A/N: this is the R rated version. The NC17 version is posted in inkstain archive and Dusk Till Dawn archive.
"For in truth it is life that gives unto life – while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness."
Part I
Funny that one thing can have so many meanings to different persons. Take the full moon for an example. For many, full moon is the most romantic time in a month; time when they can spend their time watching the night sky or playing in the wilderness while basking in its silver light. For some people, full moon is the best time to collect herbs and plants needed for potion making. For a few unlucky ones, like Professor Lupin, full moon means woe, pain, dread, and loss of humanity that is inflicted on them without any means to escape.
Scars are another example, Harry mused. The scar on my forehead meant many things. At first, it symbolized freedom from fear, victory of a pure love against the darkness, and a sacrifice from a mother to her son. As I grow, the meaning changed. It turned to be unwanted fame, connection with the evil, pain and misery as I am forced to watch every victim suffer and die at the hand of my enemy. But for the rest of the Wizarding world, this scar means hope that darkness can be defeated no matter how strong it is. It also means responsibility. That I must once again save the Wizarding world from darkness once again, though I do not know the way.
Harry laughed inside. I sound like Frodo, he mused. But unlike him, I've never chosen to bear this burden. And he always had his Sam, while I lost my friends one by one. It's all my fault! If only I were stronger… A fat tear escaped the corner of his eye as he remembered his best friend.
"Harry?"
Harry wiped the tear away hastily. He looked up and saw Madam Pomfrey bringing him a vial of Potion. He knew instantly that it was the Dreamless Sleep Potion. Hell, he had not been able to sleep properly without it since his fifth year. Not since several deaths that followed Cedric's. Most of them were his closest friends, died because of their proximity to him. How would he ever save the world when he could not save his friends? When he could not save himself?
"Harry, drink this. You need some rest," coaxed Madam Pomfrey, handling him the vial.
Harry drank without any fuss and lay down. At least he could forget for a little while.
*/`*/`*/`*/`*/`*
Some time later he woke up. He knew he wasn't in the Infirmary any longer. This place was dark and damp. He must be in his lover's room.
"Harry?" A familiar voice called him gently. Strange, the boy thought. Having slept with Severus Snape for months, the stern Potion Master had never shown any kind of gentleness, not even when both of them bathed in afterglow. But then again that was why Harry chose him, because his lover was anything but gentle. Harry was not accustomed to gentleness. And thus he went to the one he knew would treat him like he had always been treated, with harshness and mockery. Harshness is truer than tenderness and mockeries don't enclose high expectations as praises do.
Besides, people who love him would end up dead. Like his parents. Sirius. Seamus. Ron. Oh, God. The realization of what had happened hit him like a ton of bricks.
"Harry?" The voice called him again; more worried this time. Snape's concern disappointed him. Snape had *never* showed any kind of concern to him, but now he changed too, like the rest of the world. Gone was the only sturdy thing that he could ever rely on. Harry cried.
"Harry? What is the matter? Anything hurt?"
"Yes!" Harry screamed. "Yes yes! Everything hurts. Everything!"
"Where? How? Do you want potions?" There. The concern again. The pity. Harry wept. He never wanted Snape to pity him.
"No one understands," he whispered while wiping his tears away, ashamed of himself for breaking down in front of his nemesis and bed partner.
"Harry…" Snape put his arms around him. "Harry, love, please talk to me."
Love. Love. Harry didn't want to be loved. Harry didn't want someone to die because of him again.
He wrenched free from his lover's embrace. "Love? Love? Don't love me! Don't ever love me!" He was hysterical.
Snape hugged him tightly, refused to let go even though his young lover tried to free himself. Finally Harry yielded to the embrace, broke down, and cried all his pain away.
"I am sorry." Harry sniffed. He lay beside his lover while Snape's arm draped around his waist.
"It's okay." Snape pulled him closer and tucked Harry's head under his chin.
Harry did not answer. Part of him was glad of Severus's unexpected change of demeanor, but larger part of him was terrified and confused.
"Your body needs rest, Harry. Sleep now. Everything will be all right tomorrow." Snape cooed at him while his hand was rubbing Harry's back in circle, calming him.
Too tired to think, Harry complied and slept without any potion for the first time in years.
*/`*/`*/`*/`*/`*
Harry woke up refreshed and calmed. His lover's tenderness, no matter how hard he fought to hate it, had certainly done wonders to his broken soul, perhaps because he had had so little tenderness in his life. He felt less tense, less depressed, as if some part of the burdens had been cast away. Of course, his more cynical part of the brain mused, it isn't true. It's just another illusion life has thrown upon you. Just like the illusion that magic doesn't exist. Or that Hogwarts is the safest place on Earth.
