Chapter 3
Snape paid for their Entrance Passes at the door. Setting Aria down by the tickets kiosk, Snape inquired what the tickets cost and was told that children under five years attended for free, which exempted James. And, because James was too young to ride on his own, one parent riding with him would be able to ride without needing to purchase a ticket.
Aria's ticket was a nominal sum; it helped that she was attending a famous preparatory school, (even if Snape wouldn't put a dead kniezel against the quality of education there).
Upon entering the park area themselves, they were besotted by all types of vendors – selling anything from levitating animal shapes to an entire model set of the park itself, complete with miniature attractions.
After some deliberation (and his daughter's insistence), he bought Aria a Dandelion Flower – with a white head. The head would dissipate into many tiny fluttering puffs if a magical child blew on it, and these tiny, fuzzy pieces would reappear slowly, one by one, with a quiet Pop.
James got just what he was clamouring for too – it was a red lion almost as big as he is, with golden-yellow paws, a matching fluffy tip at the end of his tail, and a flaming orange mane.
Snape looked between the lion, Harry, and back again, pretending to be deep in thought.
"He reminds me of someone..." he offered when his gaze fell back to Harry. The corner of his mouth curled up as he half-smiled, daring Harry to disagree with him.
"Yes. But you still bought him." Harry laughed, teasing Snape, and Snape had to agree (silently!), that Harry had him there.
The first attraction that met them was the Swimming Swans Ride. And, because it seemed a safe (and slow!)-moving ride, they both concluded that it would be alright for small children.
They were right.
But oh, how it hurt.
The children did have a good time – James was so excited that Harry had to hold him back forcefully, or risk having to jump into the water after his son should James chance to fall off the majestically gliding Swan.
Aria had a lovely time as well. They sat in pairs – Harry with James in the front, and Snape with Aria in the back. That part was alright, as well.
Problem came when the Swan Ride turned out to have quite the long route – the little river went all around the Festival, and ten minutes into the ride, both Harry and Snape wished they had never got on it.
Their long, adult-sized legs had no other option except to stay in the same position as the one they took upon boarding their Swan, and very soon, both men developed pins-and-needles sensations in their lower limbs.
It was worse than a round of Crucio. At least torture came and went in waves, with a refractory period in between, however small.
There was no end to the discomfort here.
Harry and Snape shared a torturous look over the back of Harry's Swan Chair.
It was going to be a long ride.
At first they tried to just ignore the unpleasant sensations.
But such was their suffering, that they managed to ruin their children's enjoyment twenty minutes into the ride by their quiet but constant moaning and groaning about the state of their Anatomic parts.
When it was finally over, Aria got out of the Swan first, climbing over Snape. If she stepped on her father's legs, he was none the wiser – his legs had fallen asleep a while ago.
Next, Harry set James down onto the landing dock next to Aria.
Now...
It took Harry five rounds of Enervate! before his legs remembered that they were part of an entire system, and that it was a system that desired to finally get out of the damn Swan.
Snape was less fortunate. Ten rounds of Enervate.
When they finally got out of the Torture Trap, they remained quiet for a long time. Their children gave up on starting a conversation with the fathers and started a conversation between themselves that culminated in a game of Catch-the-James and Chaser-Aria.
Snape and Harry still hadn't said a word.
The next ride they saw was the Tea Pot Ride.
Turning to each other with identical looks of horror, they exchanged a look at the ride and met each others' eyes. Then they opened their mouths and said, in matching rhythm...
"No Tea Pots or Swans Ride."
"No Tea Pots or Swans Ride."
If James laughed at his Da's funny behaviour, Aria, as a school-age child and old enough to show sympathy, needed but one look at her Da's face to realise that there was nothing funny going on here.
Something Hoot!ed in the distance, and Snape and Harry shivered when they turned around and realised what it was...
A Miniature Train Sets Ride. With tiny seats for children, and just as much leg room.
Now they both turned to each of their children and said, in the exact same tone:
"No Miniature Trains Set Ride."
"No Miniature Trains Set Ride."
"Alright, Da," Aria nodded in understanding.
James opted to invent a new word on the spot.
The new term aptly described how Harry and Snape felt about the first three rides in the park of attractions.
Aria spotted the next ride first.
It was named the Flying Cars ride, and, although it was for children a bit older, Snape saw that there were fastenings inside the cars. It also helped that the cars seated two.
The best aspect was that this time around, there was plenty of leg room.
The cars were able to fly inside of a specific, enchanted area at any height, with a variable speed that would not cause children to fly out of their cars and risk forcing their parents to take an unplanned trip to St Mungo's.
Harry strapped James into the passenger seat while he took the steering role.
Snape did the same with Aria.
The lower portion of the car was a soft white cloud – no doubt a safety feature to make collisions not only less damaging, but also enjoyable, because Harry and Snape have seen many cars in the vicinity colliding with each other for the fun of it only to easily separate and continue to fly around the enchanted room, laughing in merriment.
This ride was Snape's favourite.
On it, he had first seen Harry laugh like a carefree child (And it didn't take Snape back to Harry's stubborn first years at Hogwarts, either!).
This was the reason that Snape's favourite aspect of the ride was to fly up behind Harry and bump into him, seemingly by accident. Snape would smirk, Harry would smile, James would giggle, and they would be off again, floating on a cloud of their own until they chanced to meet again...
Harry enjoyed the bump and grind, Snape noticed and just had to smile at his clever metaphor.
Aria enjoyed floating around and admiring the magical ceiling. Almost too much. Snape started to worry that his assessment was completely wrong and he would end up with a Ravenclaw daughter, when time came...
But then he realised, that Aria was only admiring the reflection in the ceiling, which, Snape realised, could be used to his advantage in order to hasten his and Harry's Cloud Cars (Head-On!) Reunion.
He smirked.
Perhaps there was a tiny bit of Slytherin in his daughter, after all. It was the Slytherin side of her parentage that could use augmenting – because asides from her grandmother and himself... Only muggles and Ravenclaws.
If Snape were mean-spirited, he would say something about the inability to differentiate...
The ride was over and the Cloud Cars stopped in their latest positions. This meant that those high up in the ceiling ended up stuck high up in the ceiling, able to get down only with a Wingardium Leviosa charm done for them by somebody lower down.
Luckily, Snape and Aria landed firmly on the ground at the end of the ride.
