Co-written with Stormypup
Disclaimer: A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.
A/N: Beta'd by Rakina
Chapter Thirteen
Harry glared up at the dark shadow that fell across his face. He had been lying out in the Mid-August sun, something he had precious little time to do now. It had been two weeks since they had found Hufflepuff's cup and it was now stowed away in a cabinet in Snape's house under lock and key. No one was going to get to it unless they were betrayed and since Snape's secret keeper wasn't dead there was little chance of them being revealed.
It was the warmest it had been in a long time and Harry had wanted to take full advantage of it. So right after breakfast he had headed out into the tiny area of grass that Snape called a garden.
He shaded his face against the sun, and squinted up at the tall figure before him.
"Good morning," he greeted, sitting up and rolling his shoulders.
"It's time," Snape said, turning on his heel and walking back towards the house.
Harry sighed. Right. Snape had been teaching him spells he would never learn at Hogwarts, spells that were his only chance against Voldemort and his followers. Sometimes Draco was there, but more often than not, he and Snape were alone.
Harry got to his feet and with a last wistful view of the outdoors, he followed Snape inside to the room they had been using to train in. The walls were bare and the paper was brittle and peeling. Harry had yet to figure out what its original color had been. The ceiling was dotted with water spots, spots Harry had become quite familiar with as more often than not he ended up on his back, staring at that ceiling.
Wand in hand, he entered the room behind Snape and was immediately forced to throw up a protection spell as Snape began shooting various spells at him.
"Stop blocking, Potter!" Snape snarled, throwing a cutting hex at Harry's shield. Harry was thrown back by the impact but managed to keep the shield in place. They had been going at it for a good hour now and sweat was beading on his forehead and dripping down his nose. His glasses had slipped off and fallen to the floor about twenty minutes ago, the gentle tinkle of glass telling him he wouldn't be seeing anything even if he spent the few seconds to pick them up.
"It seems to be working just fine thanks," Harry said in a clipped tone, both his hands clenched around his wand in his attempt to keep the shield intact. He knew that the second Snape threw an Unforgivable at him the shield would fail. It happened each and every time.
Snape growled and cast the Cruciatus curse, forcing Harry to drop his shield and roll out of the way. He stayed still on the ground breathing heavily, his tee-shirt clinging to his back and stomach uncomfortably.
"Get up."
"No."
"Damn it, Potter! The Dark Lord will not allow you time to catch your breath! Get up!" he snarled, sending another hex Harry's way.
Harry dove to the side and rolled to his feet, sending a curse at Snape as he did so. It was perhaps the first time in two weeks that he had surprised Snape. His slicing hex had got through, slicing across Snape's side.
Harry's eyes widened at Snape's gasp. "Shit, are you okay?" he started to ask, but Snape was already casting another spell, forcing Harry to get his shields back up.
Twenty minutes later, Snape called a cease fire. Harry watched as the man stumbled into the wall clutching at his side.
"You are hurt," Harry stated, annoyed.
"Obviously," Snape said. "Thank you for pointing that out," Snape said, lifting up his shirt to examine the wound. His side was covered in blood and the slices in his skin were still dripping. "Well done," he said, looking at Harry with something resembling humor.
Harry blinked owlishly and went to Snape's side. He glanced up at the older man waiting for permission. His wand was held loosely in his fingers as he imagined gathering his magic inwards. This was a skill he had only just started to learn how to use, but it was becoming his favorite. Medi-wizardry was fairly hard to learn and even harder to teach, but Snape had insisted upon it. Until now, Harry had never really had a chance to try it on another person. He was normally the one who got cut up.
"Don't mess it up, Potter. I wouldn't want it to scar," he said sarcastically. He had more scars on his body than he cared to count. They were just one more reminder of his choices in life. As if the Dark Mark wasn't enough.
Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He waved his wand over the cut slowly, calculatingly, before pushing the bottled-up magic forward with the intent to heal. He could feel his magic funnel through to his hand and out into his wand, causing it to vibrate in distress. Harry's eyes flew open and locked with Snape's in shock and concern.
