1Title: Sehnen Nach Der Dunkelheit
Author: Gold-Snitcher
Chapter Two: Falling into Darkness
Pairing: SS/HP
Harry wasn't sure what the spell his keepers used on him was, but it left him with a profound disinclination to do much of anything. He had thus formed a resolve to stay moving, deciding that any hope of salvation lay in his will.
So Harry paced his cell, cautious to avoid the puddles where his illness had solidified into a sticky, tacky substance. He thought about why he was there, and what purpose this strange form of torture could serve. He ate, since food was brought to him regularly, though Harry had never seen anyone bringing it into his cell.
Then his keepers would return and it all began again.
Thus a pattern was set for what was at the very least fourteen days.
Visits from his keepers became more frequent.
More days passed and Harry began to lose interest in his meager supply of food. He lived on water and nibbles of extras. The only variation in each day lay in the food that appeared in his cell and the thoughts that occupied him.
At first, Harry occupied himself with mental gymnastics, running through spells, curses, anti-curses, potions recipes; but this lasted for only a few days. After that, his thoughts became increasingly disjointed.
There were days when Harry forgot that he was a wizard. Forgot that he had magic, forgot that there were likely strong wards on his cell that prevented him from using it.
There were days when Harry forgot about Hogwarts and his friends. Days when Harry could not at all understand why these people would be interested in a muggle boy - days when he could not recall Voldemort or Death Eaters, or the Order of the Phoenix are any of that. But these days were few, and oddly, it was the meager meals left for him and the spell that was cast on him that would recall him from his bouts of delirium.
Most days Harry spent his time lost in memory.
Harry remembered his fight with Voldemort, or walking into the Great Hall for the very first time, or the intense pride he had felt when Severus had complimented his potion in one of their after-class meetings.
He thought mostly of Severus.
Stripped of everything, most especially his self-delusion, Harry became aware, almost painfully, that he was in love with the man.
In that moment, his image of romanticism burst. He recalled their last real interaction before things became awkward and tentative, and this new knowledge only seemed to increase Harry's sense of despair.
Harry wasn't certain where the idea had come from. At best, he could only hypothesize that it had been brewing in the back of his mind since Albus had first suggested the need for them to overcome their irritation with the other in order to aid the Order.
It had taken time, and they had often fallen back into old habits, but realizations and small epiphanies had made understanding the other easier. Not to mention the odd quirks in behavior which they found that they shared: they were rabidly independent, both of them impatient with lesser minds, both complete unconventionalists.
Much sooner than anyone within the Order could have anticipated, Severus Snape and Harry Potter were a highly effective team, and surprisingly good friends. But, for Harry, it had slowly become more than that.
Vibrations in the wall again, and Harry pressed his hand against the rock, hoping that he was mistaken.
He wasn't.
Slowly, Harry climbed from his makeshift bed and tensed his muscles. The least he could do was put up a small fight before they cast the subduing spell on him.
The door opened.
Bright light, dark cloaks, strong hands and two spells that Harry knew now, knew so well he wondered if they would come to him as easily as wingardium leviosa. One to cease his struggles; the other to flood him with agony.
And then ecstasy.
Harry lay on the ground, shivering with release and gasping in breath from the shock of the quick transition of sensation. It became more and more overwhelming each time.
He closed his eyes and slept.
"I don't see what the fuss is about," Harry said as he was very carefully settled onto a bed in the familiar hospital wing of Hogwarts. "Honestly, I'm fine," he insisted. "Is this my same bed?" he asked. He had grown quite fond of his bed in the hospital wing, firmly believing that it was less lumpy than the others.
"Mr. Potter," but Madame Pomfrey couldn't finish because again Harry was wracked with the astounding pain as he experienced Voldemort's rage, and the effects of the cruciatus that the dark wizard was casting. Harry felt a warm wetness spreading over his face and could vaguely hear panicked shouts before he slipped into unconsciousness.
Harry awoke to the feel of fingers in his hair. He was about to start purring at the pleasant sensation when the headache set in and instead he moaned. "Welcome back, Potter," said a familiar soft and dark voice, and Harry squinted his eyes opened and made an attempt at a smile.
"Sev," Harry greeted quietly. ''lo," he said as the dark haired man gently hefted him into a sitting position, propping pillows behind his back.
"Drink," Severus ordered as he held a vial to Harry's lips. Harry obeyed without question or complaint, because it was Severus. Immediately, the pain in his head retreated.
