Chapter 7

~*~ 8 years ago ~*~

"I can't get this bloody hand movement right," Harry growled as he flexed his wand hand, his wrist beginning to ache.

"I've told you" Severus said, coming to stand next to him, "it's basically and inverted Z with a large sweeping motion on the last stroke."

"That's what's tripping me up," Harry said with a sigh. "My hand automatically wants to do a Z the right way around and in that split second it takes me to correct the movement you manage to knock me off my feet."

"It's a difficult shield; you won't be able to master it quickly."

"I know," Harry said, pushing the hair out of his eyes. "It's just frustrating."

"Come on, let's take a break. That's enough for now."

Tired and fed up, Harry walked with Severus to the cottage's garden and threw himself down at the table. They'd been at it all morning and Harry had made very little progress, which was getting to him more than he cared to admit. He'd managed to master a couple of the shields Severus had taught him but he was still much further behind than he wanted to be.

"Stop fixating on it," Severus told him, pouring them both a glass of lemonade.

"Easier said than done," Harry said moodily.

He sipped at his lemonade and tried not to look like a moody teenager. He knew this was important, more than important, his life depended on it and the pressure of that was beginning to weigh heavily on him. On top of that, though he was embarrassed to admit it, he wanted to impress Severus and he knew he was failing in that endeavour.

Their training history was hardly glowing and Harry wanted to prove to the man that he wasn't that stupid teenager anymore. He wanted to meet the man as his equal, to prove that he was just as competent and just as skilled. Instead he feared he was simply proving the man's former beliefs about him right.

"What if we eliminated the stumbling block?" Severus said, interrupting his morose thoughts.

"Mm? Stumbling block? My ineptitude you mean. You want to eliminate me?"

Severus quirked an eyebrow at him and said, "As much as I would have relished that in the past, I meant the wand movement. It's clearly an impediment."

"You mean perform the shield wandlessly?"

Severus nodded. "Why not? You're capable of wandless magic, especially in a battle scenario; why not make life easier for yourself?"

Harry considered it, leaning back in his chair with a frown. He could perform wandless magic and usually when under some form of threat or peril. He was an instinctive practitioner of magic; he'd never had a head for theory and he did better when he had to think on his feet and react to a situation.

"It's just a suggestion, something we can think about for our next session."

"Aren't we carrying on today? I thought we were just taking a break."

Severus smirked at him and said, "The only way to get you to stop is to lie to you. I have an afternoon of potions to attend to that I can't put off."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling deflated.

"You've pushed yourself as far as you can go today. You'll get no results working to the point of exhaustion."

"Yeah," Harry said with a sigh. "I guess you're right."

He was tired, he was exhausted if truth be told and he only had himself to blame. Severus had been uncharacteristically fair with him and had refused to let him work himself to death but Harry was starting to get a little dogged in his efforts.

"I um…I might stay out here and practise," he ventured, trying to aim for nonchalant.

"Oh no you won't," Severus said firmly. "You'll deplete your magic if you carry on like this. You can come inside and help me."

Harry was going to make a snide remark about how helping Severus would hardly constitute a rest but he enjoyed the time he spent in quiet companionship with the man tucked away in the cellar.

"Alright, fair enough," he said, a little thrill going through him at the thought of being in close confines with the man.

Severus eyed him suspiciously, clearly expecting more of a fight. "Come on then," he said, getting up and heading back to the cottage.

Harry followed him inside and down to the cellar, casting a quick cleaning charm on himself as he went. He waited by the bench he normally used while he watched Severus move around the room gathering what he needed.

"You're making Wolfsbane?" he asked as he catalogued the ingredients.

Severus looked over his shoulder at him, on eyebrow slightly raised. "Becoming an expert now, are we?"

"Just paying close attention," Harry said with a smile. "What can I do?"

"Strip the flowers from these aconite plants. Chop the roots evenly into one inch strips."

"I think I can manage that," Harry said, spreading the plants out and setting up the chopping board.

He set to his task while Severus began prepping the moonwort, finding the largest leaves and setting them aside to be ground down into a fine paste. The man really managed to make an art of potion-making and Harry was impressed every time he watched him.

