Caring for Severus Part II
That night, sleep eluded Severus. His erection had returned with a vengeance and would not quit. He'd thought of every vile memory he could to quell it-and the war had left him with a ready supply-but as soon as he let his mind drift, the problem would arise again.
As a person who had never been particularly over-indulgent in onanism-whose usual response to bodily need of any kind was that it was an inconvenience that distracted from his mental pursuits-he found the persistence of the problem deeply unfair. 'Mind over matter' may as well have been his own personal motto.
But no amount of self-discipline or meditation seemed to rectify the situation, so, he waited until he was absolutely certain Potter was asleep, then tried to solve said problem in the traditional way.
After an insufficient number of shaky strokes, he lost stamina, however, and it became apparent that he currently lacked the strength and dexterity to make the endeavour successful.
It was the early hours of the morning before he fell asleep, tossing and turning.
xxxx
Severus awoke much later to porridge, brown sugar, cream and half a cup of Earl Grey tea being levered over his bed.
'Morning.' Potter said, dragging a chair closer so he could sit down.
Severus flushed as he noticed his morning erection perk up at the familiar voice.
Sense memory flooded him as he recalled his frustrations of the night before: Potter touching him yesterday to apply the unguent.
And fuck, part of him was clearly hoping that it was about to happen again.
The sudden flux of conflicting feeling put Severus in a towering mood: "I see you cleverly chose another meal that requires fine motor function to consume. What was wrong with toast?" He barked.
Potter frowned. "Slept well, did you?"
Severus harrumphed.
Potter shrugged. "As it happens, I didn't choose your breakfast-Pomfrey told the elves to send up meals that would be easy for you to swallow."
This rather made sense, given the location of the snake bites, but Severus was enjoying sulking.
Potter sighed. "I can eat this, and order you some toast if you like?"
Severus gave a curt nod.
Potter went out to the fireplace-to speak to the house elves in the kitchens no doubt-and brought him in some triangles of toast and butter.
Severus' hand shook, but he mostly managed to get the toast into his mouth. Potter sat beside him, wolfed down the porridge, and then helped Severus drink his tea through a straw. It was undignified, but the toast crumbs were, in fact, a little scratchy on his throat, so he forebore and slurped away.
Potter cleared the tray, had him swig his daily dose of Vascular Repair Elixir, and took him for a trip to the loo. Then, to Severus' mixed relief and dismay, Potter made to return him to the bedroom rather than preparing a shower.
"I need to pop out for an hour or so this morning, so I thought we might do the rest of your bathroom routine this afternoon, if that's alright?"
Severus sniffed, "Fine."
His cock throbbed in confused disappointment.
"Is there a book I can set up for you to read? Hermione owled me a charm you can use to time-set the pages so they'll turn automatically."
"Perhaps A Chronicle Historie of Artes Magicale?" History seemed light and distracting enough, since Severus could do no work in this condition.
Potter quirked a brow, but said nothing, and came back over ten minutes later, but at least with the correct tome. He set it up on a heavy wooden stand-not unlike a music stand-that he must have conjured. Not bad work, but rustic-Hagrid would no doubt have approved.
"Now, I'll just be at the Ministry, so if there's anything you need-anything goes wrong at all-just call for Choo-Choo, and he'll come get me. He usually looks after Ravenclaw Tower, but while I'm out, he's agreed to look after you."
"Choo-Choo?"
"Yes, Headmaster Snape. I is being here." Choo-Choo had rather droopy ears and watery eyes, but he seemed quick enough to respond to Severus' call.
Severus nodded to the small elf. "Thank you, Choo-Choo, but that is no longer my correct form of address."
Choo-Choo squeaked. "I is sorry M-Master Snape! I is not knowing!" He looked like he dearly wanted to iron his knuckles.
Potter was giving him a strange look. "You know McGonagall is only acting Headmistress until you get better, right? She hasn't taken your job."
Severus rolled his eyes. "Don't be absurd, Potter! If anything, I took her job, albeit temporarily, and now it is restored."
"You don't want to be Headmaster?"
Severus glared. "I have neither the wish to oust Minerva from her rightful place in the pedagogical hierarchy, nor the desire to drive fearful students away from enrolling. Hogwarts will need support to rebuild."
Potter gave him a long, doubtful look. "Those don't seem like very self-interested sentiments, Professor."
Severus snorted. "Had I a Slytherin's true sense of self-preservation, I would never have accepted a position teaching in the first place."
"McGonagall will want to discuss this with you." Potter warned him.
Severus shrugged. "There is nothing to discuss. I only ever accepted the position as a ruse, and the need for that deception has passed. And Potter, no one who attended Hogwarts last year will remember my tenure fondly."
"You could be a good Headmaster though. For real, now." Potter pressed.