Or that *you* are invincible.
Who said that? I certainly never think I am invincible.
Oh?
Shut up.
Why should I?
Because you are wrong!
No, I am not.
You are wrong!
No, I am not.
You are!!
I am not.
Shut up!
No.
Shut up!
No.
"Shut up!!!" Harry screamed. "Shut up!" He closed his ears with his hands and continued screaming.
Snape ran into the room and hugged him. "Harry, Harry, everything will be fine. Shh…" He rubbed the sobbing boy's back and crooned words of comfort.
"I can't take it anymore," Harry sobbed.
"I know. It will be fine, Harry." Snape kissed Harry's head.
"You lie."
The older man did not know how to answer. He knew Harry was right, he *was* lying. Not even Dumbledore could say otherwise in time like this. Oh, God! What he wouldn't give to ease Harry's pain, to be able to promise him that there would be no more pain, no more tears, no more lost. Snape wept at his helplessness.
Few moments later, when Harry was sound asleep, drugged by the strongest of Dreamless Sleep Potion, he left the dungeon and went to the place he had never visited for twenty five years.
He went to the chapel.
*/`*/`*/`*/`*/`*
"I thought you were an atheist, Severus." Dumbledore entered the small chapel and sat on the front bench. This place had been neglected for hundreds of years ever since the Inquisition took place, the reason why Muggles and Wizards went separate ways. Muggles had rejected them, tortured them, and killed them for the sake of this religion. That was why this place was locked: too sacred to be destroyed, for this place was the Founders' legacy, but useless, for the wizarding world had deserted this faith and its laws. When Dumbledore became the Headmaster, he cleaned and opened this place. Only a handful of people came.
Snape was kneeling in front of the altar when Dumbledore came, finishing his not-so-saintly prayer and basking in the tranquility of this place. "I am," he answered. "I don't want to believe in a Deity who is cruel enough to order His people to annihilate people who don't go His way, who are different from what He thinks it's supposed to be."
"Me neither."
"But you opened this chapel. You visit this place at least once a week. Why?"
"I just want to give a chance for Muggleborns who are raised as Christians to continue their devotion if they wish to do so."
"Only that? No personal reason?" Snape raised an eyebrow.
Dumbledore shrugged. "How about you? Why are you here, Severus?
"I want to tell Him that…" He stared at the Christ figure on the cross. "… that unless He does something, His beloved Muggles will be obliterated by Voldemort. Before that happens, He better help us destroy that maniac as quickly as possible."
"What a selfless prayer." The Headmaster smiled.
Snape snorted. "I am a Slytherin, Albus, kindly give me some credit. And no, it's not a prayer, I am just telling Him the truth, so that He can consider if He is willing to let Voldemort reign or not."
"You wish for Voldemort's destruction for Harry. Still selfless, I think."
Snape sighed; his shoulders slumped. "I don't know what else to do, Albus. He is broken enough as it is. I don't know if he can stand more pain. Ron's death is the last straw. He has been hysterical since he came back."
"Do you know what happened? Were you summoned that night?"
Snape got up and sat beside the Headmaster. Rubbing his sore knees, he spoke softly, "Malfoy had managed to kidnap Ron Weasley to bait Harry. When I arrived, he was already dead though Harry wasn't there yet." Snape laughed bitterly, "We know that even Harry shows up, Weasley will never escape alive. But that foolish boy with his idiotic Gryffindor naïveté *never* understands that Voldemort *doesn't* play fair. So, away he went, only to find his best friend dead. He suffered some Cruciatus before I had a chance to turn down the Apparation ward unnoticed and signaled him to flee; he suffers Cruciatus so many times that he has somehow developed resistance to it. He Apparated. I followed his lead and searched for him. I found him unconscious near the Forbidden Forrest."
"I see." Dumbledore's voice was grave. He stared at the cross, lost in his thought.
"What do you see, Albus?" Snape's voice was composed, but his heart was not. He wanted to strangle the old man. Damn you, Albus, he thought. The boy is only seventeen! What do you see in him but another sacrificial lamb? What do you see but another "Messiah" crucified to save his people? What do you *see*?
The old wizard did not answer, as if he knew what was raging in his spy's mind.
Snape felt his blood was boiling even more. He took a deep breath and controlled himself. "Do you know why Voldemort hates Muggles, Dumbledore?" He changed the topic.