Snape looked meaningfully at Harry for a moment, and Harry understood and unstrapped himself and James, placing James in his lap.
Then he nodded at Snape.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he enchanted Harry, and, by extension, James, and father and son were slowly sailing down...
Down into Snape's arms as Snape caught Harry and set him down.
"That was fun!" Harry exclaimed, for the benefit of Aria and James, who smiled.
"Should we go up again?" Snape offered.
Aria shook her head, because by this time she glimpsed a Cloud Candy vendor and looked beseechingly at Snape.
Snape shared a look with Harry.
"Would you like one too?" he asked. "If I buy one for James, you'll have to be the one to finish it because the thing is larger than his head."
Snape ended up buying two portions – one for Aria, who proceeded to devour hers at a speed previously unknown to Snape outside of the flight speed of a Firebolt, and one for James, who looked at it most queerly until his ministrations chanced to get some in his mouth. After which, of course, the sweet disappeared just as swiftly as Aria's.
Harry was able to steal a bit of an end piece and shared it with Snape, who, under pretense of enjoying the sweet, sucked a bit of Harry's finger into his mouth, causing quite a few consequences for the two of them.
Said consequences lasted only until they saw models of Floating Cars in the distance and Harry decided to borrow one for James.
In reality, they were Hovering Cars, a fact that became painfully (emphasis on that) obvious, as Harry had to apologise to each and every witch and wizard whom James 'ran over' in his Hovercraft by crashing unceremoniously into their legs.
James was a terrible driver.
Snape didn't say a word.
He was trying his best to do nothing more than smirk and risk exposing that he had a sense of humour.
Finally taking pity on Harry (or on himself, because he was very close to guffawing in laughter), Snape suggested that they return their unfortunate purchase and get a more reliable car.
He pointed.
Harry saw that Snape was right.
In the distance, he saw the same cars, but for a bit older children, and what was more important, Snape pointed Harry's attention to the fact that they were two-seater cars, instead of one rider only.
Snape's gaze went to Aria, and, a moment later, Snape got a car for both children at the same time.
Harry was only too happy to replace one car with the other.
The car did not seem to have fastener belts – so Snape tore a piece of rope that stated, in bold letters, DO NOT ENTER off and into two pieces, after which he transfigured them into car belts.
Harry fastened James in while Snape fastened in Aria.
Aria was a much more capable driver than James, even in her a bit less tender young age.
Snape did not have to apologise to any magicalfolk in the name of his daughter's driving habits.
Then again, she flew the little car over the heads of said magicalfolk, so there was really no likelihood of collisions there.
When she flew the car back to her father, Harry saw James' little head was resting against the inside of the car's door. James was looking a bit peaked.
Picking James up from the little flying car, Snape held him while Harry fished James' pram out of his pocket and enlarged it, pulling the covers back while Snape set James inside.
Aria was floating a little ways off, enjoying the ability to fly faster, without her underage passenger to limit the sweet freedom of flying fast(er, a bit).
While Aria was thus occupied, James was checked and changed, deemed satisfactory enough to sleep through his entire nap time, undisturbed by lack of hygiene, covered up with a blanket and was now floating along in his pram, in front of Harry and Snape as they resumed walking in the direction they had seen Aria fly in.
A huge, rotating wheel in the sky rose in front of them. The ride was called the Observation Wheel – and it looked like a gigantic moving circle made out of a stationary centre that rotated spokes coming out of it towards the circumference of said circle. The end of each spoke contained a mushroom-shaped car attached to it – the bottom half containing seats and a central table with a steering wheel that rotated each individual car. The top of the car was umbrella-shaped and complemented the lower half by making both halves together resemble an oval.
The cars started out on the bottom and moved slowly in a full circle around the full perimeter of the ride. Harry and Snape saw witches and wizards of all ages board the ride – children (or even grandchildren) sitting on their laps.
Harry thought it would be amazing to look over the whole of Godric's Hollow from the perspective of the sky. Then again, Harry's favourite aspect of the Wizarding World came from such a perspective – Quidditch at Hogwarts.
The line for the ride moved forward an entire family at a time (as each car descended and the previous family occupying the car exited).
The car that Snape and Harry finally boarded was a family car – it lacked the centre steering table.
For this reason, James' pram was placed in the centre, with the three of them taking the available seats in the periphery of the car. He had long since fallen asleep, which, Harry judged, was probably from the day's excitement.
Harry fastened James' pram to the inside of the car as they started to move, slowly but surely, upwards.
Snape, for his part, added a sticking charm to the peacefully-sleeping James – so that he would not fall out when they were high up. Better safe than sorry, came Snape's wary council.
Harry, in retaliation, fastened Aria into her seat in the car, with a smirk over at Snape. What is this with our recent trend to taking care of the other's child, and forgetting about our own?
Snape just smiled indulgently. They were already above the tops of the trees, so he followed Aria's lead and chose to look out at the panorama opening out before them. It really was breathtaking. He chanced a look at Harry. And sharing the daylight on an outing with Harry made the experience all that much more memorable.
Upon dismounting, they decided to take a walk somewhere quiet where James could sleep, undisturbed (and they could talk, uninterrupted), and so started heading off to the famous Godric's Hollow cemetery. At the exit to the park, Snape asked if they would be able to return after leaving the park, and was told that, yes, sir, because the tickets in his hand were All Day Passes.
They walked through the rows of headstones, sometimes talking, and sometimes remaining silent in reverence of the deceased. Sometimes, Aria would fly overhead and the wind would ruffle their hair. Harry would laugh because his hair was not any the worse for it, but Snape would always insist on smoothing his pony tail down.
This is the first that Snape had witnessed of his daughter's enjoyment of flying, and when the conversation turned even more drastically to flying for sport, Aria showed a heretofore unknown enthusiasm for broomstick flying.
They saw a row of coffee shops lining the street ahead, and so decided to stop for lunch. Harry bought James' lunch and stowed it away in his pram, under a preservation charm, for after James woke up.
Then he stared Snape down and ordered him to buy himself and Aria a real lunch, even if Harry was the one paying for it (Snape acquiesced in the end).
When they came back to the park, Snape bought the flying car instead of returning it to the vendor.
"The car is more useful and less dangerous than a broomstick," Snape offered when Harry, confronted Snape about his uncharacteristic decision.