Severus frowned. He could not imagine why Potter should come to this conclusion, or, indeed, care one way or the other about Severus' career.
"Anyway," Potter sighed, "I'd better go. Enjoy your book."
xxxx
In the hours Potter was gone, Severus managed to read through several dry chapters on early figures in alchemy, grow weary of the tiny script, and, for want of better occupation, work himself up into irritation about Potter ducking out on his duties of care-the very next day after acquiring them, no less! Why had he even bothered to make such an unexpected offer of help—repeatedly-if he was just going to swan off and leave Severus in the care of a house elf?
Perhaps acquiring the task fed the whelp's perception of himself as heroic, and even now, he was telling his adoring public at the Ministry how he was spending his days at a sick man's bedside, mopping Severus' brow.
Severus absolutely loathed the sense of waiting upon Potter's return like a dog. He was tempted to try and shower himself, but soon found he could not persuade Choo-Choo to aid him until 'Master Potter' returned.
At ten past one, said master stumbled out of the floo, a plastic shopping bag gripped in one hand. "Sorry, sorry, I got away as quickly as I could. You must be hungry-would you prefer food first, or a trip to the lav?"
Severus was cool in reply, but let Potter call up some cold chicken legs for him, and some cheese and crackers, the latter of which managed to feed himself. Then Potter helped him to the bathroom, and then the shower, where he brandished said plastic bag.
"You bought me Muggle toiletries?" Severus asked sharply.
"The bar of soap was a bit hard to lather yesterday, and there were a few items I couldn't find." Potter blushed a little, and Severus eyed the bottle of shampoo he withdrew.
The little blot had bought a formula for extra oily hair.
Potter rolled up his sleeves and pushed the whole chair into the shower stream. He lathered up and rinsed out Severus' hair twice, and then applied a conditioner-something Severus had never bothered with himself. Having his hair washed by someone else felt rather nice. Potter used magic to dry him and the chair, but used a towel on his hair.
After changing the dressing on his neck, Potter once again withdrew the comb, which felt just as tingly and pleasant on his scalp as it had the day before.
Severus found it within himself to forgive Potter for having gone out, since he had obviously used the time to run errands for Severus' benefit as well. Perhaps he had been hasty in making assumptions.
But then, just when Severus' nerves had begun jangling as the massage approached, Potter dug about in his plastic bag, and brandished nail clippers and an emery board.
"What, exactly, do you plan to do with those?"
Potter rolled his eyes. "Your nails and toe-nails need a trim, Professor. Doubt Pomfrey had time to deal with things like that."
Severus blinked, as Potter held his hand firmly and began filing his nails smooth, a strangely determined work ethic about him. What next? Potter washing the feet of his apostles? Severus almost snorted aloud when, ten minutes later, Potter was gentle with his sensitive feet too, cleaning dirt from under nail ridges and clipping and filing efficiently.
It made him feel...strange. Not in the warm, indulgent way Potter's godforsaken massage made him feel strange. Or even the tingly way having his hair brushed felt strange. It was a little heartsore-Potter taking care of him. Buying Muggle products with him in mind- organic goat-milk soap with sandlewood, in fact-for something so frivolous as grooming. No one but Albus had dared to take care of his needs in any capacity for years-before then, only his mother.
Frankly, she had never been quite as interested in providing basic care for her son as she ought to have been, either.
Severus was less flattered when he noticed that Potter had also bought him whitening toothpaste. Impertinent brat! It was impossible to live a double-life for several years without developing a diet that was caffeine-dependent, so of course his teeth were bloody yellow.
Who gave a tinker's toss about his teeth anyway?
Apparently, Potter. He held a cup to Severus' mouth to take a sip of water, then cupped Severus' face in one hand, thumb wrapped around his cheekbone, and brushed his teeth and gums thoroughly with the other.
"Spit." He instructed, holding up the glass.
"That tasted unduly of bicarbonate soda." Severus replied.
Potter twitched a smile. "Do Potions Masters usually brew their own toothpaste, then?"
"Most house-hold products can be brewed, even by simpletons."
"Bet most of them taste worse than bicarb soda." Potter smirked.
"Traditionally, Wizards' toothpaste is flavoured with Clary Sage." Severus replied. He was hardly going to acquiesce the point that indeed, most other wizard cosmetics smelled and tasted bad. They worked, and that was the point.
Potter scratched the back of his neck. "Did you want me to pick up some of the traditional stuff then?"
In that moment, Severus noticed there were dark circles about Potter's eyes. Whatever they had wanted him for at the Ministry had obviously worn him out.
"Never mind, this is sufficient."
Potter began the massage, this time, with rubbing gentle circles of the unguent into his face. The sensation was so overwhelming that Severus had to close his eyes.