"Because of his upbringing. Because he was raised among Muggles who treated him badly."
"So does Harry. But why doesn't he turn out to be like Riddle, Albus?"
"Because he chooses not to be."
"True. If he can help it."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in silent question.
Snape toyed with the folds of his robe. "He fights as hard as he can. But even the most resilient of persons has his limit. I am afraid Harry has reached his. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. If this incident doesn't make Harry stronger, he will be broken. Either he will be mad, or he will die. I am afraid, Albus. I am so afraid."
Dumbledore put his hand on Snape's. "I do too, Severus. But unlike me, you *can* do something."
"Do what? He wants me just for sex, to release his hormonal urges."
"He needs you for more than physical release. He needs you for something that only you can give."
"What?"
"Love. No one else left to care for him now that Sirius and Ron have passed away."
"I can't."
"Why? I know you love him. That is why you allow him to bed you, isn't it? Why do you agree to commit the act that makes you hate yourself: defiling the innocent, though I can assure you it is *him* who is taking advantage of you and not the opposite. You are bearing yet another pile of guilt for him. And now, you are praying for him, kneeling in front of the Deity you despise and deny, sacrificing your pride, pleading for his happiness. Oh yes, you do love him though you may not realize it."
"I know I love him," Snape snapped. "But Harry never loves me. He never *wants* my love. He wants me to fuck him to oblivion and insult him to my heart's content. Tonight, he was mad even at me for treating him kindly."
"What we want and what we need is often a different thing. Surely you know that." He sighed. "Help him, Severus, for no one else can." Dumbledore rose and left before Snape could reply.
*/`*/`*/`*/`*/`*
Part II
It was very ironic that the Headmaster of Hogwarts not only turned a blind eye on the most frowned upon relationship in this school, he was also encouraging it. Would wonder ever cease? Snape sighed. He walked to his chamber slowly, thinking of how he could help his student, his young lover, who was currently having an emotional breakdown after his best friend was killed.
God, what could he do? The first time he tried to comfort Harry turned out to be abysmal. Harry did not want Snape to love him. The reason was clear: Harry was afraid to lose another person he loved.
Love. Was Albus mad when suggesting that he gave Harry love? What if Snape was being torn apart from Harry? It's not as if his position as a spy against the most cunning, cruel Dark Lord was the safest job on earth. If Snape happened to die, Harry would suffer even more than he did now. He would be alone. Black and Ron had died, Granger had been pulled out from Hogwarts by her parents a year ago, Dumbledore never saw Harry more than a tool. And Lupin had been lost to his grief over his mate's death.
Now, what to do? What could he give to Harry that would not hurt the hurting boy even more? He knew Harry needed strength to recover from his losses and kept on living. But what could he do that would not backfire if the war went on for worse?
"It is when you give yourself that you truly give."
Giving himself. To Harry. To most people, it means nothing more than sharing themselves to each other, being there when the other needs you, giving whatever they need, as long as they are alive.
But not to Snape, for he knew a way to give more than your life to someone. He knew how to keep being there even when he ceased breathing. He was always known for his vast knowledge in Dark Arts for good reasons.
But to do this.
Snape snorted to himself. He, a heartless bastard whose delight was in frightening students and witnessing his enemies' downfalls, giving himself to a seventeen year old boy who didn't even love him. What a laugh!
"All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of life's heart."
Ha ha. Right.
Snape opened the door to his chamber and found Harry was still sleeping. He curled up on the bed in fetal position; his hands were clutching the covers tightly, as if he was afraid to lose even the simplest kind of warmth.
Nothing was more painful than to witness this strong, audacious little twit became such a mess. Snape knew, it was not the physical pain caused by his continuous burning scar nor the countless Crucios Harry had ever got that caused the youth to suffer like this. It was the emotional pain of having those who loved you being ripped away one by one.
Snape sat on his bedside, running his fingers on Harry's tousled black hair. Love indeed. Snape smiled wryly, remembering of how he had gotten to this mess in first place.
*/`*/`*/`*/`*/`*
"Please, fuck me, Professor."
Snape looked at his student in surprise. "Have you gone mad, Potter?" He shoved Harry away hastily, too shocked even to sneer. He had *known* that giving this brat Scotch wasn't the wisest thing to do. But Snape did not know what else he could do to ease the boy's grief, especially since no one else was present in Hogwarts. It was midsummer and the castle was almost empty. Dumbledore and Minerva were busy, leaving Snape alone to deal with the grieving boy.