"Useful? How?" Harry inquired.
"Transfiguration lessons," Snape answered, thoughtful. "You saw – car belts, for instance. And anything else that we may come up with in the course of the lesson..."
Harry had no idea that Snape would take the creative approach to teaching.
Snape, for his part, decided not to reveal to Harry that he was absolutely terrible at Transfiguration, most of which he had learned after his Hogwarts years, in the course of preparing Aria for Hogwarts.
The car will join Harry's and James' broomsticks in the shed.
"If I help you work on the flying car, would you let me and James borrow it, some time?" Harry asked.
Snape nodded, surprised.
Harry, understanding Snape's confusion, grinned. "Hey, on a broom or in a car, doesn't matter. Flying's flying, right Aria?"
"Yes," she called back, high above their heads.
"I'm getting her a broomstick when she turns eleven," Harry told Snape matter-of-factly. "It is a first-year requirement, after all..."
"No, you won't," Snape said stubbornly.
Harry considered Snape for a moment.
"What about if I promise that the broomstick will fall apart on the last day of her first-year flying lessons?" he offered, jesting, a glimmer in his eye.
"Deal!" replied Snape. "But I will hold you to that..."
Choosing a moment when Aria was a bit away from the two of them, Harry turned to Snape and kissed him, his hand fisting in the man's shirt front.
"You can hold anything you want to me," Harry said, laughing, when they pulled apart, and for one tiny, insignificant moment in time they were sharing the same breath.
Snape flushed, thinking they probably weren't talking about their children's broomsticks, anymore...
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When James awoke, he was changed and fed a late lunch (the earlier one he had missed) while the three of them ate supper.
It was time to head home.
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Something changed within Snape after they left Aria at the school in the evening.
Thinking back, it was difficult to see who was less willing – Snape, to leave Aria, or Aria, to go back to school.
Snape seemed oddly tense, and his words went at odds with his gestures.
This, for example...
"You'd best go," Harry heard him say to his only child. While he was clutching her to his chest...!
"Alright, Da," Harry heard Aria answer. But she continued to clutch at her father's neck...!
"I'll come for you on Friday," Snape offered, not letting go.! "We'll have the entire week-end..."
But Aria just shook her head sadly. "Mother's taking me home on Friday. It's All Hollows' Eve week-end..."
"I see," Snape nodded into her hair. There was an unhealthy gleam in his eyes...
One of the many school Assistants came in then, and Aria was taken up to the children's sleeping quarters.
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When they left the school and walked to the Apparition Point from which to get home, Snape seemed ill at ease.
He remained silent and did not snap at Harry, but, when Harry reached over to take Snape's hand, Snape flinched away from Harry. (What the fuck?)
Before gathering himself and clutching Harry's hand so tightly it was a wonder that it remained attached when they landed in front of their cottage.
After which, Snape pushed past him at the entrance, and, outer cloak still on, disappeared in his basement laboratory.
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
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Harry realised that he had quite managed to forget all about Snape in the kerfuffle following their return. Sure, Snape may have been upset at leaving the school without Aria, and it wasn't that higher priorities than Severus Snape had suddenly assaulted Harry – they were just more pressing ones in that they demanded immediate attention.
Hanging up his cloak in the parlour, Harry removed James' belongings from his pockets, all shrunk, and, enlarging them back to their original size, sent them flying according to the destination that awaited them. James' bottles flew into the kitchen and landed in the sink, where they immediately started washing themselves.
James' dirty pants, carefully folded, flew themselves into the rubbish bin as the lid opened and then closed, after they were deposited inside.
Harry's trainers were exchanged for his home slippers before Harry, casting a spell at James' pram, climbed up the stairs after the floating and sleeping James (in his pram, of course!).
Once in his bedroom, Harry undressed James, changed his pants, and put him in a pyjamas top. Then he threw back the covers in James' bed and, with a Wingardium Leviosa, James slowly levitated from his pram to land softly in his bed. After which Harry pulled the covers over him, tucking him in, and deposited the garish lion that was Snape's present into bed with his son, at the head of James' bed (that way, James will not be startled by the bright colours of the lion when he awoke, but would, after a bit of turning himself over in the morning and discovering the toy, perhaps amuse himself for the time it would take Harry to come for him after the Monitoring Charm went off, as it invariably had every morning, as soon as James awakened).
Harry left, closing the door softly behind him, tossing James' pants into the rubbish bin as he went downstairs to check on Snape.
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Snape wasn't in the sitting room.
Harry cast Incendio to light the fire-place, keeping the gloom away a bit with cheery, orange flames that reminded Harry of James' newest toy.
Was Snape in his lab? Harry wondered. He couldn't be starting to brew anything, could he? It was almost bedtime...
There was no door leading to Snape's potions lab. Nothing to open and close as one went down the stairs leading to Snape's work room – because it was a grey rectangle of smoke – that Harry found he could pass through easily.
Though it did keep James out. As well as all manner of potions smells, because whenever Snape brewed, the fumes did not penetrate up the stairs.
Harry realised that the magical partition also kept out unwanted sounds from reaching up the stairs, because Harry hadn't head a sound until he came through the grey fog.
THUD! THUD THUD!
Harry's immediately headed off in the direction of the sound.
What he saw made his heart clench and plummet...
Snape's outer cloak crumpled up in the corner. And Snape, his black robes fanning out in all directions around him, sat on the floor, glaring morosely at it...
Harry came closer and saw that Snape's right hand was hanging awkwardly, the fist purpling from a wrist that seemed to be jutting at a very odd angle...
"Snape?" Harry called out, but the man did not seem to hear him. Only when Harry came near enough that his shadow overshadowed Snape, did Snape bother to look up.
"Get. Out."
Those weren't Snape's eyes, looking so dully at Harry. In every single one of Snape's looks, passion always lurked. Mostly it was sneering contempt, sometimes grim satisfaction, or the conceited arrogance of a man who knew more than Harry ever would and he knew it...
Harry would trade any one of these looks for what he saw in Snape's eyes now.
Snape looked like a cornered animal.
Any more pathetic, and he'd be begging me to kill him...
Harry wasn't sure he could handle that.
"What's wrong with you?" Harry tried again. "Because if it's that school, it's not worth it. None of those wankers are worth i-"
"It's not the school, Harry." But he didn't elaborate further.