"It
wasn't you, was it?" Harry asked. No need to specify what he was
asking, they both knew.
"No," Severus said, and again Harry felt the hand run over his hair, smoothing it out. Severus brushed it out of his eyes and Harry saw tenderness in the potions masters' eyes. "I was unharmed this time."
Harry nodded vaguely, scanning the hospital room as if noticing it for the first time. It was dark, as it was nighttime, and it was empty. On the night stand by Harry's bed, there was a lamp which was lit softly, and several various vials, one bowl of reddish water, and a cloth that was covered in what Harry determined was blood.
Seeing his shock, Severus answered, "Your scar split open. Poppy had quite a time staunching the blood flow, and you were given several replenishing potions. You should be fine, barring a slight fatigue."
"Did he say anything?" Harry asked. "I didn't have a vision. I wasn't even asleep. It happened in the middle of dinner," Harry explained.
"His usual ravings, nothing very useful except a vague thought of storming Hogwarts or Diagon Alley. The Order, of course, will begin strengthening the defense of both of these."
Harry's eyes were drifting shut again. "Hey," he said, vaguely accusatory despite his growing exhaustion. "You tricked me," he said as it became increasingly difficult to stay awake.
"Not
quite. It was a headache cure. You are, as usual, being contrary
again," Severus said, referring to the varying effects that potions
had on Harry's system.
Harry sighed, too tired to say anything else, and fell asleep to the feel of that hand again, stroking through his hair.
Harry's thoughts were continuously interrupted by spells and sleep and an ever-increasing befuddlement.
He had taken to making a small pile of chips of stone to keep track of each time he had been struck with the spell.
When his pile had reached forty, Harry became aware of a new element in the cycle – anticipation.
After a day or two, it digressed into restlessness.
And then, distressingly, Harry began acting in eagerness, standing by the door to greet his keepers.
………………………..
Harry shuddered violently as the door slid closed, after-shocks from the spell still racing through his system and he tried to recover his breath. He realized that it had been a very long time since he had felt any pain at the onslaught of the spell.
He couldn't move, that much was made obvious when he tried to and his world, though completely black, spun awkwardly and he was forced to cling to the floor lest he fall off the edge of the world. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, but his thoughts were inexorably drawn to Severus and the fight …
……..
"I knew I would find you here," Harry said triumphantly as he entered the lab and shut the door behind him.
"A brilliant deduction, Mr. Potter. Where else would I have been?" Severus drawled. He did not look up from the potion he was stirring, but Harry didn't mind.
Harry had had a breakthrough that morning in creating the spell that would track Death Eaters through their mark. Of course, it required the help of his connection via his scar, and it was tiring, since there was no mid-link because Voldemort was dead, but still, it was better than nothing. Harry, feeling proud of his accomplishment, had decided a break was in order, and had left his loft in London and set out to track down Severus.
The last he had heard, Severus had been working at Malfoy Manor on a stronger version of veritaserum, since it had been discovered that some of the Death Eaters had ways to thwart it. Draco had offered his manor because it was so strongly warded that Severus would be able to work uninterrupted by Death Eaters out for revenge against the traitor.
"How is it coming? A breakthrough yet?" he asked, settling down on a workbench and watching Severus stir his creation.
"It is a suitable color and has not yet exploded," Severus answered.
"Well, that's promising, anyway," Harry said. "I've finished the tracking spell. It still requires the link from my scar to it, but I'm almost certain it will work. I tested it in small scale and could sense Pettigrew," Harry said with a grin. Peter Pettigrew had been caught, and was currently being held at the Ministry of Magic. Since the Ministry was in London, not too far from Harry's loft, he had thought it would be the best place to test. He didn't want to overtax himself, at least, Severus had come up with some really evil descriptions of what he would do to Harry should he overtax himself, and Harry was almost certain that the dark haired man had meant every last one.
"Do you need help?" Harry offered.
"Not at present," Severus dismissed the offer, meeting Harry's eyes fleetingly. Harry knew that something was wrong, Severus was certainly acting off, but he was loath to press the man lest he aggravate the situation. "This small breakthrough warranted your coming all this way. That eager to have your progress noted?" Severus asked.
"No," Harry said, frowning at this harsh comment. "I just wanted a break. It's been ages since we had any time to talk and I thought I'd come and see you. See if you needed help." He fidgeted, because there was something else that had drawn him there as well, but he was not so foolish to speak it aloud.