"Please…," the half drunken Harry pinned Snape to the sofa and rubbed his lean body against Snape's growing erection. Despite all his fierce principle, Snape was a male. And a male had a member who did not listen to reason or principle when it was being rubbed ferociously.
Still, Snape tried to resist. He pushed harder, sending Harry falling unceremoniously to the floor.
Harry got up fairly quickly, considering from the drunken state he was in, grabbed Snape's robe, and rubbed against Snape's body once again.
"Please, Professor. I know you hate me, and my dad, and Sirius. Don't you think fucking me is a satisfying revenge?"
"You are mad, Potter! No matter what grudges I hold against Potters and Black, there is no way I am gonna fuck you. Get away from me," Snape hissed threateningly. His heart was pounding madly. Dear Salazar, he had *tried* to restrain himself not to pounce on Harry for so long, as his unwanted desire to his nemesis' son which was growing rapidly ever since the boy reached majority and blossomed like a black rose in the midst of the Forbidden Forest. He had tried to suppress his desire by treating Harry even worse than before. Hell, he had even taken lovers who he didn't really love to avert the unwanted desire from Harry. Evidently, none of those worked. And now. And now, the boy was rubbing himself against him, fulfilling his secret dreams. And it felt so good. God!
Snape was lost to the feeling of Harry's mouth on his while Harry's hands seemed to be everywhere in the same time, rubbing, gripping, caressing.
"Yes. More. Oh, God," Harry moaned. Snape's mouth traveled to lick Harry's jaw line, savoring the salty taste of Harry's skin and sweat. And tears.
The realization hit Snape like a bucket of ice water.
He tried to pull away, but Harry's legs kept him.
"I can't do this."
"Why not?"
"I am your teacher and you're my student. I am not about to violate trust, especially not by taking advantage of you when you're distracted."
"Please, Snape."
"No!" Snape tried pull away again, but Harry's hands were gripping his body.
"Please," Harry blinked away some tears. "I need to forget."
Snape's resolve broke.
"Fine," Snape's voice was trembling slightly. "Let me get something first." He took his wand and cast some charms on himself and Harry.
After a long blissful climax, Snape came back to himself, holding Harry's limp body tightly, feeling strangely unhappy even though his wildest dreams had come true.
*/`*/`*/`*/`*/`*
That was when it all started. Harry would sneak into Snape's chamber in the middle of night and asked to be fucked. And Snape didn't have the heart to refuse. Part of him, which was glad that he could do something to ease the boy's pain no matter how unconventional the act was, was stronger than his conscience which kept berating him for breaking moral codes. And thus, their funny relationship continued, despite the uncomfortable feeling of guilt he constantly felt.
"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning."
Now this was the best way to put it.
Snape returned from his reminiscence when Harry stirred in his sleep. He looked at his sleeping lover and kissed Harry's forehead gently, feeling amazed of how he had never done this simple act although they had been fucking each other for almost a year. Harry moaned and opened his eyes slowly.
"Severus?" he blinked. Snape did not remember when exactly they started to call each other by their given name, but he was glad nonetheless that one of the barriers between them had been breached before this night. There would be a lot of trust needed.
"Yes, Harry." Snape kept stroking Harry's hair, marveled at its softness. Its texture was like rose petals, a black rose's petal. The main ingredient for a forbidden Love Potion.
"Why are you so nice today?"
"It's rather inappropriate to be acerbic while your lover is grieving, don't you think?" Snape smiled wryly.
"Yeah." Harry rubbed his forehead.
"Why don't you like me being nice anyway? I think that the whole population of Hogwarts would be *delighted* if they suddenly found me become nice and sweet like Lupin."
Harry kept rubbing his forehead. "I don't know. I supposed I am so used to you being….well, less than nice. Everything changes so quickly around me, and you suddenly changed too. I just wish that there is something in my life that doesn't change, stable, so that I can assure myself that I haven't gone insane, even if it means you continue being… well, Snapish. Not that I don't actually like you being nice, though," he added hastily.
Snape nodded, understood.
"I am sorry, about before. I freaked out. I am such a baby."
Snape stroked Harry's cheek gently and said, "Your reaction to your recent stresses is perfectly understandable. No need to be sorry."
Harry didn't answer. It felt so good to be loved like this. Still, he wouldn't able to bear it if he lost Severus too. He prayed silently, desperately, that the last comfort he had would not be taken away from him. Even though he had not planned to care for Severus when he first decided to sleep with his teacher, it happened anyway.
