working on some refinements to Skele-Gro requested by Poppy Pomfrey. Possibly unworkable refinements, but I don't mind the challenge."
Harry laughed. "No, no, Severus. You have to come to the match! It was fun, last time. And I used that story you made up, so Gryffindor wouldn't get upset with me, but then afterwards I wished I'd just told them that we were friends. And if we sit together today, it'll look like we really are. Like I enjoyed your company last time, you know?"
"Good points all, but alas, the Skele-Gro awaits--"
Something in his tone--or maybe his flowery language--suggested amusement. Like Severus was enjoying the idea that Harry wanted his company. Like he wanted to be cajoled further.
"How long has the Skele-Gro been awaiting?" asked Harry, laughing.
"Oh, these past few years. I told you the improvements might not be feasible. But it's a fine project to work on in my free time, and if I achieve a breakthrough, the reduced pain involved in re-growing bones should prove quite lucrative."
"But you don't have as much free time as before." Harry got up from the table and moved around it, kneeling down at Severus' side so their faces weren't so far apart. It was either that or sit on his lap, which struck Harry as kind of childish. No matter that he'd done it before. "You're bound to someone, now. Right? We have to do things together on the weekend. It's part of . . . er, part of being in a relationship."
"So now it's my duty, is it?"
No, that wasn't quite what Harry had meant. "I'm trying to say . . . I don't want it to just look like I enjoy your company, Severus. I do enjoy it. And I don't care who knows that. Really, I don't. I'd really like it if you'd join me for the match. Please?"
Severus' whole face transformed, but only for a split second. In that tiny span of time, however, Harry could have sworn he saw glee written across the other man's features. Then Harry blinked, and the expression on Severus' face could be more properly described as simple pleasure. "Well then, I shall be delighted," he drawled. "But afterwards, I will choose our destination for the balance of the day. Agreed?"
"Sure. I'm easy."
"You're far from easy."
Harry didn't know what Severus meant by that, but he lost track of the question in what followed.
"And I enjoy your company, too."
Harry got off his knees and bent down to kiss Severus properly, that time. Really, things were going quite well between them. He was happier than he'd ever expected to be, and Severus was turning out to be worthy of the great trust Harry had placed in him. The invocation had been made of nothing but trust, it sometimes seemed to Harry.
If not for the hammer of doom hanging over his head--that need to get their power crossed, now--Harry would even have called himself content.
Not ecstatic, no. Slavery would never have been his choice of lifestyle. But this, with Severus . . . he could live this way. He could bear it, even though it meant he'd never truly be free, or have the kinds of liberties other people took for granted. He could be . . . yes, content. That was the best word for it.
But he wasn't content, because the death count was growing weekly, and he was supposed to put a stop to it, and the wizarding world was almost holding its breath, it seemed to him, waiting for him to do just that.
He wanted to rush out and do something. Take some action. Blast that snake-hearted shite of a dark lord into hell, and slam the doors shut after him. Staying at Hogwarts and doing nothing was wearing on his nerves. It wasn't like him. He was a Gryffindor! He wanted to rush in and . . .
And what? Get himself killed because he wasn't ready?
He wasn't ready; Harry knew that. Not his fault if the fucking papers didn't know it, and were increasingly critical of him.
Harry lifted his head to see Severus staring at him quizzically. He wondered how long the other man's eyes had been open.
"That was an odd kiss."
"Yeah." Harry cleared his throat. "Got distracted half-way through. Um, change of pace is probably a really good idea. Just, you know, be sure to boss me about quite a bit. This is so important, I don't even care if the Muggles stare, if they think we have some kind of weird relationship."
"I'll do my best," said Severus in a solemn voice. Something about his tone was off, but Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it. "All right. I'm going to go read for a bit, take my mind off things, unless you need me to do something?"
That last bit he tacked on almost hopefully, because the more he could submit to Severus, the better. But it was damned hard, he was finding, to submit to someone who had so little interest in issuing commands.
"Go and read," said Severus. "One of my erotic novels, perhaps."
"You don't think I'm already hot and bothered enough?"
"Perhaps it will give you an idea."
Harry smiled. "I don't need ideas. I know just what you like."
Severus made a non-committal noise before he turned away.
Monday, December 7, 1998 ---- 7:01 a.m.