He managed to make it look so effortless, his movements graceful and his expression focused. He rarely consulted books or notes; it was all in his head and each fragment of knowledge was readily at his fingertips. He was a genius, really, and Harry had never met anyone who could match Severus' intellect.

"You're um…you're still making this for Remus?" Harry asked.

Severus nodded, still focused on his task. "Personal feelings aside, it's the right thing to do. I wouldn't want it on my conscience if he hurt anyone when I could have prevented it."

Harry continued to chop away at the roots, trying to keep them as even as possible. "I don't blame you…for not liking him…or Sirius…or my father. They were…pretty fucking awful to you."

"It's in the past," Severus said stiffly. "Many people are…unpleasant during their school years. It was a clash of personalities."

"It was more than that," Harry said, uncomfortable and wondering why he was pursuing the matter. "It was four against one. They persecuted you because they could."

"It doesn't do to dwell on these things…" Severus said, still not looking up at him, his posture taut.

"It's just…" Harry said, starting to feel itchy about the conversation. "Were they your reason for joining the Death Eaters?"

Severus did look up then and Harry immediately regretted the question. The man's dark eyes were guarded and his jaw was set firm.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, his cheeks heating. "I had no right to ask that. I um…I can go…if you want me to."

After a pause that felt like an eternity, Severus eventually shook his head and said quietly, "No…no you don't have to go."

"I shouldn't have asked, I – "

"It's a valid question," Severus said quietly, still looking as though he'd like to do a runner at any moment. "I don't blame you for wondering."

"It's not of my business," Harry said, apologetically, wishing he'd never opened his mouth. "It's just…with my father and the others…I could see how they might have…pushed you into making that decision."

Severus took a deep breath and wiped his hands as he leant against the workbench and Harry watched him while his pulse thudded in his ears. He'd wondered about it for ages and had carried around the guilt his father's actions had caused him, but it still didn't mean he had any right to be granted access to Severus' most private thoughts.

"Your father and his friends…were one factor among many," Severus said finally, his voice low. "The groundwork had been laid throughout many years…by the time I was recruited I was already prime material. I was a loner, an outsider, miserable and angry. When Lucius and his friends took an interest in me…I was flattered…grateful."

He paused, his expression pinched and his body language guarded. "I didn't…I didn't hate muggles but I hated my father and that was enough to…fan the flames. He represented everything that was bad, that was…cruel…and I wanted my revenge on him. Every muggle…became him and I was easily persuaded that our…campaign was right, was justified."

The man looked haunted and Harry cursed himself for making him confront his demons in such a way. "What changed your mind?" he asked, deciding he might as well go ahead and damn them both.

To his immense surprise, Severus actually smiled. True, it was a little strained and not exactly an expression of pure joy, but it was a smile, nevertheless.

"You did," Severus said, his voice so soft Harry nearly missed it.

"Me?" he asked with a confused frown.

Severus nodded, his expression now sombre. "When the prophecy was revealed…when I realised what he intended to do…that he would happily kill a child…I was finally snapped back to my senses. I was…horrified at what I'd become, at this…ideology I'd been following. I knew I couldn't undo the damage I'd caused by being part of those bastards…but I could save you."

Harry's breath caught in his throat and he felt his palms prickle at the man's declaration. To know that he was Severus' reason for such a life-altering change was humbling and overwhelming at the same time.

"I don't know what to say," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Seems like you've been saving my backside for longer than I could have imagined."

Severus gave a strained laugh and said, "It seems to be my duty."

"Duty?" Harry echoed, troubled by the word for reasons he didn't quite understand.

Severus met his eyes, quiet for a moment, before he said, "I'll admit it's less so about that these days."

"Oh," Harry said softly. He wasn't sure exactly what that meant but he knew it made a strange kind of warmth spread through his chest. He cleared his throat and said, "I guess we'd better get on with this. Sorry for the interruption."

Still looking a little shell-shocked, Severus nodded and turned back to his work station. There was more to be said, Harry knew that; there were deeper and darker demons in Severus' past but he couldn't and wouldn't press the man any further. He wasn't sure either of them could cope with any more soul-bearing today.