"Was it supposed to do that?" he asked, voice trembling.
"Ease up on the magic," Snape said. "The wound looks worse than it is and you're forcing too much magic into healing it. Pull back," he said, keeping his voice low. He was afraid if he raised his voice and startled the boy, he'd end up regretting the action.
Harry nodded, focusing solely on himself and the wound. It was already healed over and Harry didn't want to think of what could happen if the healing magic continued. His entire frame was trembling as he tried to pull back.
"Help," he murmured, his eyes squeezed tight. It was all he could do to continue to hold on to his wand.
Snape had closed his eyes when he felt the skin knitting together, feeling the warmth spreading across his skin. Harry's faint plea had his eyes opening in an instant.
He reached out and wrapped a hand around the hand Harry had clenched around his wand, steadying him. "It's done, Potter, let it go," he said, putting steel into his voice, but Harry couldn't seem to break the connection.
"Potter! Look at me!" Snape snapped, and Harry opened his eyes, locking with Snape in panic. "Let it go," Snape said, and though he said it quietly, the implied order was unmistakable.
"How?"
"Break the connection," Snape said, forcing the wand point away from his side. "On the count of three," he said, trying to give Harry something else to focus on. "One...two...three!" he said loudly.
Harry hissed as he finally managed to pull his magic back sharply, his wand fell from his limp fingers as a consequence and he slumped against Snape's side breathing heavily.
Snape supported Harry to the nearest wall and watched as he slid to the floor, pulling up his knees and resting his head against them.
"Had that ever happened before?" Snape asked, frowning.
"No," he croaked, grabbing the back of his head in frustration.
Snape looked at him, speculatively, the wheels in his mind turning. He had felt the raw power practically radiating off of Harry when he was being healed. He began to wonder if Potter had ever tapped into that particular magical store. And if not, just how deep did it run and how powerful was it?
"I'm sorry," Harry muttered into his knees.
"I think we're done for today," Snape said, nudging Harry with his foot. "Get up, Potter."
Harry leaned back against the wall and stared up at Snape, his eyes were red and puffy and if it weren't for the look on his face one would have thought he had been crying.
Snape frowned down at Harry. "I believe the wall is capable of holding itself up, Potter," he said, having reached his limit of coddling. "We'll work on your occlumency after we've eaten lunch."
Harry groaned and slammed his head against the wall. He heard Snape snort as he stood up shakily.
"You suck," he muttered, not even looking up at him.
"You wound me, Potter. Alas, my secret is out," he said, rolling his eyes as Harry steadied himself. When he was fairly certain the brat wasn't going to collapse he turned and began walking from the room. "I most definitely do suck," he said, turning his head long enough to smirk at Harry before he left the room.
Harry stared after him gaping. Did he really? Had Snape really just make a joke? Harry had to fight the grin that was overtaking his entire face. He followed after Snape with this new bit of knowledge. Although, if Snape had laughed, Harry would probably have to wash out his brain.
They ate a simple lunch of soup and sandwiches, and Harry knew better than to stuff himself. If he did, he'd just be wanting to retch by the time he and Snape were done. The look of the disgust he'd got from Snape the last time he had vomited was not a look he ever wanted to see again.
"Have you had any visions?" Snape asked, as he always did over lunch.
"No, not today." Harry pushed his spoon around the soup bowl careful to not slosh any over the edge.
"I wish I knew what he was planning," Snape said, frustrated that he was stuck in a position of knowing absolutely nothing of the Dark Lord's plans. "Things have been relatively quiet, and that worries me," he said, staring into his soup bowl.
Outside of their little cocoon, the war was still waging against Voldemort and his assorted minions, but it was sporadic thus far. The longer they waited to move against Voldemort, the more concerned Snape became about missing something important.
"No new deaths in the Prophet today then?"
"No, and I'm cut off from all of my old contacts...for either side," Snape said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I think it's time you contact the Order and get what information out of them that you can," Snape said, looking at Harry from across the table.