Saturday's trip to Florence had been pretty good, Harry had to admit, though he'd had more fun yesterday, when they'd spent the entire day in Athens. He'd woken up that morning in a really good mood.
Of course, it took the Daily Prophet just thirty seconds to demolish it.
"This is such utter crap," groaned Harry, shoving the paper away from him with both hands. "Where do they even come up with these names they're calling me?"
"Quick Quotes Quill, most likely."
Harry shot Severus an irritated look. "You think? Well, it's worse than usual. I am not the 'Chosen One!'"
"A certain prophecy would say otherwise."
"The paper doesn't know that!"
"True."
Somehow, Severus' calm, even tone only made Harry all the more annoyed. "Look, this is bad! The more they promise the public that I'm the answer to their prayers, the more I become a target for the Death Eaters!"
"Few wizards pray."
"Figure of fucking speech! What's wrong with you?"
Severus took a single glance at the paper Harry had discarded, and shrugged. "There's no point in letting them get to you."
"Get to me!"
"They'll print what they wish--"
"I've half a mind to go down to their offices and--"
"You've no more than half a mind if you think that will improve matters," said Severus in a scathing tone. "It can only worsen the situation."
Harry knew that was true. Of course he did. He wasn't the same naïve fourth-year who hadn't understood at first what Rita Skeeter's game was. He was just so tired of standing by and watching Vol-- the Dark Lord, and his henchmen, range far and wide across Great Britain, leaving murder in their wake. He needed to do something. Anything.
And speaking of doing something, he could just kick himself that he kept thinking Voldemort instead of the Dark Lord, like Severus wanted. God, what was wrong with him? The key to everything was submission, and he couldn't do the simplest thing Severus had ever asked for! People were dying, and he couldn't manage to obey practically the first thing Severus had ever asked of him!
"Well, I have to do something!" he erupted, furious. "It's so easy for you to sit there, cool as you please, and weigh one death against another! But I can't do that. I'm not like you!"
Severus' lips had thinned. "If you think that this is easy for me, you don't know me very well, after all."
"Of course it's easy! You're a Slytherin! You don't have to count the cost as long as you get your way in the end. Because you're not the one getting killed, and that's all that matters to you, isn't it?"
"This has gone on quite long enough!" said Severus, raising his voice. "Stay right here."
Harry raised an eyebrow, but before he could retort, Severus was striding from the reading room. A moment later, Harry heard the whoosh of the Floo flaring to life, and Severus' voice, muffled.
Firecalling someone, Harry figured.
Probably not the Prophet.
A moment later, Severus had returned, his arms crossed as he stood in the doorway. "Go and get dressed. We're going to France."
"France!" Harry's chair fell over sideways as he shot to his feet. "I have to work, today!"
"No, you don't. Albus has been informed that we will both be away from Hogwarts, today."
"Well, I like that!" exclaimed Harry. "You might have asked me if I felt like skiving off work!"
"Your real work is doing as I wish, and you know it."
"Yeah, remind me that I only have a job because it's all right with you. Now I feel better!"
Severus replied in a heavy voice. "Like it or not, you are a slave, Harry. My slave. I thought you had come to terms with that."
His tone gave Harry pause. "I . . . I have. You know I have. But you don't usually get so . . . so . . . look, what's this about France, anyway? I know I said I wanted to travel, but don't you think that two countries a week is enough?"
"This isn't a pleasure trip."
"Then why go? Why make me miss work?"
Severus abruptly sighed. "Because I have things to say to you, and they can't wait."
"So say them!"
"I don't want to have this conversation here. Harry . . . go and get dressed, as I've asked."
Harry would much rather have argued further. Going abroad just so they could have a conversation was stupid. And missing work for it was stupid.
But it didn't matter what he thought. Not about anything. He was the slave, as Severus had said. And however angry he was at the moment, he had come to terms with it.
He didn't say another word as he walked past Severus and went upstairs to get ready to go.
Monday, December 7, 1998 ---- 7:37 a.m.
"Oh," said Harry as soon as he'd got up off his arse. This wasn't what he'd expected. When Severus had told him to announce Number Seventeen to the Floo Network, he'd thought it referred to a hearth somewhere in Paris. Instead, he found himself in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere. Or at least, the windows showed no sign of any other buildings nearby. Actually, he had no way to know if he was even in France, or not.
Severus stepped out of the Floo a moment later. Before the man could say a word, Harry cast a cleaning charm over himself. There, that was better.