They worked in silence, Harry sneaking glances at the man every now and again. There was so much about him that he didn't know, didn't understand, but wanted desperately to learn. He found him so compelling, so fascinating, and he wanted to build a clearer picture, rather than the idea he had of him from his childhood.

"Done?" Harry asked when Severus finally stepped back from the cauldron.

"It just needs to rest now for three days. Hopefully they'll send someone to pick it up; we don't want to risk any owls."

"Yeah, let's hope it's Ron again, I'm starting to miss the git. I'll just finish cleaning up then I'll start on dinner."

"I can cook," Severus offered, and Harry looked at him in surprise. "Well it only seems fair; you've cooked since we've been here. I should do my fair share."

"Can you cook?" Harry asked, having trouble imagining the man pottering happily around the kitchen, a cook book in one hand and wooden spoon in the other.

"I'm a Potions Master," Severus said, sounding offended. "I can manage a meal."

Harry scoffed and said, "We've already established that doesn't work in reverse. I can cook but I can't make potions."

"I like to think I'm a tad more adept than you," Severus sniped, but it had no real bite to it. "Dinner will be on the table at seven sharp."

Deciding to leave Severus to it, Harry escaped up to the living room and settled himself into one of the big, comfortable armchairs with a book. He'd had enough of anything serious for one day so decided to forgo the tomes on spell theory he'd been reading and chose a swashbuckling adventure story instead.

He kept hearing various noises from the kitchen and, after a while, he was sure he could hear Severus swearing. He had no intention of investigating; Severus would have his liver if he intruded, he was sure of that, but he couldn't help but feel just a little gleeful at the thought that Severus couldn't do everything perfectly.

He tried to keep his attention on his book but the noises became louder and more frequent. It was when he smelled smoke wafting through from the kitchen that he decided it was probably time to intervene. He made his way out of the living room and paused on the threshold to the kitchen, trying not to burst out laughing at the sight he was greeted by.

Severus was standing in a cloud of smoke, swatting at something blackened on the stove top with a tea towel. There was a pot of something bubbling over and a dish full of withered, washed-out vegetables sat sadly on the countertop.

Still holding his laughter in, Harry extracted his wand and vanished the whole miserable mess. Severus turned around, his cheeks flushed as he said crossly, "That was salvageable!"

"No it bloody wasn't," Harry said, giving in finally and snorting with laughter. "I like barbeque but that's taking things too far."

"I simply…misjudged the timings."

"Mmhm," Harry said, looking around at the bomb site the kitchen had become.

"Oh don't look so bloody smug," Severus said, chucking the tea towel down viciously.

"What?" Harry asked innocently. "I thought potions skills and cooking skills were interchangeable."

"Gloating doesn't suit you," Severus groused, slamming around in the cupboards until he found the brandy. He poured himself a very large glass and threw himself down at the table with a huff.

"Anyone ever tell you you're kind of cute when you sulk?"

The words were out of his mouth before he could step them. He felt his face flush so fast it felt like he was on fire. Severus looked up at him, his eyebrows risen in surprise as he looked as though he was trying to work out if he was being mocked.

"Indeed?" he said, leaning back in his chair, taking a long, slow sip of his brandy.

"I mean…I just meant…I was…I was teasing," Harry stuttered, his mouth feeling like sawdust.

"Obviously," Severus said with a self-derisive snort.

"No," Harry said with a frown. "You're not…I mean I think…you're very – "

"Oh save your blushes," Severus said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm perfectly aware of what I am."

"No, but…I mean…I think that you're, well, not cute, you're not a puppy, but you're…handsome."

"Don't be daft."

"Look, you might not be everyone's cup of tea, sure, but I think you're…well…my cup of tea."

If it was possible, Severus' eyebrows rose even higher and Harry couldn't believe he'd just admitted that to the man. Why not just throw himself at Severus' feet and declare his unbridled lust and beg to be carried off to the bedroom for a night of sensational debauchery?

"I…I'm going for a walk," he announced, his feet carrying him out of the kitchen before he could register what was happening. He found himself standing outside the cottage, feeling shell-shocked and wondering what the hell had just happened. He wondered if perhaps he should chuck himself off the cliff and end it all.

