Haha bet you all thought this story was dead, well you were wrong! I had major writers block and of course I had to mourn my precious baby (this story will stay off cannon, no ones killing my Snape!) thank you for those that reviewed, let me know what you think of this chapter too!
Chapter Thirteen - For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
Severus cradled the back of Harry's head with his hand, his customary sarcasm stilled by the boy's obvious distress. Here was the heart of it, that something that was haunting the boy, causing him to tread the very edge of madness. He refused to think about that crazed vermillion flash in Potters emerald eyes. He rubbed gentle circles into the Gryffindors back and leant down slightly "What's wrong Harry, was there….. unpleasantness with Granger and Weasely" If there had been he was going to kill them both, slowly, he needed Potter up and about before school started or the words professional misconduct were going to be staring him right in the face.
Still pressed flush against his chest Potter shook his head, Merlin but the boy was cold, it was as if he'd pulled him from the Pool all over again. Almost automatically his eyes dipped to examine Harry's wrists, intact but for the almost invisible scarring. Sighing Severus stood up and found the boy was wrapped around him like a pet python. It was quite, pleasant, to be clung to in this way he quite liked the utter trust it represented and….. he shook his head against any other thought that might surface and trod deliberately back into the bedroom.
He gently unravelled Harry and slid him into bed before climbing in himself, luckily robes could double as nightwear without any trouble, and both he and Harry were more comfortable that way, although he'd seen the boy naked numerous times. Harry's eyes were closed, but they flickered open when Severus let his weight dip the mattress. And they were almost black in the dim light from the banked fire, the expression in them however was easily read, it was need pure and simple, then the lids fluttered closed again. Severus carefully rummaged in his bedside drawer before taking out the vial of sleeping potion he kept there for emergencies. He popped the top with his thumb and gently pressed the rim against Potters lips, the boy drank without opening his eyes, such trust, such stupidity. For a moment a smile touched his mouth as he almost felt the potion take effect in the unknotting of Harry's muscles and he laid himself down beside him and composed himself for sleep.
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Harry found himself on that dark beach beside its warming green fire, and he let himself feel relaxed. Nothing bad ever seemed to happen here the other had never pursued him across the starlit shadowy sand. A moment later Snape strolled in, like some shadowed seraph come to inspect the state of Harry's soul. The professor sat down and Harry hesitated for a moment before grinning to himself, it was his dream Merlin damn it, no one would ever know.
He strode across the beach in about three strides and gently placed himself in his professor's lap. For a moment there was utter stillness and then arms were wrapped around him as perfect pianists fingers traced the velvet of his collar "what am I going to do with you Potter?" the midnight voice slid down his spine and wrapped around all the inner parts of him that ached and hurt and somehow soothed him. Here there was no doubt, no fear, just the two of them and the rumbling crash of the surf somewhere out in the blackness, far enough away to leave the shady sand crumbly and warm but still close enough to be a peaceful susurrus.
Leaning back into the light embrace of someone not so long ago he'd seen as a mortal enemy he laughed, a low rusty sound, but the chuckle was real as opposed to the light forced laughs he'd produced for his friends in the waking world "I'm seventeen Severus, do you really want me to answer that" for a moment all was still, even the steady up and down motion of the chest behind him stilled and then a small gurgle escaped the older man, a laugh just as rusty as Harry's own. "No I don't, insolent Gryffindor" the words were stern, but the tone of voice wasn't the laugh remained woven throughout the speech like gold thread in tapestry.