"And it had nothing to do with a certain pressing question which you had finally worked up the nerve to ask?" Severus drawled. He stopped stirring and removed the stirring rod, cleaning it on a piece of cloth and watching Harry with a dark look.
"What? I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry snapped.
"Truly?" Severus asked wryly. "Not so very Gryffindor at all, then."
"I came to visit with you and to see if you needed any help," Harry clarified, feeling oddly raw and nervous.
"Perhaps a further encouragement?" Severus questioned. "It was only a matter of time, after all, before you're overly romanticized self began to think of such things."
"What?" Harry asked, he was backing up and Severus prowled forward. "Sev, I don't…" but he did, and he hated it. Hated having Severus talk to him like this.
Harry felt, suddenly, as if the past several years had never happened. As if he were still that hopeless eleven-year-old who had, for some unknown reason, gained the hatred of his potions master. He suddenly didn't feel like the seventeen year old that he was, powerful as he was heralded to be. He had defeated Voldemort after all, but somehow, looking at Severus who seemed oddly angry and frustrated, Harry didn't feel like he had any power at all.
"And what do you picture for us, Harry?" he snapped. "After you have us bonded, likely under Albus' fond eye, what then? A honeymoon in Paris? Long walks, hand-in-hand, on the beach? You must know by now that I am certainly far from a romantic fool. So what is it, then? Is it the sex? What do you imagine?" Severus asked.
Suddenly, Harry's back was against a wall and he was breathing rapidly. Severus stepped forward and planted a hand on either side of Harry, effectively trapping him. "Surely you realize that it has been a very long time for me? Do you imagine yourself awakening the need in me?" Severus purred.
"Severus, stop this," Harry demanded, his voice sounding surprisingly calm and authoritative given the situation. Because Harry had imagined such things, hadn't he? And now he felt so incredibly foolish for even thinking, for even a moment … but then, Severus was different around him. He treated Harry in a way he treated no one else, not even Draco. Was it his fault that he had dared to imagine?
"You have our lives planned out for us, don't you?" Severus demanded in a lethal purr. "Did you even stop to think how woefully inappropriate it all is?" Severus snapped.
"Severus, let me go," Harry pleaded, somehow becoming frantic. He knew, he knew all of this, but that didn't mean that thinking about it was wrong.
Harry could still imagine anything he wanted, dammit! He began to panic when Severus did not step back, and, in a moment of anger at this man who he had trusted, Harry let himself go wild.
He heard footsteps coming down the hall towards the lab, and Harry struck. He lashed out with his foot, kicking in Severus' knee and, as he stumbled back, he shoved the man's upper body away. At that moment, the door to the lab opened and Draco stepped in, his welcoming smile turning into a frown at the sight, and Harry didn't wait to hear any of the excuses, he bolted. Shoved straight passed Draco and ignored the blonde's startled call.
…..
That had happened at the beginning of August, not long after his seventeenth birthday. He hadn't seen Severus for any prolonged period of time since then, a few fleeting glimpses of him when they had been at an Order meeting together, but Harry had left quickly after that, not wanting to speak with the man. Not sure how he felt. And besides several awkward conversations, in which Severus, admittedly, appeared tentative and oddly apologetic, and Harry could still not bring himself to relax, there had been nothing, nothing that even parodied their interactions before.
Harry had been on the train to start his final year at Hogwarts and face the Potions Master, but it didn't matter anymore, because now Harry was here. Alone. In the dark. And he wondered if Severus was even looking for him.
……………………
Harry found that there was a third state between the sweet horror of the poison flooding his being and his body's craving for the next state of grace. When the spell ebbed, for a few moments, Harry was granted peace; a brief moment of respite.
It became very clear that whatever the spell was, its affects on him were more long-term than he had at first been willing to believe. He began to make a conscious effort to return to himself.
Harry ran through memories of past chess matches with Ron, and some even with Severus, remembering games that he had lost, or won, and strategizing and re-strategizing to change the outcome of the match. He paced often, and recited lists of charms, though he was still unable to make use of his magic.
……………………..
Seventy-three chips were in place, and a fierce restlessness for the seventy-fourth had set in. Harry occupied himself by sweeping debris with a rubbery boiled egg that he had not been eating when he became aware of a more unusual movement above him.