"Take off your robes and make yourself comfortable."
"Going to be here a while, are we?"
"As long as it takes."
"As long as what takes? What's so important? What do we have to discuss, anyway?"
Severus took off his own robes and sat down on in a wingback leather chair before he answered. "Your eagerness to assume guilt for the Death Eaters' crimes."
"Eagerness!"
"You prefer the word obsessive?"
"Just because I have a conscience--"
"Take off your robes and sit down!" barked Severus.
That time, Harry did.
"This is more than a matter of conscience," continued Severus in a calmer tone, though his dark eyes were still flashing. "What is more, it is getting dangerous."
"Oh, it is not--"
"You think I don't know how much self-control it's taken for you not to put on that invisibility cloak and rush out into danger?"
"Yeah, well I haven't done it, have I? I have enough self-restraint not to--"
"You're a Gryffindor."
"You think I'm still fifteen or something!"
"No, I don't," said Severus, his voice so deep and sincere that Harry heard the sentiment even through his own anger. "You're an impressive man in many ways, Harry. I know that, and I appreciate it. But you do have limits. Everyone does. I think that you are fast approaching yours."
Harry gulped a little, unsure whether it was the unexpected praise getting to him, or the fact that Severus' comments at the end were so spot-on. He had been thinking about his invisibility cloak more and more often as the reports in the paper grew worse, as the details of the attacks became more gruesome. He'd even gone and sat in front of the trunk, one afternoon when he'd been alone in the dungeons. He'd reached out, wanting to open it and pull his cloak out.
Only the knowledge that the wards would alert Severus had stopped him.
"I . . . can't you see that I have to do something?"
"The task is yours, certainly." Severus' lips firmed. "But what you have to do is continue on your course. With me. The prophecy speaks to the issue. You are going toneed my powers, Harry. And there's only one way to get them."
"But--"
"I know how guilty you feel every time the Dark Lord moves yet again."
"Oh, how could you possibly know?" Harry shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, and slouched down in the chair, scowling. "You don't feel guilty, do you?"
"No." Severus shook his head, his dark hair swaying. "Not for what the papers report. It wasn't my doing."
"Well, it was my doing, indirectly." Harry sighed, slouching down even further, until his back started to ache. "Like a lie by omission."
"These things are not your doing, not in any way. Though the look on your face certainly tells me, morning after morning, that you think they are."
"Well, if I could have stopped them--"
"But you could not have stopped them. That is the point."
"I could have! You know how long I dithered about starting to really have sex with you, again!"
"Yes, I know. I'd hardly call what you were doing dithering, however. You needed to heal, and until you had, you could not possibly have enjoyed a sexual relationship."
"I should have healed quicker! I should have got my act together, and--" Harry blew out a breath. "I knew what was at stake, and I just put things off and off."
"Healing isn't a process that can generally be rushed."
"Ha." Harry sat up a little bit, and yanking one hand out of a pocket, reached into the pocket of his robe, which he'd hung over his chair. "Cut me open and I bleed, right? But all it takes is a spell to set it right. A fucking spell!"
"There aren't any spells to heal this sort of hurt."
Harry knew that, but he still felt deficient, somehow. "I could have tried harder."
"It's very clear to me that you think these things. I didn't bring you here to listen to you reiterate them."
"Then what are we doing here?"
"This," said Severus, standing up and going to where he'd hung his own robes, on a peg by the door. He fetched a rolled parchment scroll from an inside pocket, and tossed it over to Harry.
Harry turned it over in his hands. "What?"
"Read it."
Shrugging, Harry untied the bit of string holding it rolled up, and flattened out the parchment on his lap. It was nothing but a list of names and ages.
Judith Greene née Larkson, age 28 Henry Bartholomew Greene, age 27 Lisa Anne Edwards, age 6 Jeremy George Edwards, age 14 Edward James Edwards, age 45 Julianne Edwards née Neale, age 42 Susan Altamar, age 16, pregnant
And on and on. Dozens of names. Harry looked up in confusion. "So?"
"It's a list of the Dark Lord's victims last time. Starting when you were born."
Harry quickly turned it over. More names covered the back of the scroll, going halfway down. But his parents weren't there.
"I stopped in mid-October."
"Oh." Harry rolled the scroll up again. "I still don't understand. What's your point? You want me to know that he killed more people last time?"