Harry knelt behind Snape, his arms going around the older man.
They sat like that.
Snape sighed shakily.
"It seems," he said so softly that Harry had to strain to hear, "I can neither die nor live." He laughed bitterly, and it was a broken, hoarse sound. There was a desperate quality to Snape's voice.
Harry just held onto Snape, letting him talk.
"If I die, I can't live. And I can't live, because I'm meant to die. And I can't be her father... if I'm dead..."
"Snape, if this is about the Ministry, we'll think of something. You don't have to remain dead..."
Snape's head turned to stare at Harry, his mouth turning into an ugly scowl.
"That's just it," he whispered, turning away. "I can't take care of her... because I'm dead. And I have to remain dead," Snape seemed to emphasise the word, "or never see her again..."
His hand seemed to grasp Harry's weakly, until Harry looked down and saw that Snape was holding onto Harry's hand with his injured one!
How can Snape even be moving that hand of his...let alone performing primitive grasping operations?
"Bloody vicious circle...No way out." His eyes found Harry's. "Do you know the way out, Potter? Would you tell me, if you knew?"
Harry thought that there must be one. And even if they have to make their way blindly in the dark, they'd find it.
He briefly realised that he was clenching Snape hard enough to bruise the man's ribs, and loosened his grip.
Snape didn't notice.
"Have you got a chance to look through the scrolls, then?" Harry offered quietly, words brushing against the back of Snape's black head.
"The scrolls?" Snape echoed. Then he laughed, and it was a bitter, hollow sound.
"Oh, sure I did," Snape said it so maliciously that it took Harry a moment to realise that Snape were answering in the affirmative.
"Let's see then, shall we?" Venom was dripping off of every word.
The hand that was previously grasping Harry's retreated to awkwardly burrow in Snape's robes. It was Snape's injured hand. Harry saw Snape wince a couple of times as he was searching, and wondered, dimly, if the man were not using his hurt hand on purpose, in order to cause himself more pain...
Snape pulled out his wand.
"ACCIO MINISTRY DOCUMENTS!" he roared.
One by one, the scrolls obediently flew into the room.
"To speak of impossible tasks, Potter," he snatched a scroll out of mid-air, pretending to intently read what it contained.
"PRIORI SCRIVITAS!" Snape touched his wand to the scroll and incanted, as ink, black as Snape's hair, spilled from the tip of Snape's wand and arranged itself in rows of spiky black handwriting that Harry recognised was Snape's.
"Would you like to see just how impossible is our little task, Potter?" Snape said softly, but Harry clearly heard the spite in his words.
Harry looked uncomfortable.
Snape seemed beyond caring.
"This one here looks especially promising," Snape informed Harry, voice dripping with irony. "I reckon it'll be a life sentence in Azkaban just for the contents of this scroll, alone." Snape thrust it into Harry's hands.
"Read it and weep, Potter!" Snape crowed malevolently.
How many Muggles did the Applicant torture?
List the curses and hexes used.
How many Wizards/Witches did the Applicant torture?
How many of them were Muggle-born?
List the curses and hexes used.
How many Muggles did the Applicant kill (either by torturing them to death or by the killing curse)?
How many Wizards/Witches did the Applicant kill...?
Name the spells used.
Briefly describe how the Applicant learned of the Dark Arts.
How many animals did the Applicant victimise while learning the Dark Arts?
Now sum together the numbers listed above and write in the Total Number of the Applicant's Victims.
SPECIAL NOTE ON ATTENUATING CIRCUMSTANCES: Please list all of the Applicant's victims that are currently still alive (if such exist).
Snape's answers stood out, spilling across the page, clarifying and damning all at once.
As Harry read on, all colour seemed to have drained from his face.
Snape did not fail to notice this.
"Just so you are not harbouring under any misapprehensions, Potter," he began, voice deceptively soft, because the words weren't. "They are NOT collecting all of this information for a Pardon. These are INTERROGATION QUESTIONS. The Ministry has no intention of granting any Death Eaters, living, deceased, young or old, permanent, or transient, any Pardons. And if I actually send out these scrolls, completed, I am going to wish I was dead. Because the only thing the Ministry will be kind enough to grant me would be a one-way ticket to Azkaban!"
Snape finished his diatribe.
"So," he continued, eyes burning into Harry's. "Do you still believe we can win this, Potter?"
Snape thought that he had rather won this argument. It was an empty, pointless victory, but considering that these were the only types he was allowed, of late...
Harry said something.
"I beg your pardon, Potter?"
He must have misheard...
"Yes." Harry said as he lowered the scroll, completely flabbergasting Snape.
"WHAT?" Shock, plain and simple shock, edged the last word in much the same way that spite, malice, irony, and sarcasm have decorated all of the man's previously spoken words.
He couldn't believe it.
And then he was completely floored.
"I believe in you, Snape. I have for a while now. I see it in your eyes."
Harry waved the scrolls in his fist.
"It is the reason I cannot allow your verdict to be anything but positive."
"Reason?" Snape repeated, eyes widening.
But Harry stared Snape down.
"Oh, come on, Snape! You regret every single damned crime that's written here." Harry thrust the scrolls at Snape, but they just ended up scattered all over the floor.
"It's what sets you apart from real criminals."
Snape smiled wryly at that; only a child would believe Snape wasn't a real criminal.
"You repented without going to Azkaban, Snape! Don't look at me like that. For anyone who knows you, it's easy to see that you have repented. And not just for the coward reason of not wanting to go to prison, either."
"Because you... You would tear your soul apart (Don't make that face! It's what you've been doing here when I came in, admit it!), if it would erase just ONE of your crimes."
"And if the Ministry for Magic won't pardon you, Snape, I will."
Damn you, Potter.
Turned away as he was, Potter did not see the tear that spilled down Snape's bearded cheek.
Snape covered his face with his hands.
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When Harry clung to Snape, as though Snape were something precious, someone worth saving...and he felt a connection, a sort of a tendril of warmth, flow between their touching hands...
"I meant what I said, Snape," Harry kissed the back of Snape's greasy head. "I'll help you."
"How is it... that you have so much faith, Harry?" Snape said it so softly... if faith was measured in volume, Harry would conclude that Snape had none.
"Because people like you don't belong in Azkaban, Snape." Harry told him firmly. "It's the same with Sirius..."