The lengthy massage that followed was warm and good, almost appallingly tender. For no reason Severus could properly understand, tears began pricking the underside of his eyelids.
He blinked them away.
He became terrified of the moment Potter would touch him private regions again, worried that somehow the intimacy would increase this strange need to sob. He occluded-and when that failed to de-mist his eyes, he called a halt to the proceedings-just as Potter was reaching an arm around him to lift him and massage his buttocks. The lightening charm had already been applied and the sensation of Potter's magic, and his chest against Severus' back, blended into the strange, needy vulnerability Severus was feeling.
"I...need a moment, Potter." He declared, just as a tear rolled down his cheek. He swiped at it with the heel of his shaking palm.
"Sir?" Potter stepped back, obviously confused. The youth could no doubt tell from the sound of his voice that an errant erection was not the problem this time.
"Just give me a moment."
Potter gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and popped into the living room.
Severus had to occlude with all his might in order not to sob. It was most bizarre-he was not a big crier at the worst of times, and here he was reacting to nothing at all!
He was beginning to wonder if he had been cursed-he'd been behaving so emotionally since Potter had taken him into his care. He would require more data to tell, however. He called Potter back, and the treatment with the unguent resumed. He squirmed, yes, as Potter brushed his sphincter, but with his eyes closed and his mind attuned, he realised the sensation he was responding to was the warmth wrapped around him-he was relishing being held in Potter's arm.
His gut roiled. Pathetic.
But then, when was the last time he had been held? Touched at all, before Potter and Poppy?
Maybe he had shaken hands? Not that he could recall.
Albus.
Albus had always had a habit of giving Severus a gentle squeeze on a shoulder-not unlike Potter had just done. Or placing a warm palm in the centre of his back to show him into a room.
Really, Albus had been the only one to touch him, willingly, for a good many years now. He'd never realised how much he'd needed it.
He cursed.
No doubt Albus had known.
And now? Would staying with Potter acclimate him to affectionate touch, only to plunge him into this sort of over-emotional madness when it was eventually taken away?
These humiliating realisations were punctured by Severus' awareness that Potter was finishing up his attention to his thigh and was about to move the towel.
"Can I go ahead, sir?" Potter asked.
Severus nodded. The fizzy warmth of the unguent was quite like a topical application of champagne. Potter petted and stretched his scrotum, following it back to the pubic mound behind, and the base of Severus' shaft. The damn thing was showing interest, of course, but Severus gritted his teeth-he just wanted the whole thing to be done.
Potter swirled his hand around efficiently, and Severus held in a groan as Potter replaced the towel and wiped his hands.
The physical aspect of the treatment may have been less mortifying than the day prior, but Severus was left feeling a little bit drunk and terribly aroused.
At least he'd managed not to burst into tears.
Potter gathered him up gently and put him to bed. Only, this time, he woke in the dark to find Potter rubbing at his shoulder.
"Professor-I think you were having a nightmare."
He had been. He'd dreamed of Charity Burbage, begging for his help, while he sat by and did nothing to stop that foul snake from eating her.
In the dream, her face, her voice had become Lily's for a moment.
Then, Nagini swallowed.
Potter was fumbling for his hand, slowly wrapping his own around it. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Severus' sharp black eyes sought green, then glared at their joined hands, detesting this further weakness being shared with the youth. But...Potter might understand. If anyone could understand.
In light of his revelations earlier that afternoon, Severus was especially aware of his continued need for human interaction. With Albus gone, and the war done, it might be wise to cultivate a few closer relationships.
And Potter, inexplicably, seemed to care.
Severus cleared his throat. "Some of it was memory, some of it, elaboration."
Potter gave a wry smile. "No one ever told me that. You know, that the more you see-it's not just the memories. It makes your imagination worse, too. More twisted."
"It does." Severus granted.
Potter snuffed a laugh. "Soul-sucking wraiths, giant spiders, a lake full of inferi, an eyeball in a locket...we'd clean up if we decided to write Muggle horror movies."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Harry Potter and the Legend of the Basilisk?"
"Har-har. No, if I was going to make a horror movie, it would be called "Godric's Hollow."
Potter blinked when he saw how pale Severus had gone. "No, sorry, no, not that story-I went there during the war, to Bathilda Bagshot's house. Friend of my parents, apparently. Poor woman was being...I don't know...possessed by Nagini. She was camped inside her skin, keeping her not-quite dead, hissing parseltongue at me..." Potter broke off and shuddered. "I've seen a lot of horrible things, but that one was just the most...wrong...you know?"
Severus gave a terse squeeze to the hand holding his.
"I know."
For the first time, it occurred to him that Potter might already get something back out of this seemingly-selfless arrangement.
Someone who understood.
"Come on," Potter said, helping him into the chair. "The elves brought dinner."
xxxx