CHAPTER 22

On the day after Christmas, Severus studied Harry's sketch for a long time as he sat in the library. It was a postcard-morning; more snow had fallen during the night, and two of the students who were remaining at Hogwarts over the holidays had gone out into the grounds for a battle of snowballs. Harry and Severus were comfortably tucked away in the dungeons. Severus bent over the sketch. Harry had caught the angles of his face, the length of his tapering fingers, the atmosphere of the setting very well. It was a sketch, but there were details which surprised him – a tendril of hair brushing his right cheek, the glimmer of blackness underneath his lowered eyelid, the shading of his haughty nose…His sharp profile seemed to contrast with the softness of the gentle light which illuminated him, his book and the sofa on which he was sitting in the picture. He turned his attention to Harry's signature. A simple H and a P followed by the day, month and year, scribbled discreetly in a corner. He had been very pleasantly surprised by Harry's gift. Or rather, that Harry had got him something at all. He had treated him miserably for his birthday, after all. Severus actually felt his cheeks grow warm with shame. They became even warmer because it was simply not like Severus Snape to have a bad conscience concerning Harry Potter's birthday, especially when taking into account that he had wished several times that the brat had never been born…except that he no longer felt that way about him. In fact, his quarters seemed much homelier with Harry occupying them... Severus frowned and put the sketch away.

Later, when they had lunch together, Severus watched Harry broodingly. Harry was happy that they were starting to have their meals together and was eating with good appetite. Severus, on the other hand, was wondering why Voldemort had to target a blooming young man like Harry Potter. Severus thought of the night they had consummated their blood bond. Seeing Harry lying on his bed with his lower body bare, exposed and struggling to hide his terror at being forced into such sudden and unwelcome intimacy. Severus had told him to lie down on his stomach so that neither of them would have to bear the added torture of having to avoid each other's eyes or look at each other's faces. Severus had seen the way his fingers had been clenched throughout the act, digging into the pillow. His face darkened. Then that choked sob when it was over. What if he had done things differently? Spoken more reassuringly to Harry? Touched his shoulder or hand in order to calm him? Or would that have made things worse? Maybe Harry would have recoiled from his touch. Their relationship had been extremely unpleasant at first, to say the least. If Harry managed to live through all the huge obstacles and challenges which were still awaiting him, would he be able to fall in love after his forced union with Severus? Severus had a cynical and scathing view of love; he had decided ages ago that he was not meant to love or be loved. Harry was attractive in many ways. And he, Severus, had ruined his first sexual experience for him. And broken his arm, too. And Harry had just the same gone and bought him an expensive cloak. He had hugged him as well. Severus could not remember ever being hugged. Dumbledore had squeezed his shoulders at the very most – that was all he had known about friendly physical gestures until Harry had hugged him. He could still feel Harry's unruly hair tickling his cheek and his arms around his neck. He could still see the sparkle in his green eyes. And that smile. Harry liked to smile. He sometimes smiled when he was sketching, probably without being aware of it. It was a dreamy smile which made Severus wonder what was going through Harry's mind. Eyes and lips like a green and red tourmaline, Severus mused.

Harry excused himself, got up and went over to the sideboard to fetch a tangerine. Severus followed him with his eyes.

"Would you like a tangerine?" Harry asked him.

"Yes, please," Severus answered.

"Catch," Harry said, raising his hand.

"I don't appreciate food being thrown around in our quarters."

"You're just saying that because you don't want to miss," Harry said shrewdly.

Severus's eyes narrowed.

"Aim properly," he growled.

The tangerine flew towards him in a graceful arc. Severus managed to catch it, but the fruit slid out of his fingers and into his lap.

"Ha! Missed!" Harry said.

"Your aim is atrocious. Thank goodness you're no longer on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team," Severus grumbled.

"Trying to save face, aren't you?" Harry said nonchalantly as Severus picked up the tangerine, peeling it deftly with his long fingers. He replied to Harry's teasing question with a snort.

Harry's mouth quirked, and he went back to the table. They ate their tangerines in comfortable silence.

"What would you like to do on your birthday?" Harry asked suddenly.

Severus looked at him expressionlessly.

"Why are you asking? It is Christmas season, not my birthday, in case you have not consulted the calendar as yet."

"It will soon be your birthday. So what would you like to do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Severus repeated tersely, transferring the tangerine peels to the wastepaper basket with a non-verbal spell and pointing gesture with his left hand.

"What about New Year?" Harry asked persistently.

"I do not believe in countdowns, Champaign and all that clichéd nonsense," Severus answered in a bored tone, "and I am amazed that you still haven't realised that I am not fond of social gatherings."

If Severus had hoped that he would spent an uneventful 31st December, then he was mistaken. The Weasley twins sent Harry a lot of New Year gags – and Voldemort chose the afternoon to summon him via the Dark Mark.

Severus immediately got ready and put on his cloak – the one Harry had given him – and turned to look at his husband's face.

The green eyes were grave and worried behind the spectacles.

"Take care of yourself," the youth said.

"Haven't I always done that?" Severus said, but his tone was without sarcasm; it was even gentle. Harry didn't respond, merely continuing to gaze at him. Severus placed his hand briefly on the messy hair before leaving.

Fortunately, Harry didn't have to wait for as long as last time. Severus was back within half an hour. Harry was nevertheless shocked; Severue was extremely pale, and he brushed past Harry without a world, heading for the bathroom. He came out with water on his lips. He was still ghastly pale.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

Severus stared at him glacially.

"I am perfectly fine with supplying scenarios where I am raping my husband many times while the Dark Lord masturbates mentally, seeing as that he is incapable of doing so physically."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, placing his hand on Severus's.

"What for?"

"For making you go through all this."

"It is my job."

"Suffering like this shouldn't be your job," Harry said.

Severus stared into Harry's green eyes.

"Tell me. What did you feel like when we consummated our blood bond? Don't tell me that you didn't feel like you were being raped. That you don't hold it against me, or don't want to see me suffer-"

Harry interrupted Severus by taking his hands in his. Severus fell silent.

"What did you feel like?" he asked softly. "We discussed this once. We were forced to do it."

"And I took away something very personal from you. You could not decide to whom to give it to. You had to give it to me, against your will."

"Severus…" Harry squeezed Severus's hands gently. "I knew that it was expected of me and of you. We said yes to the marriage and to the bonding. We could have backed out. Things were very different back then between us. We couldn't talk like we're talking now. It was easy for me to accuse you of forcing me, especially since…well…you were on top. It wasn't your fault."

He flushed, and the dark eyes searched his green ones again. Why on earth did the young man have to be so innocent and so perceptive sometimes?

"Severus, do you feel guilty?"

Severus nodded curtly. It was a hard admission to make, a big step to reveal part of his feelings to Harry.

"I felt guilty, you know. Once I had calmed down and spoken with Hermione, I often thought of what you must have felt during the consummation," Harry confessed.

"You were lying on my bed, only seventeen years old," Severus said flatly, "completely exposed. I had to…take you. Like you were a piece of meat. I hated myself and I hated you. But you had to be the determined Gryffindor you are, didn't you?"

He pressed Harry's hands.

"You wouldn't give up. You refused to stay away from me. We match each other in determination, Harry."

"In other things, too," Harry said. They gazed at each other.

"Were you drawing?" Severus inquired finally.

"How did you know?"

"You have got charcoal on your nose," Severus said.

Harry laughed and rubbed at his nose.

"No, over here. Wait," Severus said exasperatedly, rubbing at the corner of Harry's nose until the mark had gone.

"Thank you, Severus. I'm enjoying your gift, as you can see."

"There is no need to try and paint your face. Your natural charms are quite sufficient," Severus murmured, retiring to the sofa while Harry blushed again.

---