Snape did a double-take. "Don't you DARE compare us!" he burst out.
"Don't be a git. You know what I mean... Sirius wasn't a monster and neither are you!"
"If your idea is to convince me by comparing me to your Godfather, you're doing a piss-poor job of it, Potter..."
"Listen, Snape, I realise that Sirius did some pretty awful things, to you in particular..." Snape made a hmph sound. "To you in particular," Harry raised his voice. "But it wasn't intentional."
Snape scoffed. "Still not convincing me, Potter..." he warned.
"Just hear me out. I realise that it looked quite bad, I was present for one of your experiences with Sirius..." Harry pre-empted Snape. "I am sorry for that, but I'm glad I saw it. Because I understood something..."
Snape just looked at Harry, as though he'd lost his mind.
"I spend months, chasing down Sirius and Remus to ask them why they did that to you."
"And what reason did they give you?" Snape asked stiffly.
"That's just it. They couldn't name ONE. I think Remus just couldn't find a strong enough way to tell Sirius 'No.' And Sirius," Harry looked at Snape seriously, willing him to believe. "Sirius just never realised that what he was doing was truly so horrible that he needed to stop. Probably his upbringing taught him that – I'd be willing to bet that there were really bad things going on at Grimmauld Place when he was growing up... things bad enough for him to deny his entire family and sort Gryffindor. But, as far as bad examples go, his family had set him up with theirs as a special gift for him, and that's what you got saddled with when they poked fun at you. But it really wasn't against you, Snape."
"So what? Am I to forgive every insult now, just because it wasn't personal?" Snape mocked.
"I did," Harry said quietly. "It's the only way to free yourself of it all. Deep down, all people know that hurting others is bad. Problem is, they still do it because they saw adults do this when they were growing up."
Snape was quiet now, regarding Harry as though Harry had grown another head, and this new head was actually intelligent...
"Growing up, my aunt and uncle couldn't stand me. Only later did I find out that they hated me because I was magical, and they weren't. But back then, all I saw was that they hated me, and their dislike imprinted on their son, my cousin, Dudley, who saw their parents' feelings for me as reason to make my life miserable."
"How did you handle it, Potter?" Snape asked.
"I kicked his arse, mostly." Harry laughed and Snape's mouth curled up of its own accord. "So he'd know not to mess with me while he learned that bullying people wasn't on."
"And did your cousin actually come to this conclusion?" Snape asked.
"Actually, yes. It helped that I saved him from a Dementor that Umbridge sent against me, summer before my fifth year. I didn't realise it at the time, though. Just sorta noticed that he'd gotten quieter around me. As though he started thinking." Harry laughed. "Which, if you've ever seen Dudley, it's not easy to make him think."
"He's a bit like you, then," Snape commented.
"Don't be a git," but he smiled at Snape's words, anyway. "I'm bringing up Dudley and Sirius to show you that, yes, what they did – while not very cool, had reasons that had nothing to do with me or you being bullied, Snape. We wouldn't have understood it at the time it was happening though. But not you, not Sirius, and now, not Dudley (because I heard he is making good for himself, a respectful and respectable man, a job, friends who like him not for his ability to pound someone into the ground, then sit and pass gas on them, yes, he used to do that, but not anymore)..."
"But if you take the histories... Sirius', Dudley's, yours, and even mine (because I killed someone) – would land us all in Azkaban. Doesn't mean we belong there, though."
"Your argument is strangely persistent, Potter," Snape quietly offered. "I'd never have thought..."
"I'm just saying that there are certain people for whom the bigger crime is to be in Azkaban," Harry told Snape firmly. "You, for example. So if this rubbish," Harry spread his hand out, meaning the Ministry scrolls, "Leave us with no option except to lie to keep you out of Azkaban, then so be it. I'm sure there's magic allowing us to lie for very good reasons..."
"They have Veritaserum at their disposal, Potter..."
"So what?" Harry countered. "There's got to be something we can use, too."
Ah, now THIS was fun. Potter was talking about BREAKING RULES to help him. Snape thought he'd never see the day...
"We can use the Memory Charm, can't we?" Potter wouldn't let up. "We can say what we want to say, and then you can Obliviate me to remember only what we practised. That way, even under Veritaserum, I'd only be able to give information that would help you..."
Snape shook his head. "A skilled Legilimens can spot a Memory Charm at work..."
"Non-magical tools, then." The Gryffindor just won't get up. Something warm took up residence in Snape's heart. Comforting.
"Hypnotism or something," Potter continued. "It's a muggle mind trick..."
Snape had to smile at that. "I know, Potter. I grew up muggle..."
Right. Harry knew that.
Harry looked at Snape. Really looked.
No longer upset and throwing things, no longer punching his fist through a wall, Snape was feeling like his old self – smirking like the cat that's got the cream, and pointing out the flaws in Harry's ill-thought-out ideas.
Harry raised himself up, stretching, then extended a hand to Snape.
Snape winced as he got up, and his hand moved against his injury.
How could he have forgotten...?
"You're hurt..." Harry said, taking Snape's hand by the elbow, and settling it so it won't move to cause Snape an injury.
"Oh, that?" Snape brushed off Harry's concern. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing."
"I've long stopped caring about physical pain, Potter..."
"Then it's about time you started giving a damn, again!" Harry countered. He didn't like to swear, but if Snape didn't stop the habit, Harry feared it would infect him too. Bad habits were contagious that way.
To prove his point, Harry took Snape's hurt wrist and squeezed it, forcing Snape to remember that yes, he WAS injured, and they SHOULD do something about it.
Snape's eyes widened, but he did not otherwise react.
Harry turned Snape to face him and, taking out his wand, dragged it delicately over Snape's wrist.
Snape shivered at the contact, looking at Harry oddly.
Harry was copying the wand movements Snape used, when the latter healed Harry's Quidditch injury.
Snape felt... warmth. His hand tingled. It was a pleasant feeling.
And the wrist no longer looked disproportionately large, as the swelling decreased.
"Are you in any pain?" Harry asked, moving closer to Snape.
"Constantly." Snape replied and drew forward, meeting Harry halfway.
He caught Harry's mouth with his and they kissed.
"I meant your hand," Harry clarified when they pulled away. He was flushing.
"It doesn't bother me."
"But does it hurt?" Harry persisted.