Harry froze and his face paled. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"No, but I think it's inevitable at this point. We need information before we can do anything. I can't train you forever. Even you must realize that time is running out for all of us," Snape said, his dark eyes meeting Harry's across the table.
Harry nodded sullenly. "Whatever you want," he mumbled, breaking the stare.
"Had you only been this agreeable as a student," Snape said, arching his brow and smirking at Harry over his teacup.
"Shut it," Harry mumbled, mortified to note the blush creeping up his own neck.
Snape nearly snorted aloud as Harry began to flush. In the not so distant past an insult such as that would have had Potter throwing a fit. Now he just shrugged it off, or even smiled. It was disconcerting to say the least, but he was finding himself enjoying Potter's company.
The boy had been working hard, doing everything Snape asked of him. Oh, there was bitching and moaning, but he did as he was asked. They had at least one big blowout a day, but once they both vented, things continued on as usual. Snape was feeling almost...comfortable around him.
He hadn't the slightest idea that he had been staring at Harry until the boy cleared his throat.
Harry had to stifle the laughter at the stunned look that passed Snape's face before it cleared entirely. He wished he knew what was wrong with himself. Just a month or two ago, Snape staring at him would have made him want to retch but now he found he didn't mind it at all. There was no animosity in Snape's absent gaze, he was just pensive. Harry couldn't quite label the feeling he got from knowing Snape trusted him just enough to let his guard down. It seemed almost impossible in theory, but here he was trying to dissect just that. Snape never let his guard down, even when seriously injured, and here they were just eating a casual lunch.
And it wasn't like Snape was the only one staring. Harry had found himself stealing glances at Snape all week. He had come to expect him trudging down the stairs in the morning grouchy as hell and had learned how to prepare his tea just so. It was the little things that were pressing upon Harry's mind. How had he grown so accustomed to a man he would have sworn he hated just a few months back? Logically it could just be their forced time together, but now the idea of going to see the Order filled him with dread and he couldn't be sure if it was because they would smother him and lock him away or if it was because he would be leaving Snape here with Malfoy. Snape had been right though, they were effectively cut off from any true source of information by staying here and seeing how Snape couldn't leave the house with both sides on the look out for him, it really only left him.
A sick sense of dread curled into his stomach as he realized the enormity of what this meant. His going back would mean he had accepted the inevitable and he wasn't sure he'd be able to fight if Snape wasn't there to be his task master. He clenched his cold soup bowl in both hands and met Snape's stare head on.
As if reading his mind, Snape said, "You can handle the Order, Potter. You've been cooped up here with me for weeks and survived relatively unscathed; hexes, curses, jinxes and invasions of the mind notwithstanding," he said, shrugging as if that was all of little consequence.
"Yes, but what do I say to them?"
"Well, you're going to have to explain where you've been the last few weeks for one," Snape said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "I think, for the sake of keeping things simple and keeping them out of our hair, you need to tell them that the Horcruxes have been destroyed. All of them save Nagini," he said, looking at Harry intently, wondering if he would really lie to his friends.
Harry nodded in thought. "But would they believe me? I'm only one person and not even Dumbledore could survive destroying one."
"True," Snape said, tapping a finger on his lower lip. "I'd go with you, but I'm not sure I'd live to walk past the threshold. Perhaps not the Order then," Snape thought for a moment. "The Burrow," he finally said. "The Weasleys will know anything we need to know, and while they'll smother you," Snape said as he thought of Molly's mothering, "it may be less stressful then facing the whole Order alone."
"Especially Moody," Harry muttered with a dark tone. He drummed his fingers on the cold bowl and frowned. "All right. I'll go. Just...don't leave here."
Snape was surprised that Potter needed reassurance, from him of all people. "Where would I go?" he asked, looking at Harry as if he were daft. "Learn what you can then leave," he said, shrugging.
"Thank you, I will." Harry stretched back in his chair. "When do you want me to leave?"