~*~ Present day ~*~

Severus had been right; storming off and taking himself on a long walk had done him no favours. By the time he returned to the cottage he was walking with a pronounced limp and he was in agony. Tears pricked his eyes as he slammed the door open, and he felt a hot ball of resentment twist in his chest, furious that he was now so disabled he couldn't even go for a walk without feeling as though his body was a withered old cadaver.

He wrenched off his cloak and hung it on the peg, Severus appearing from the living, concern evident on his face.

"Don't," Harry warned. "Don't say I told you so."

"I had no intention of saying any such thing, not when I know you won't listen. Where's the worst of the pain?"

Harry considered not answering, or perhaps telling the man to go hang himself, but it would get him nowhere. "My lower back and hips," he said eventually.

"Come down to the cellar," Severus instructed, turning and heading for the stairs without waiting for a response from Harry.

With a sigh, Harry followed, limping gingerly down each painful step, gripping the handrail tightly to keep himself from toppling down the narrow stairs. He came to stand next to Severus at the workbench, watching as the man sorted through an assortment of vials and rolled up his sleeves.

"Do you remember when I used to treat your hand with Valerian root?" Severus asked.

Of course I bloody remember it, Harry thought, amazed the man could ask him such a question. He could still remember the feel of Severus' long fingers massaging the mixture into his sore hand, the gentle touch sending goosebumps all over his skin.

He could do nothing but nod in response and Severus said, "I've made a variation of that mixture. I'm hoping to combine it with your physical therapy to help with the pain."

"Great. Give it here then and I'll try it out," Harry said, wanting nothing more than to make his escape from the bloody cellar as quickly as possible.

"I hardly think you'll be able to use it effectively on your own," Severus said, confirming Harry's worst fears. "Take your shirt off and turn around."

"I – " Harry began, his mouth dry. He could barely cope with Severus touching him through his clothes; the muscle manipulation was a kind of exquisite torture and he wasn't certain Ron hadn't dreamt it up just to torment him.

"Best get on with it or the pain will only get worse."

With great reluctance, Harry yanked his shirt over his head, wincing at the pain it caused him. He avoided Severus' eyes and turned around, wishing he could be anywhere but there at the moment.

He took a deep breath as he felt Severus standing directly behind him, and moments later warm fingers were rubbing the thick paste into his skin. It was unbearable. He hadn't felt Severus' hands on his skin in years but his body remembered how it felt all too well. He tried to focus his attention on the beams above his head, letting his eyes roam over the intricacies of the wood, but it did little good.

Severus worked the mixture into his lower back, the pressure painful but the least of his worries. He clenched his jaw firmly as Severus' hands continued their path over his body, wanting the whole wretched experience to be over as soon as possible…or perhaps last forever, he wasn't sure.

He tried to comfort himself with the notion that Severus' actions were easing the pain slightly, that the aching in his hips and the shooting pains down his legs were beginning to subside but he could concentrate on nothing but Severus' hands. He'd come up against some tough things in his life but this had to be the worst by far.

He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing as Severus' fingers worked into his muscles. Memories, unbidden, came flooding to the surface of his mind and he tried to squash them back down viciously. He couldn't do this, not when he'd worked so hard to keep them all shut away in a little box in his mind for so long.

Severus' fingers dug a little deeper and Harry's breath hitched. The movement paused and Severus' voice came close to his ear as he said, "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Harry said, choked. "I um…I just…"

"It'll help, I promise."

"I can't," Harry said, feeling the heat pulse from Severus' palm. "I can't do this. It's too much."

The hands left his skin and Harry immediately felt bereft even though it was a relief. "I hadn't realised my touch had become so abhorrent to you."

The words cut through him like a knife and he turned around to see Severus had already moved away from him. "I didn't – " he began, but the man had moved to the sink and had his back to him.

Feeling wretched for reasons that had nothing to do with the pain thundering through him, he grabbed his shirt and made a run for it back up the stairs.

AN: Ok, so it's still depressing but...we'll get there, I promise. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought.