"It's all my fault" Harry sobbed as he clenched his teeth. He felt unable to move, perhaps he would spend the rest of his days hunched up on the floor of this disused corridor.
Perhaps it was best this way.
Better if everyone forgot who he was and who he was expected to be.
What else was he supposed to do? It's not as though being the chosen on came with a guidebook.
How he hated this.
He used to wish he could step into someone else's life for a while. Now he wished he could step out of life for good.
"What's your fault?" Snape's voice echoed though the corridor. Harry opened his eyes but refused to turn and face the man. For a moment he had forgotten the older wizard was even there.
"Everything" Harry whispered; his voice raspy as tears threatened his eyes.
"I hardly think that's true." Snape stated as though his words were a proven fact.
"Yes it is, Cedric would still be alive if it wasn't for me." Harry spat, though he couldn't deny the confusion in his voice. Why was Snape not jumping on this opportunity to destroy him further?
Kick him while he was down as it were?
This whole situation made no sense to Harry, much like everything else about his life these days.
"You didn't kill Cedric."
"No but I'm the reason he's dead."
"The Dark Lord is the reason he is dead." Snape stated, his trademark drawl resounding through the corridor.
"Then you believe me?" Harry looked over his shoulder, seeing the man as though for the first time.
Snape remained silent as he stepped closer to the boy.
"Come with me Mr Potter" He almost sighed as he reached down before wrapping his fingers around the young wizard's forearm.
Harry's eyes widened as he felt himself being raised to his feet.
What was Snape doing? Where was he taking him?
Harry opened his mouth to speak but no words came out as he stumbled behind the graceful professor.
Silence fell between them as Snape led them to their final destination. Harry supposed they were headed for the potion's classroom, but he didn't dare ask as students moved aside and stared at Harry, a mixture of bewilderment and concern in their eyes.
It wasn't long before Harry was shunted into a small room, one that was in fact all too familiar.
Snape's personal potions store cupboard.
Snape closed the door behind him before drenching the room in light with a flick of his wand.
Harry desperately wanted to ask Snape what they were doing here but a lump had formed in his throat.
"Now Mr Potter" Snape gazed down at the boy as though he were a jigsaw puzzle before whisking a bottle off a nearby shelf without even glancing at it.
Harry opened his lips, but Snape silenced him with a finger.
"Eat this." The professor stated, hardly giving the younger wizard a choice as he slid some kind of root into Harry's mouth.
"It won't hurt you I promise."
There was once a time when Harry would have spat the substance out without hesitation. No, more than that, he would never have allowed Snape to drag him all the way through the castle and into this confined space.
How times have changed.
Harry winced as he sunk his teeth into the substance, a bitterness swept through his mouth as his body began to slacken.
What was happening to him?
Harry suddenly felt Snape's body close against his, yet he found the sensation to be soothing as opposed to terrifying.
"Mr Potter," the professor began, sliding his fingers underneath the boy's chin before drawing his attention upward.
"What is it?"
"I admire you."
Harry's eyes bolted open despite the apparent sedative that Snape had slipped him. His surprise was such that he wanted to step back, to take in the crazy words that had just seeped from the professor's lips.
Yet, as he did so, he instantly found himself pressed against shelves lined with potions ingredients.
"I-I don't understand." Harry stuttered as he watched the older wizard lean forward until his lips were mere inches from his own.
These were the last words he had expected to leave Snape's lips.
The absolute last.
"You are your mother's son, you have her strength, her grace." Snape stated the words as though they were reminiscent of a time long forgotten before leaning in closer still.
Harry didn't know what was about to happen, at least that's what he told himself as he felt Snape's teeth sink into his neck once more.
Cedric's motionless face, his pale complexion, his lifeless eyes all faded from his mind as if on que.
Voldemort's resurrection could be but a distant nightmare as a warm trail of blood ran down his neck.
The graveyard was a distant world, one so far removed that he wasn't sure it had even existed himself.
All he knew in this moment was that the Harry of last year and the Harry of all years prior, felt like a distant memory, another person, another life.
Snape was doing the one thing no one else seemed capable of.
Dragging him out of himself.
It was only in that moment that he realised the proximity of Snape's groin to his own.
His old problem was back and at this point there was no use in denying it.
Why was Snape making him feel like this?
Harry gasped as Snape's finger's slipped under his shirt. His fingernails sunk into the boy's supple flesh, as though he were trying to tear the flesh straight from Harry's bones.
The younger wizard groaned, savouring the pain, he deserved it after all. He deserved every bad thing that happened to him in his life.
He was garbage.
To be thrown out when he was no longer useful.
Snape's hold grew stronger still until it finally happened.
Harry could no longer contain the energy building between his legs.
He could no longer help himself as he ground his groin against Snape's. He had no idea how Snape would react to this but at that very moment he couldn't say that cared.
"You are full of surprises Mr Potter." Snape raised an eyebrow as he gazed down at the boy, whose expression was pleading for more of anything the man had to offer.
"Please." Harry begged, his voice barely above a whisper as he stared up at the man.
Snape was key to unlocking his salvation, the doorway to another world, one that promised all that he lacked in this life.
A slight smirk formed on Snape's lips, yet it lacked the sadistic delight and sarcastic folly of all those that had gone before it.
It seemed for the first time to be, dare he suggest, sincere.