"Tomorrow morning will be soon enough. You look like hell," Snape said, looking closely at Harry. There was bruising, and he had dark circles under his eyes. "They're going to think you've been abused," Snape added, narrowing his eyes.
Harry did laugh at that. "Mrs. Weasley is going to hit the roof when she sees me. It's bad enough she vaguely knows the details of my home life and already thinks I need coddling. If I look shitty enough for even you to mention it, I won't be allowed out of her sight for days."
"Better you than me," Snape said, raising his teacup in a mock toast. "You'll take Dreamless Sleep tonight, and I'll give you something to lighten the bruising. Perhaps Molly will let you leave her sight long enough to return."
Harry grinned and nodded, folding his arms across his chest. The thought of no nightmares that night sounded especially good at that moment. "Merlin I hope so, I love Mrs. Weasley, but she can be a little overbearing."
"She tried to mother me once," Snape said, a strange smile on his face. "She did not make that mistake twice," he said, his eyes meeting Harry's in amusement.
Harry's laughter echoed through the kitchen as he tried to imagine Mrs. Weasley forcing Snape to eat tons of food then make sure he got enough sleep. And to his own credit the sight of Snape smiling didn't make him feel the need to gouge out his eyeballs either.
"No Occlumency today I think," Snape said, wanting to research Harry's odd reaction to his magic today. "With my luck, you'd end up running into a wall and giving yourself a brain injury. Not that anyone would notice, but still," Snape said, getting to his feet.
"Git," Harry snickered, following suit, trying to ignore the content feeling he was getting from this conversation.
"Greasy git," Snape corrected as he turned to leave the room. "You're slipping, Potter," he shot back over his shoulder, heading for his meager library.
"Smarmy git is more correct," Harry called out after the older man, trying to fight the smile off his face. What the hell was he doing? Snape wasn't his friend. Snape wasn't anything. But he couldn't ignore the fact that even talking to Snape made him smile now. Shit, if he spent much more time with the man who knew what would happen.
"Potter."
Harry's smile vanished and he turned to face the other way out of the tiny kitchen. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"I live here, I can go where I want," Draco said petulantly. Snape was always sending him away, telling him to go and read or make a potion that usually ended up inside Potter.
Malfoy was not happy. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He didn't feel any sympathy for the blond but he certainly pitied him and he was certain if Malfoy knew that he'd hate him more for it.
"Sorry," he said without much feeling behind it.
"I don't need your 'sorry', Potter," Draco spat, insulted. "Just stay out of my way," he warned, brushing past Harry on the way to find something to eat. Where's a damned house elf when you need one?
Harry watched him and rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Malfoy was as uncomfortable in this kitchen as Harry would be in the Slytherin common room.
"Or you'll do what?" he asked. Really, how could he resist this chance to bait Malfoy?
"Turn you over to the Dark Lord," Draco said spitefully. He was bluffing, but if it would make Potter squirm, so much the better.
"And just how do you propose to get me there when you don't even have your wand anymore?"
Draco whirled on Harry, glaring. "I'm not completely helpless, Potter and it would be best if you remember that," Draco hissed. "I have friends in high places these days."
"And who might those be, Mister Malfoy?" Snape asked walking into the kitchen, book in hand.
Draco spun on his heels, facing Snape, eyes wide.
"He was threatening me!" Draco said, pointing at Harry.
Snape shook his head then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do not act like a first year, Draco. It is beneath you," he added, forcing Draco to meet his gaze. "Do not forget out little chat, Draco, and remember that Potter is under my protection. Any harm that comes to him will be revisited upon you ten-fold," Snape said, his voice dark and dangerous.
"But sir -"
"No!" Snape snapped. "This is over. Now," Snape said, looking between the two boys who were still glaring at one another. He sighed. "Go and do something," he said, waving a hand in the air. He filled his teacup and exited the room, leaving the two young men to sort it out.
Draco's lip curled in disdain. "Stay out of my way," he said, pushing past Harry and going to his room.
"Gladly," Harry muttered at Draco's retreating back.