Snape gave him the odd look again and shook his head. He didn't understand it. Many long years, the source at the end of all his problems was the Boy-Who-Lived. Now, however, it's as though he is a completely different Harry Potter. Had he changed, or had Snape himself just been so completely wrong about the boy?
"We are not wanking ourselves tonight, Potter," Snape told Harry seriously. "I want you inside me..." He was looking at Harry, almost eager...
"Have you ever done that before?" Harry asked. "I haven't. Maybe you'd better-"
"No." Snape countered. "You won't hurt me."
"I'd rather have something besides your word, Snape. Your pain threshold is ridiculous."
"Well, if you're so worried..." And Snape Summoned a medium-sized vial of Dittany off the shelf behind him, handing it to Harry.
But Harry still grabbed that almost-unopened bottle of Sunflower Oil from the kitchen...
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Harry leaned Snape against Snape's bedroom door to close it, as Snape took the opportunity to take Harry's face between his hands and snog the Boy-Who-Lived until he was breathless.
Without his Glamour in the way, kissing Harry became a whole new experience.
Snape set the vial of Dittany down on the night-table.
Cast a discrete Cleaning Charm on himself. Wordlessly, of course.
Harry threw the bottle of Sunflower Oil on the bed and started frantically tearing his clothes off, looking hungrily at Snape.
Snape's cock started to feel very uncomfortable in his pants at that look. Snape's own robes fell on the chair he kept by the side of his bed.
He pulled back the covers and extended his hand to the Boy-Who-Lived. When Harry took it, and Snape pulled, hard, Harry ended up sprawled on top of Snape in Snape's bed.
With his erection rubbing at Snape's.
Snape's erection really liked that.
Reaching a hand over for the dittany, Snape pours some into his hand, before taking himself in hand and running his hand over his erection, hardandfasthardandfasthardandfast, never taking his eyes off Harry.
No childishness tonight, Harry. Tonight we fuck. HARD.
Harry's eyes glazed over as they followed Snape's hand, up and down, as though hypnotised.
Fuck this, Snape thought, and poured half the vial of Dittany onto his cock, feeling it drip onto his scrotum. It felt so good.
He kept rubbing it in, though, raising himself up to reach his arse, and gestured at Harry to get the other pillow, which he placed under his bum.
He was so fucking hard now...
"Prepare me, Potter," he said slowly, pointedly. In control. "First one finger. Then two. Then three. Then... we fuck."
Harry understood as he sat on his haunches, and leaned in, kissing Snape's stomach, bony hips, the tip of Snape's cock, after which HE shivered and circled his finger around Snape's arsehole.
Snape was so certain that it was supposed to hurt. The first time.
And for him, it might as well BE the first time, it's been a long time since he'd had penetrative sex.
It didn't hurt.
"Scissor your fingers, Harry," he said, rubbing his erection. OH yes... Yes, yes, yes...
When he felt his inner muscles expand, Harry inserted a third finger.
Snape saw stars!
"Do... do that again," he said hoarsely. He had to grab himself to avoid coming right then and there.
Harry complied.
Snape's cock became even more, unbearably, hard. As though Harry had some kind of magical power over it...
"That's enough," he gasped and handed over the vial to Harry. "In me... now. Be generous with the lube."
Dittany was dripping off of Potter's cock as he aligned himself with Snape's hole and pushed inside.
So... So fucking GOOD.
Snape sobbed in pleasure.
Harry slowly started to inch in. "I don't want to hurt you..."
"You're... not... hurting me," Snape replied, pushing his arse onto Harry's cock. "Push into me... that's it..." Snape closed his eyes.
Harry gasped. "Snape... I'm gonna come soon."
"DON'T YOU DARE!" Snape's eyes flew open, and he grabbed Potter's balls.
That seemed to help.
When Potter was almost all the way in, Snape put his long legs around Potter's waist and pulled him closer. Involuntarily, Potter thrust his hips forward, his eyes going closed.
"You're so tight, Snape... Feel so good..."
"Yesss," Snape agreed, fisting his cock as Harry thrust shallowly, too more times. He needed more, ohgodohgodohgod...
"Faster..." He urged Potter and the boy struggled to comply... Snape fisted himself faster and faster, hand flying on his cock now. Gods, he was going to...
"I'm..." Potter wasn't even looking at Snape now. "Gonna...gonna..."
He felt Potter fill his arse first. Pulse after pulse after pulse, with Potter thrusting his hips forward as he came, brought Snape off as he shot pearly white come all over his hand and Potter's stomach.
Potter's deflated cock eventually popped out, and Potter fell, on top of Snape, to be cradled in Snape's arms.
His eyes were closed and Potter wasn't moving.
Snape's guess was that he was dead.
Inching his fingers onto the night-table, Snape reached over and grabbed his wand, casting a Wordless Cleaning Charm over them both, before Summoning the edge of the quilts that had fallen loose mid-coitus and covered himself and Potter.
"Nox," he whispered.
He was asleep before the lights fully dimmed, the last thought in his head was about how Potter looked as he came...
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Snape was seeing a very odd dream.
It was dark.
And Harry was speaking to him.
"Snape, take me..."
…
"Snape?"
"Hmmm?"
"Take me!"
Harry was rubbing himself on Snape's leg...
Take?
"Sleep, Potter. I'm not going anywhere..."
Something very soft and very warm was touching the head of his cock.
Snape's eyes snapped open to see Harry, sitting astride Snape and rocking himself against Snape's stomach, clutching his sizeable erection!
It's not a dream, then...
"I'm not even-" he began, looking down.
He was.
He was HARD.
Still, if it's not a dream...
Somehow, he had the presence of mind to reach for his wand and cast a inner Cleaning Charm on Harry's arse, before reaching over and upending the huge tub of a Sunflower Oil bottle that Harry must have placed on the night-table at some point tonight.
It hit him on the head and it fucking hurt.
Harry heard him, because the offending bottle was taken away immediately and replaced onto the night-table but further away, and Snape's hurting head was kissed by warm and pliant lips until the pain became a distant memory.
He pushed Harry away a bit, to sit on his legs, while he rubbed Dittany on his cock.
Then pulled Harry forward, and rubbed Dittany all over Harry's arse with the same hand.
He realised that Harry probably meant for Snape to fuck him, but he was half asleep and didn't want to bollix it up. So he just...