Harry dropped the egg and stumbled over to the wall, pressing his hand into it and leaning close. Vibrations in the stone meant footsteps, so he had learned.
The steps were distant but quick. Some emergency had hit whatever faction of Death Eaters he had been taken captive by. Harry turned to the door, or where he surmised the door to be since it was still camouflaged, and pressed his ear to it when he heard the heavy fall of boots.
Were they coming to kill him? Had the time finally come?
Harry refused to be killed without a fight. He dove to his little reed bed where he stashed some larger rocks and scooped them up. He heard bolts sliding on the door, a familiar sound, and he was stunned to find a part of him conditioned to feel excitement, since the sound of the bolts usually preceded the spell.
Harry clamped down on the anticipation and focused, this wasn't the spell coming for him; this was death!
The door began to open slowly, but Harry was prepared for anything and braced himself. "Potter?"
And suddenly Harry's breath congealed in his throat.
"Potter, are you here?" Harry's mouth worked but he couldn't produce a sound. "Merlin, they've taken him," said the voice, sounding hoarse with despair. "Fetch the aurors and bring them here!" the voice yelled, and Harry managed to jolt himself out of his shock.
"Snape?" His paltry store of defense rattled down around Harry's toes as he dropped them.
"Potter! Are you alright?" Severus asked. "I can't see you."
"I – I don't think you want to," Harry said, but, with an arm raised to shield his eyes from the brightness, he shuffled further towards Severus.
Harry was shaking and dirty and gaunt. Severus stepped forward quickly, but Harry was startled and he retreated slightly.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Severus said with mild exasperation in his tone. Still, when Severus moved to examine Harry again, he moved slower. "Merlin," Severus whispered as he traced something on Harry's wrist.
The moment was interrupted by the sound of more boots hitting hard against the stone floors. Severus looked piercingly at Harry before he turned around to face whoever was on the other side of the door. "The aurors will not be necessary, I have found him. Summon a healer immediately," Severus said and a moment later, the footsteps retreated.
Severus hesitated before turning back and looking at Harry. Harry did not see the odd expression on his friend and professor's face because he had just become aware of something that he had not noticed before. On his arms, Harry could make-out strange markings, like ancient Celtic designs or something of the like, done in faint red.
As Harry squinted closer, he realized that the markings were not painted on; they had been carved into his body. Vaguely, Harry noted that some of the markings looked familiar, but he could not place them. Following the marks, Harry realized they covered the entire front of his body, and likely marred his back as well.
"What?" he asked, dazedly, and Severus placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him when he weaved. Harry was having difficulty processing the events that had just occurred. He had been prepared for his death, however determined he had bee to fight it. And now, here was Severus, the man he had realized he loved, the man who he had fought with, the man he had been avoiding like the plague prior to this mess.
Harry stepped back. After a moment of simply staring at each other, Severus sighed. "I will go and fetch you some clothes. Will you be alright?" he asked, his voice sounding soft and wonderful to Harry's ears.
"Just don't – just leave the door open, please," Harry requested.
"Of course," Severus said, before he turned around and exited the cell.
When Severus returned, Harry was huddled just inside his cell. Harry was relieved that the man refrained from commenting on it and instead handed him a set of clothes - pants and a shirt - both of which seemed to be too big for Harry, but it was better than his now-ratty boxers.
"They were you captor's," Severus explained. "I could not find anything else quite yet." Harry put the clothes on. It was a curious intimacy, to be wearing his captor's clothes. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about it, but he was relieved to have a barrier between his body and the world, somehow he was a little less vulnerable now.
"Come," Severus said, and Harry followed him out of the cell.
Their progress was slow, as Harry stumbled along beside Severus and the man shortened his steps in order to accommodate Harry. Severus guided him out of the small cellar and up a tight winding staircase without ever touching him, but his presence at Harry's side was comforting.
"There are aurors here," Severus explained. "They wish you to identify the men who were captured. Can you do this now?" Severus asked. Harry nodded, and Severus guided him over to a tightly packed group of aurors. They were standing over four men who had each been petrified.
"Were these men responsible for your capture, Mr. Potter?" one of the aurors asked.
Harry looked at each of the captives closely. "Yes, but there was also one other. He came on the train," Harry said.
"Do you remember what he looked like?" the auror questioned. Harry wracked his memory. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he was able to recall enough information to give a fair description.