At something of a loss, as his afternoon was suddenly free, Harry made his way to the small room full of books. Snape had called it a library, but there weren't that many books. There was a large stack on the desk and a bookshelf full of obviously old texts.
Bored, Harry began scanning titles, hoping to find something remotely interesting, or perhaps a spellbook. Maybe he could surprise Snape the next time they dueled. A title caught his eye and curious, he pulled the book down from the shelf. It was entitled, The Wizard's Guide to Wizards. Shrugging, he carried the book to the one uncomfortable chair, and sat down. He knew if Snape showed up, he'd have to vacate the chair. But he didn't mind. If the book was at all interesting, he planned to take it out in the sun to read.
Leaning back in the chair and tossing one leg over the armrest, he settled the book on his lap and opened it to a random page. With a gasp, he shut it just as quickly, his eyes widening. This was no a book about famous wizards.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry took a deep breath and opened the book again at random. This time, there were only words, no moving pictures of...well no moving pictures for which he was grateful. He scanned over the text.
"…and with the proper angle, as illustrated on page 33, one can see the advantages of this position. The wizard on top is able to penetrate his partner in a way to bring about maximum pleasure. As the penis begins to brush against the prostate..."
Harry slammed the book shut, and looked around the room feeling guilty. Snape had sex books? And not just any sex books, but books about two men...well, doing it? His face was flushed and he could feel the blush to the tips of his ears. He had to put it back before Snape realized he had been looking at it. The man would probably kill him.
This idea warred with his desire to see what exactly was illustrated on page 33. They talked about sex in the dormitories of course; it was bound to happen in a room full of hormonal teens. But they didn't talk about this. Harry was fairly certain that Dean was gay, but never gave it much thought. He was straight and that's all there was to it. It was the stress of last year that had made him hold back on having anything remotely resembling sex with Ginny. His lack of desire in that department was just the result of his hellish sixth year.
Glancing around the room, Harry thumbed through the pages, paying more attention the pictures than he would ever admit, until he came to page 33. There was a man on his knees, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the bed. He turned his head and gave Harry a wink. Harry gave a weak smile, his blush overtaking him once again. The other was a well-toned man kneeling behind the first, his hands on the other man's hips as he began to thrust in and out of the first man. He wanted to close the book. He needed to close the book, but the looks on the faces of the two men had him enthralled. It was a look nothing short of bliss. The man on top had his head thrown back, and the man on bottom was beginning to push back against every thrust in earnest.
Harry wanted to close the book, but he also wanted to see how it ended, to see how their faces looked at the moment of climax. He was fascinated. The moment he realized that he was becoming aroused by it all, he slammed the book shut, and stared blankly ahead.
"Too much for your delicate sensibilities, Potter?"
Harry nearly fell out of the chair. Snape was leaning against the doorjamb, tea in one hand, which he was calmly sipping, and a book in the other.
"How long have you been there?" Harry asked, irritated to hear his voice had a slight tremor to it. He looked down to see his hands were shaking as well.
"Long enough it seems," Snape said, studying Harry through lowered lashes. The boy was flushed, his eyes bright. Something had certainly affected him.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," Snape said, coming into the room and trading the book in his hand for one on the desk, "though you are in my library," he pointed out. "No matter. I shall be in my room, try not to blow anything up or kill Malfoy," he said smirking at Harry. He let his eyes travel to the book on the floor at Harry's feet, then back up to his eyes. He cocked his head to the side and studied Harry for a moment.
"Return it to the shelf when you have finished," was all that he said before leaving the room.
Harry stared at the vacant doorframe before picking up the book with trembling fingers. Snape hadn't even yelled at him for touching his property. It was as if the man hadn't cared at all. He moved across the room and replaced the book where he found it, trying to brush off the lingering arousal. It meant nothing other than the fact that he hadn't had a good wank in a long time and anything would have aroused him.
He was still trying to reason with himself as he crawled into bed early that night after a very awkward dinner. Tomorrow morning he was off to the Weasley's and he had to be ready to go back to the real world.