Pulled Harry under the covers with him, and, Harry's arse cheeks spooning Snape's erection, he was slowly rubbing himself against the cleft of Harry's arse until he was fully erect.
Delicious boy. Snape felt pre-come form at the end of his cock, and rubbed more fervently against Harry, growing harder at the thought of smearing his essence on Harry's hole, marking the Boy-Who-Lived as his own...
Then he reached over for Harry's cock, and met Harry's hand, grasping his own erection.
"Snape..." Harry trembled in pleasure, as Snape rutted himself on Harry's arse and squeezed Harry's fingers around Harry's own erection at the same time.
Harry moaned deliciously and that moan went straight to Snape's already hard and leaking cock.
Together, rutting and wanking and thrusting and pulling, Snape brought the boy to orgasm, and, a few seconds later, decorated Harry's arse with his own sticky offering.
A Cleaning Charm worked its way over himself, then he felt the bed dip as Harry settled back under the covers, his head on Snape's shoulder.
Harry's nose burrowed somewhere in the vicinity of Snape's armpit, but he seemed to let out a contented sigh as his arms wound, almost of their own accord, around Snape.
Snape didn't mind.
hpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpsshpss
He woke up at the same time as always, but as he made to get out of bed, an arm reached over and pulled him back. A mouth found his and kissed him softly.
"Why aren't you asleep?"
"Had to check on James. Haven't fallen asleep yet." Sleep-tinted lips whispered against Snape's own. "But I don't see any reason to fall back asleep now..."
Harry reached over Snape's head for the vial of lube and liberally coated Snape's cock, running his hand up and down Snape's manhood, and drawing a gasp out of the older man...
"Potter, one of these days, you will get EXACTLY what you are clamouring for!" Snape gasped out as Harry lingered on the head of Snape's cock, licking the salty, glistening head, and pointedly ignoring Snape.
"Oh, yesssss, please," Harry whispered against Snape's mouth, his breath sending shivers down Snape's spine. And somehow those shivers went right to Snape's cock... Harry was really too good at trying Snape's patience!
Abruptly Snape flipped them over and, for a brief moment that Harry's bum was in the air, Snape smacked it smartly. Harry moaned and Snape felt an erection being rubbed into his thighs.
Potter really was a wicked boy. To get off on... and here Snape had to smirk... being disciplined.
Now wonder he was an incorrigible rule breaker.
But he wouldn't have seen past Snape's unforgiving exterior if he wasn't...
Harry spread his legs as Snape knelt between them, the boy's erection bobbing up from his groin. Just to torture him, Snape wrapped his own hand around Potter's length and pumped him, reminiscent of what Potter had done to him...
Potter arched up off the bed, mewling."Oh, yes, please, please, more...!"
Snape tried not to think about the state of his own erection as he slicked up Potter's arse, but to succeed he had to take the edge off, even a bit, so he rutted the head of his cock against Harry's opening, not pushing in. He hissed when Harry thrust his hips forward, almost pushing Snape inside...
Any more of this, and he wouldn't need to penetrate the boy.
Slowly he inserted a finger into the boy's arse, wiggling it around, and stretched Potter's hole.
Harry moaned and rutted his arse into the bed, eyes glazed in pleasure, attempting to get friction on ANY part of his body, not only his erection.
"M-more!" he begged, and Snape accommodated him, adding a second finger and scissored them, stretching Potter's arse further, adding another finger and poking around until he found a particularly pleasurable spot...
Harry bucked upwards as Snape found it. He reached blindly for his own erection, gripping it...
Enough was enough.
Snape carefully took his fingers out of Potter's arse and replaced them with his cock, sliding slowly into Potter's slick, wet channel with trembling fingers.
He took a breath. And another. Then he started to thrust, first slowly, shallowly, and then faster.
Potter's hand working on his own erection matched Snape's rhythm as Snape rode Potter's arse, Harry's hand flying on his prick faster and faster until...
He came a half a second before Harry did, pumping himself in the boy's arse and thrusting himself once, too more times, and once again, before he felt Potter's arse clench around him as the boy came, spattering his own stomach and even Snape's chest as he did so.
Snape wondered how he could ever be expected to give Potter up. Completely spent, he ran his finger in a bit of Potter's come and brought it to his lips, tasting the boy's essence.
Potter watched him, eyes widening in surprise.
If it were anyone other than Potter, Snape wouldn't have done it.
Nothing else would be strong enough to make him want to embarrass himself like that.
Strangely enough, he did not mind so much with Harry.
Nor did he when Harry, reaching for him, pulled Snape down for a kiss, even though he would not fail to taste himself in Snape's mouth.
They kissed leisurely like this for a time, just enjoying the feel of the other's mouth, the post-sex taste, sleep-tinted and come mixed, and yet deliciously, infinitely, wonderfully, wonderfully pleasurable...
Snape pulled away when he saw Potter's eyes close, realising that it really was too early for too much of a good thing. For Potter, at least...
Disentangling himself from Potter, Snape got out of bed. Reaching for his wand, he cast a Cleaning Charm over himself and Harry. Then he tucked the covers up around the Boy-Who-Lived (so that he would not get cold and awaken, wondering where Snape had gone, Snape told himself) and got up.
He picked his clothing up from the floor and briefly wondered if he should toss them in the laundry...
He tossed the under clothes into the wash instead, getting fresh ones, washing up, and getting dressed in the loo, fixing his robes to lie flat and proper with the proper charms.
Before leaving, he took one last look at his bed, gazing fondly at Harry for a moment, an odd, almost content smile gracing his features.
Before he turned on his heels and, closing the door to the bedroom softly, went downstairs to greet the new day.
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After finishing his own breakfast, he left Potter's (and James') portion under a Warming Charm and went to the parlour to get his cloak.
When he failed to find them in the usual place, his brow furrowed, until he remembered just what he had done with it.
"Accio my cloak!" he whispered, pointing his wand at the entrance to his laboratory.
A crumpled ball of cloth flew at him from downstairs, and Snape caught it, saddened. He remembered the reason it was in such a state...
Something fell out of the pocket when he unfurled the cloak, and he bent down and picked it up.
The little car he got for her...
He held it between thumb and forefinger, contemplating.
What good was it if she wasn't around? Pathetic. As soon as she was gone, he'd turned into...
He shook his head to clear his thoughts.