"Please, don't go," Harry murmured softly, knowing how futile his plea was.
"I will not leave you." Snape throat tightened. He realized the implication of this promise.
"But, what if Voldemort…" Harry stopped as Snape leaned down to kiss him gently.
"Do you trust me?" Snape asked.
"Yes." Without a doubt.
"I will not leave you, but you must trust me, and I you."
Harry nodded. "Good." Snape disrobed. Harry seemed to know where this was leading to so he discarded his pajamas as well. After both of them were naked, Snape lay down beside Harry and kissed his young lover, pouring out every love he had to his lover. He touched Harry gently, deeply, lovingly, slowly, enjoying Harry's skin on his, savoring every kiss, mapping the young body beside him with his tongue and hands, desperately memorizing everything, in case this was the last time he could touch and taste his beloved. Harry closed his eyes, letting Snape had his way, drowning in the gentleness that Snape bestowed upon him, wondering of what he had done to deserve such bliss.
"Please," Harry whimpered, feeling he could not take more pain of so much tenderness.
Snape took Harry's right hand with his own and chanted while he rocked back and forth within his lover's warmth. The ancient words flowed from his lips like a swirling velvety potion in a crystal vial. A pulse ran through his right hand from the shoulder to the tip of his fingers. He held Harry's hand tighter and felt the sensation flowed through Harry as well. He finished the last word and felt a strange change in his soul. The next thing he remembered was sensation of blinding ecstasy that flowed through him like a tidal wave. He felt like being lifted up by the wave only to fall again, being lifted up again, and fall again, and again and again until he reached the shore of consciousness.
He opened his eyes and looked at his curious lover.
"What did you do?"
Shifting so that he now lay beside Harry, Snape answered, "I bind myself to you. If something happens to me, if I die, I'll return to you as a ghost."
Harry's eyes widened. "So this is what you mean by not leaving me? You bind your afterlife with me?"
"Yes. This is a very Dark Art, of course. But we both know my reputation in this area, don't we?" Snape said dryly.
"You can't give me this." Harry said, shocked that someone, Snape, made this sacrifice for him.
"Don't worry, it's not like I'll enjoy singing hymns and wearing angel's wings in heaven anyway."
"What if… what if… I die?"
"This is only a one sided tie, you are not bound to me in any way. However, you are the one who had the power to sever the bond should you get bored with a ghost flying around you."
"Can I cut the bond while you're alive? What if I am the one who die?"
"You can cut the bond whenever you want. And if you die, you are not bound to return to me as a ghost, unless you have unfinished business, like any other ghosts. But please don't cut the bond now." You need me sounded arrogant, but it's too true, sadly.
Harry closed his eyes for a minute. "Okay." He never imagined that someone loved him enough to bind himself to Harry, even to the afterlife. God, how should he respond to this? At least Snape wasn't trading his life for Harry's. Besides, Harry could cut the bond anytime. And he would if Snape felt as miserable as Bloody Baron, in contrary to the cheerful, though annoying Peeves. In his condition now, Harry would gladly accept any company he could get, even a Peeve-ish Snape.
Snape exhaled. "We must get some rest." He cleaned both of them with a flick of his want, and rose from the bed, heading to the sofa to sleep. Funny that they had committed the most intimate act known to human beings, yet they had never actually slept together. But that's the way the world goes.
Harry gripped Snape hand. "Stay," he said earnestly. "You said you'll never leave me."
"Indeed," Snape raised his eyebrows in a very familiar way. "Though it doesn't mean that I will baby-sit a Gryffindor brat like you twenty four hours a day." But he conceded and lay beside his lover, kissing the dark hair, and wrapping his arm around Harry's waist.
Harry closed his eyes and snuggled closer. Perhaps the best way to show his gratitude was to accept the gift. As the Muggle poet said: "– assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives. Rather rise together with the giver of his gifts as on wings". Amusing himself with the mental image of Snape and him standing on clouds with halos, white wings, harps, and that trademarked scowl plastered on Snape's face, Harry fell into a peaceful sleep.
*finish*
When the hand of life is heavy;
And the night songless,
It is the time for love and trust.
And how light the hand of life becomes
And how songful the night, when one is loving and trusting all
*/`*/`*/`*/`*/`*
Notes: The quotations are by Khalil Gibran.
The black rose for love potion is an idea I take from Rhysenn's Irresistible Potion.
Thanks to Theresa Ann Wymer who beta-ed this.
Reviews are VERY appreciated. Please please, just push the blue button below if you enjoy this fic.