"He may well kill more this time, before he's through. No, that's not the point."
"Then what is?"
Severus sat back down and crossed one leg over another. "Strange. You've just seen the names of those he killed, yet you don't have that look on your face, not now. The guilty one."
"Why should I?"
"I thought it was your job to vanquish him. Isn't it prophesied? Aren't you, in truth, the Chosen One, whether or not you asked to be? Didn't you let these people down?"
The sarcasm wasn't lost on Harry, but he still didn't really understand what Severus thought his point was. "I can't help it if these people were killed years and years ago!"
"Why not?"
"Because I was a baby, maybe?"
"Why should that matter? The Dark Lord needed vanquishing, no matter that you were merely a babe in arms. The work was yours, and you didn't do it!"
"I couldn't have done it!"
"Why not?"
"Because it was impossible! I was a baby!"
"Impossible," scoffed Severus, his nostrils flaring. "Really, Harry. Aren't you grasping after excuses? You could have done something. You could have tried harder!"
Harry flicked his wand. "Accio dictionary! Oh, too bad. There isn't one. Well, when we get home maybe you can look up 'impossible,' since you seem not to understand the word."
"Maybe you can look it up."
"I happen to know what it means," said Harry, crossing his arms, his wand still dangling from one hand. After a moment he uncrossed his arms and set it down on the low table to one side of his chair.
"Yes. Of course you do," murmured Severus, eyes narrowed, his features about as intent as Harry had ever seen. "The question is why you apply the definition to one situation and not the other. You could not possibly have done anything about the Dark Lord's crimes when you were so young, yes. But Harry, you could not possiblyhave done anything to prevent these latest killings, either. You literally could not have."
"I-- I--" Harry gasped, looking away from Severus' piercing regard. "Of course I could have. All it needed was sex to start our powers crossing. And it wasn't even that hard, once I decided to just do it--"
"Because you had allowed yourself to heal."
"Well, I could have tried!"
"True, you could have tried." Severus leaned forward and caught Harry's hands in his. Harry yanked a little, not wanting that just then, but Severus tightened his grip. "But you could not possibly have been an enthusiastic, passionate partner. You could have forced yourself to go through the motions. In fact, you did force yourself to do just that, when it was required. You are not a man who lacks either courage or determination, Harry. But that doesn't render you a man without limits, as I said before."
"That once was terrible. And I didn't want . . . anything. Not even a blowjob, not then. But if I'd forced myself, I might have got used to it, right?"
"Be honest with yourself," said Severus gently. "Perhaps you could have got used to giving and receiving sex. But could you have enjoyed it, any of it?"
Harry didn't speak for a long while. He couldn't. The word stuck in his throat felt like it was choking him. It felt like failure. "No," he finally said in a very low voice. "But you might have. Some."
"I might have come to a climax, the same as I climaxed inside you before your birthday. Did you think I enjoyed that, except in the most obvious sense?"
Harry shook his head.
"Suppose you had forced yourself to take me in your mouth when you clearly didn't want to. Suppose you had climbed atop me for frottage, every morning and night, and ground our cocks together until the friction made me come, while you looked away so I couldn't see how little you were getting from it. Would that have made our powers cross any faster? Would it? You know what sort of man I am."
Again, the word was hard to force out. Strange to be afraid of a mere word. "No," Harry finally croaked.
"It couldn't have made our powers cross in the least," said Severus, very calmly. "It would only have done one thing, Harry. It would have deepened your dislike of anything sexual. It would have solidified it. Quite probably, beyond the point of no return. What you are accusing yourself of failing to do would have been the worst possible thing to do. If you wanted our powers to ever begin crossing, then you had to do exactly what you did do. And to reproach yourself for it . . ." Severus' hair swayed again as he shook his head. "That must stop. It will endanger you, eventually."
"I . . . yeah," said Harry, though he was shaking his head. "Listen, everything you say makes sense and some part of me knows you're right. I mean, in a logical sense, but I can't turn my emotions on and off like a tap, you know."
"You think I can?" Oddly, Severus sounded somewhat offended by the suggestion.
"I didn't mean that. I know you hate what he's doing, what he stands for."
"Is that what you think of me, that I'm made of nothing but hate?"