When he had finished, Severus chased the Aurors away and led Harry into a fairly large side-room.
Harry made his way directly to the window, placing his hands on the sill and, nervously, as if the world might suddenly disappear, turn dark and cold, he leaned forward and peered outside.
It was overwhelming, the light and the color. Disorienting in its brightness, but it was a welcome sensation to Harry, and he stared out at the world, relishing the sight of it.
After a moment, Severus walked over to his side and after glancing at him, leaned over and opened the window. Harry closed his eyes as a gust of cool autumn hair blew passed him. He savored the sensation and the smell, opening his eyes again and noticing that the leaves had fallen from the trees already and lay like fire, licking at the trunks of the trees and burning up the grass.
"How long?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse. When he had been taken, school had been just about to start, the leaves were still green with life.
"Seven weeks," Severus answered, and Harry didn't know what to say. It had felt like so much longer. He had wondered, for a brief moment when Severus had gone to fetch him clothes, if his hair was grey with age, if that was why he felt stiff and achy. Seven weeks didn't seem like much at all. Little over a month. Seven weeks of darkness, of isolation, of his captors and their they're brutal hands, of the Spell, of disorientation, unknowing and uncertainty.
Severus returned with a cup of tea that he placed into Harry's hands, and then snatched it back when it threatened to tumble out the window. He returned to the server, spooned several large cubes of sugar into it, and then handed it back to Harry.
Harry sipped the tea obediently, but could not stomach the sight of the biscuits and sandwiches Severus was offering, and said as much.
After his second cup of tea, Harry settled into a large armchair, and tucked his feet up beneath him. He felt a wave of exhaustion flooding him as he became more accustomed to his freedom and the adrenaline that had been fueling him from the moment he had felt the vibrations in wall began to finally wear off.
"The healer is here. She will do what she can for the warding," Severus said.
"Warding?" Harry asked, feeling very confused and expecting to wake up any moment now, curled on his little reed bed. Now that he had regained his freedom, he kept expecting it to be snatched back.
Severus simply stared at him piercingly, his eyes momentarily flicking to Harry's chest. Looking down at the carvings on his body, Harry realized that this was the reason the symbols were familiar; these were wards.
Harry had never once heard of wards being cut into the flesh of a wizard. Wards were created to stave off magic, cutting into the flesh of an inherently magical being would be excruciating, but Harry was only vaguely aware of a general ache in his body.
"The Aurors will want to interview you. No one is quite certain what happened to you," Severus continued, sitting down opposite Harry.
"Hm," was Harry's only answer. He was beginning to shiver as the cold set into him, and Severus noted this with a frown but before he could speak there was a gently knock on the door.
Harry stared at the carvings on his arms while Severus answered the door. He was barely aware of a quiet conversation, but he made not attempt to follow it. He was a mess of bruises that he could not recall the cause of. He had fought and struggled often with his captors, but with it still seemed like an inordinate amount of purple and greenish splotches. Still, Harry supposed his captors had been inordinately large men, who had not shied away from sound smack when he pushed them too far, which he made a point of doing every now and again. It had become one way for him to maintain control; he knew exactly what he could do to prompt a certain reaction from his captors. It was, perhaps, not the best thing he could have done to remind himself that he still had some power of his world, but it was the only thing that he really did have control over at the time.
His musings were interrupted as a woman with dark-blond hair pulled into a long braid knelt in front of him. She had a warm smile and bright blue eyes. "Hello, my name is Lethis. I'm going to heal you now, is that all right?" she asked. Harry simply nodded his head and allowed her to coax him into lying on the sofa.
Healer Lethis was quite skilled at her craft, and though Harry was certain he should be feeling jittery around strangers, he felt quite relaxed around the young witch. She worked quickly and smoothly, her touch light and gentle, and Harry drifted in and out of sleep as she worked.
The next time he woke, he was startled by the absence of pain in his body. It was such a foreign sensation, to be well, and only now did Harry realize that what he had identified as a mild ache throughout his body had been such an intense pain. He felt more aware and alert and he realized the pain was likely dulling his senses.
A cup of tea was held before him and Harry struggled to sit up before he accepted it. Severus settled back into the chair. There was no sign of Healer Lethis.
"The warding has been removed but Healer Lethis thought it advisable to let you rest. There will be some scarring likely, but none of the wounds were infected. There were some other afflictions that she was unable to heal." Again that intense look, and Harry wondered why Severus was looking like him like that. "Of course, she is unable to mention anything because it would be in violation of the oath she took as a healer, but she went ahead and took another blood oath to you anyway."