A promise was a promise.
Smoothing out his cloak of even the minutest wrinkles with a spell, Snape came around the back of the house, to the shed he and Harry shared, and placed the little car on the hay-strewn floor. Finite Incantatem! he intoned and the car was back to its original size.
It looked a bit the worse for wear, after taking a tumble down to the floor, so he cast Reparo at it for good measure, and was gratified when the doors and mirrors of the little car straightened and even shone at him in the semi gloom of the shed.
Snape thought, looking closer, that the car looked brand-new (if not for a layer of grime, covering it). The Repair spell must have fixed all the injuries that the little cloud car had attained since its creation. He promised himself that he'd wash the little car before Aria came, in future...
If she ever did.
Damn it. And the day started out so well, too...
His thoughts grim as a thundercloud, Snape left the cottage and Apparated.
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The day failed to get any better when Snape appeared in Diagon Alley (disguised, of course).
He was asked to leave the Apothecary after destroying, as the shopkeeper called it, priceless, irreplaceable ingredients.
"It's rancid!" Snape said viciously as he took out his wand and blew apart the vial. It fell apart on the counter, splattering the tabletop. And the vendor.
The smell that wafted up from the broken remains of the phial left no room for doubt that Snape was right.
Unfortunately, no one cared as all the present customers shuffled to get out of the store, pursued by the awful stench.
The vendor glared at Snape as though it were all Snape's fault that he will now be short on business.
Oh yes. As though failing to cast a proper Preservation Charm were all Snape's fault.
Nevertheless, Snape chose to leave with the other customers, realising that the shopkeeper will not be agreeing with Snape's side of things.
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Snape decided to refill his stores of Dittany back home – and bought a few satchels of the dried herbs from the herbologist down the street from the ill-reputed potions store.
He made a stop in the Apothecary in Diagon Alley. Although more expensive, one could be sure about the quality of the ingredients there – and bought a small portion of ground pixie wings.
Upon leaving, the neighbouring store caught his eyes.
It wasn't open the last time Snape had been in Diagon Alley.
There weren't any rotten potions ingredients there, for which Snape was grateful.
The prices were exorbitant, and he realised that he would not be frequenting this particular store, Snape concluded as he observed the items under the display glass.
He had almost turned around to leave, however, when something did catch his eye.
The asking price of the items did not match the amounts of the adjacent items.
Snape raised his eyes and caught the vendor's look.
"Had something gotten your fancy, Sir?" the man asked politely.
Snape pointed to the items.
The smile disappeared from the man's features. He would not be making a profit off of this one, then...
"Relics. I only keep them out here for the history..."
"Why aren't you charging more for them?" Snape inquired.
"I suppose I could." The man laughed softly. "But I have too much conscience. They are worthless."
"But they are exquisite."
"Aye, and that is the only reason I keep them out here. They are good-for-nothing trinkets, in all respects."
"How so?"
"I cannot tell you how many times they were returned to me. Story's always the same. They don't work. Or they don't fit. Or even We put them on just fine, but they cracked and fell off..." The vendor sighed. "No. I have resigned myself that these items will stay in my shop until the end of my days. My children will probably be trying to sell them still, years down the line..."
"You mentioned something about relics..." Snape inquired.
"I still get a few in here, who still come in, asking me about the story, and purchase them, for posterity's sake. But I have always gotten them back. The magic's worn off, they say." He looked wistful. "Or perhaps there is a curse on them..."
The word curse peaked Snape's interest. "I would be interested to hear the story," he asked.
"Well, it goes like this," the man looked excited at the prospect of telling the tale, regardless of his view of the items in question. Perhaps he was related to Beedle, Snape thought.
"Years ago, many more years before our present time, they were supposedly Merlin's wedding present to Arthur and Guinevere." the man smiled at Snape. "Believed to have held a special magic all of their own. Nothing was too good for Merlin to give to Arthur, where Arthur's happiness was concerned. Such was his attachment to the boy. So he fashioned them, and, as is believed, even charmed them himself..."
"But alas. Even while the rings lasted, the love of Guinevere and Arthur had not. And Merlin, heartbroken at the farce of which Arthur and Guinevere had made of their bonding, cursed them where they stood for their faithlessness..."
Snape interrupted the man here, certain that the legend could not be accurate. "But Merlin had not killed Arthur and his wife..."
"Oh no," the kindly wizard agreed. "I meant the rings. But according to legend," here he pointed to the items Snape had picked out. "They cracked and could not be worn again. Merlin's lesson to Arthur. He would get no blessing, share in no part of the magic, until he restored his faith..."
Snape knew how it ended. Arthur had not stayed a husband to Guinevere. Neither was Guinevere particularly worried over the loss. Not when Sir Lancelot came along...
"May I take a closer look at them?" Snape asked.
"Sure, son," the vendor replied, rattling an entire chain of keys until, coming to the correct one, he fitted it to lock and opened the drawer.
They did not shine brightly, as such treasures were supposed to – glorifying their wearers' hands with their superficial shine, an inspiration not to love but avarice.
But, as Snape's hand warmed the two tiny metal pieces, he came to a decision.
"I would like to purchase them," Snape told the man.
The man's eyes widened. "Oh, lad, I like you. But whatever your are thinking of, reconsider. You can have your choice of any others..." his hand swept over the entire glass display. "Pick out any other pair. I'll give you a right good discount, too. I don't want to see you making a mistake, and if you go through with this, I just know you will be back tomorrow, asking for your galleons back. Trust my experience."
"Now you seem like a sensible young lad. Your young lady is mighty fortunate-"
But here Snape had to correct him.
"Our union is cursed. Whatever magic Merlin might or might not have worked, will hardly make a diference to us..."
The man's eyes widened... "But, surely..."
"My partner is already married," Snape said with a dull finality that echoed painfully in his own ears. "As I said, it makes no difference to us. I cannot afford any other such tokens. I would like to have something."
He didn't say it. But they both heard what he would have said. Something to remember.
"Alright, lad. If you say so," the man said, quiet, as he wrapped the items Snape had pointed out. He would have even discounted the items, but Snape, true to proper form, would have none of it. He paid the full asking price (it wasn't exorbitant, anyway, as he had to tell the kindly old man a few times before the latter finally acquiesced), and left the shop, the little wooden rectangular box hidden in the folds of his robes.