Harry sighed. How could things make so much sense inside his head, but come out so wrong when he started talking? "No, I didn't mean it that way. Well, I do think you're sort of . . . reserved, when it comes to emotional things--"
"I think you mean stunted."
"Maybe some." Harry shrugged as he sat there. "But I'm that too, I know, so it's no big deal. Can't help it. I got ignored more often than I got talked with, as a child. But it's not like I think you don't have all the same feelings that everyone does, Severus."
Severus' hands tightened on his. "Even . . . love?"
Harry glanced up. Actually, he'd never really thought of Severus as the kind of person who could love. But that was stupid, of course. Everyone had something they liked enough to call it love. "Yeah, sure. Why not? You love brewing, after all. And fine wine, and good books."
"So many things I love, apparently."
Severus sounded almost angry, then. Or at least annoyed. Which was no wonder. Most of the things Harry had named were pretty unimportant. They made Severus sound shallow, which he wasn't. But Harry knew how to set it right.
"And you love the idea of being free, finally, from that mark on your arm."
Hmm. Severus didn't really take that the way Harry had intended.
"Yes, I shall be sure to remind you of your worst decisions on a regular basis, also." Severus let go of his hands and sat back. "Though granted, yours haven't been as spectacularly bad as that one."
"Don't know about that," said Harry, thinking of Sirius.
Bellatrix killed Black, Harry, he heard Severus say again, though the man's lips hadn't moved. Well, it was true. Bellatrix had. But she was dead now, at Harry's hand. "Well, anyway . . . I see what you mean about the guilt being stupid. I'll work on it."
Severus' eyebrows drew together. "Stupid isn't quite the word I would choose."
"It is, though." Harry sighed. "I know I can't do anything."
"That's not true. You're doing what you can."
Harry's laugh was bitter. "And that's all anybody has a right to ask, yeah. I know."
"Nobody has a right to ask even that," corrected Severus. "You aren't trying to make up for past mistakes."
"That's what you think."
"Ah. You're thinking of your godfather." Severus paused. "But he's not the reason you gave yourself to me."
"Not directly, but I didn't want anybody else to die." Harry sighed. "And I didn't want to die, myself, either. But people are dying. Innocent people, who never did anything, who were just born with the wrong bloodlines. Why does he have to be such a prick?"
"Because he can be, I expect."
Harry grimaced. "And people will expect the same of me once they know how powerful I can be. And you'll have to convince them that you have me under control. Wonderful."
"People can be very unpleasant. But your true friends won't need much convincing."
"Ha. What happened to them being possible exceptions to the wave of hysteria I'm going to cause?"
Severus glanced down at his hands. "When I said that, I didn't realise what good friends you had."
Harry slowly nodded, thinking that made sense. How could Severus have known how loyal Ron and Hermione would prove to be, especially since he didn't have any friends at all, except maybe Dumbledore?
"All right, then," he said, sighing. "Maybe that's why our powers haven't been crossing so much, you think? Because I've been a little bit reluctant, deep down inside, to have that kind of power at my disposal. You know, because I don't want to be the next dark lord. I don't even want to be the next good lord, or anything. I just want to be Harry, that's all."
Severus abruptly sat up straighter and pushed his hair away from his forehead, his fingers weaving through the strands as he moved his hand. "The reason why our powers haven't crossed fully, yet . . . no, I can't think it has anything to do with your reservations. That's not how Podentes works."
"Then how does it fucking work?" asked Harry, but without much heat. He didn't feel angry. He just felt tired, of all of this. "Because I've done everything you've wanted, haven't I?"
No answer. Which was enough to tell him something, wasn't it? Oh, God. Harry suddenly felt a foreboding so strong that chills ran over his shoulders and down his back. "Severus? I have done everything you've wanted, haven't I? Haven't I?"
Another long silence, but that time Harry waited it out.
And then, the answer came. But it wasn't any kind of shock, not by then. The silence had been answer enough.
"No."
"What the hell do you want, then?" asked Harry, his voice rising. Because he knew the answer to that one, too. There was only one thing Severus would want and never mention.
Only one damned thing.
Severus' eyes were sombre when he glanced at Harry. "More variety when we make love."
Oh, now wasn't that sugar-coating the issue? "Make love," scoffed Harry, jumping up from his chair. "More variety, sure. Why don't you call it what it is, Severus? You want to fuck me in the arse, don't you? That's what you're talking about!"
Another pause, but this one wasn't nearly as long. "Yes, that is what I'm talking about."
For some reason, the fact that Severus was just calmly sitting there . . . it made Harry feel even more angry. As if anything could do that, after what he'd just heard! "You bastard!" shouted Harry, tempted to hit him, to wipe that smile off the other man's face. Not that Severus was smiling. "You absolute bastard! I give you everything, everything! As much sex as you could possibly want! Your cock all the way down my throat, everything! How many times a day do you come, Severus? Two, sometimes three? And you just want more! You want the one thing I can't do!"
"I can't help wanting what I want, Harry."
Again, his calmness only enraged Harry further. "Sure you can! Of course you can! You get more sex than any man your age has a right to expect, and all of it willing, too. Just like you like! Why can't you be satisfied with that, eh? Why? Why this? Why do you have to want the one thing you know I can't give you?"
"I know how far you've come and I've tried to be satisfied--"
"Try harder!"
Severus finally stood up, then, his hands hanging at his sides. Good thing, that. If he'd tried to take Harry's hands, or hug him, or anything like that, Harry might just hit him, after all. "Trying isn't going to make any difference. If I could lie to the bond, I would. But it knows what would satisfy me, Harry."
"But why that?" cried Harry, feeling like he was falling from hundreds of feet up, and this time, nothing would be able to save him. "Why can't you be satisfied already? You've got me! As a slave! As a sex-slave, and I don't stint, I don't! And I don't even mind having sex with you, now. I mean, it's great and I'm happy to do it, as much as you want, right? We get on great in bed! Why can't that be enough?"
Severus' voice sounded gentle, but the words were about as harsh as anything Harry could imagine. "Because it's not enough."
"It could be, if you'd just stop wanting to have what they had!"
"I don't want it because they had it. I've wanted it from the first." Severus took a step forward, but came no closer. "Our powers have begun to cross, but the spell won't mature further, not until I'm fully satisfied."
"And that's why you brought me here," spat Harry, fists clenching. "Because you remembered how I wanted to go upstairs for Compulsio, which was horrid from start to finish, by the way. So what are we going to do, come out here every time you want to stick it to me? Well, what are you waiting for, eh? If you have to poke me so much, you'd better strip off, hadn't you?"
"I dídn't bring you here for sex."
"Oh, sure you didn't."
Severus raised his voice. "I brought you here to show you that list of the Dark Lord's victims. I was expecting an argument, and thought it better not to have it at home. I wasn't even going to mention wanting . . . "
"Wanting my arse!" shouted Harry. "Tell it like it is, for God's sake! And like hell you weren't going to mention it! Why did you then, eh? So I'd bend over for you!"
"I don't want you to bend over for me. I want you to enjoy it. I want you to want it. And I only mentioned wanting you that way because you asked. You asked, Harry. Did you not want me to answer truthfully?"
Harry twisted his lips. "Oh, make this my fault, right."
"I didn't say that."
"Well, at least now I have a solid reason to feel guilty. You want my arse, and I won't let you have it, so whatever goes wrong, it damned well is my fault. Going to start a new list, now, Severus? Of all the people who die, people I could have saved?"
Severus shook his head. "You're not to blame for any deaths, past or future. You can only do what you can, in fact, do."
"So what was the point of telling me, then?"
Severus' lips firmed. "You're too strong a man to want to hide, Harry. You had to know the truth, sooner or later."
"And you decided sooner was better than later." Harry laughed, bitterly. "Don't take this wrong, 'cause I'll still suck you off twice a day, all right. What else can I do, in the circumstances? But this whole deal, with you drooling over my arse? With you wanting to fuck me, or is that fuck me over? It's sick, Severus. It's wrong. You know what I went through. But you don't care, do you? You don't care at all. And I . . ."
Harry met Severus' eyes, his own gaze a steady glare. "I hate you. I really, really hate you."
That was it, Harry thought. There was nothing more to say. He didn't even wait to hear what Severus might say in reply.
Stomping to the Floo, he grabbed powder from the mantle and threw it down, shouting the words that would take him home. Ha, home. Severus' home.
But it was the only one Harry had. The only one he was ever going to have.
That didn't mean he wanted to stay there.
Grabbing the Firebolt from the closet, Harry ran through the magic doorway, shoved open a window in the upstairs rooms, and jumped atop his broom as he threw himself outside.