"She what?" Harry asked, completely confused. He knew about blood oaths. Depending on the oath she took, Healer Lethis might have pledged herself to be Harry's slave, inducted him into her family, or any other of the strange things you could promise under a blood oath; but regardless what she swore, it was an unbreakable vow.
"She will not speak of your ailments to anyone, which will be most helpful," Severus said. Harry wondered why secrecy was so important.
"I don't understand," Harry admitted, feeling a bit foolish. "Why would she do that?"
Again the look crossed the other man's face. As much as Harry enjoyed having Severus back, he was starting to hate that look. "No, I don't suppose you do," Severus said after a moment. "No one knows what you endured while held captive by the Death Eaters, but I am quite familiar with the results of this particular spell. And Lethis simply confirmed my suspicions. It was a German incantation, yes?" Severus asked, and Harry nodded, frowning.
"Sehnen Nach Der Dunkelheit," Severus said. "Roughly translated, it means: To crave the darkness." Severus was silent as Harry let this sink in. "There will be time to speak of this later, right now, I think a bath is in order."
Harry did not look up from his cup as Severus went into a room off of the one he was sitting in. He heard the sound of water running, and smelt an oddly floral smell before Severus emerged. "Come," he said.
Harry set his cup down with unsteady hands and obediently entered the room Severus had exited, noting the tub that had been liberally filled with bubble bath. "Will you be alright?" Severus asked.
"Don't lock the door," Harry said, not looking away from the bath. He waited until he heard the door close behind him and then he peeled off the clothes and sank into the blissful warmth of the water.
He scrubbed his body furiously, washing his hair several times. He scraped under his fingernails until the skin was tender and there was no trace of the grit that had clotted there. He scrubbed until he felt like Lady Macbeth, scrubbing away the dirt that had long been washed off.
Still, Harry had no desire to leave the warmth of the tub. He sat quietly, unwilling to admit that he did not want to face the aurors and the questions that were likely to come. Not wanting to admit that he felt like screaming and begging for someone to cast the Spell, that it felt like he could not breathe.
He heard the door in the other room open and could make-out several voices in conversation, then Severus' snappish bark rising about the others, followed by silence, and then the opening and closing of the door.
A moment later, there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Are you quite finished lollygagging in there? Or do you harbor some secret desire to become a fish?"
Harry managed a small smile at the comment and convinced himself that he couldn't hide from reality forever. Slowly, he hefted himself from the bath and dried off and put on his clothes, before draining the tub and stepping out to the other room.
Severus was pacing, though he did not appear openly agitated. "Fudge has arrived, unfortunately, and insisted on interrogating your captors. I'm afraid they are claiming that you cast the spell upon yourself. That they even made an attempt to stop you and removed your wand, but that you continued casting it with the use of your wandless magic."
"That's rubbish!" Harry snarled, wanting to hit something very hard.
"Calm down," Severus said. "Of course it is rubbish. But the spell is notorious for taking its time in turning a wizard, especially a wizard with magic as Light as yours. There will be some concern about how easy it was for you to become addicted so quickly."
Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to rant and rave, and hit something, and kick it, too. He was furious at the unfairness of all of this. After all that he had done, defeating the bloody dark lord! And where the hell was the Ministry, then? And now, after all he had endured! And it was just bloody obvious that it had been the damn Order that was responsible for finding him, and here the stupid Ministry was, here to arrest him for something he could not help! Unjustly and ridiculously and ungratefully arresting him because he had reacted to torture in a mode that wasn't expected.
Before Harry could voice his anger, he heard the words, spoken in a voice he had never expected to hear these words spoken by, and again the wave of pain hit him, only Harry barely felt the pain anymore, focusing instead on the ecstasy which quickly followed. And he shivered and almost dropped to his knees, clutching the table for support.
He stood there for a moment, breathing shakily, with his eyes closed, and when he opened them there was almost a sad look in those dark eyes that Harry did not understand. "You will appear more steady, now," Severus explained, before he draped his robe around Harry's shoulders.
"You could have warned me," Harry snapped, though there was no bite in his words, he was still rapped in the bliss.
"You will do none of the talking, is that clear?" Severus asked, and Harry nodded weakly before his wrist was snatched in a vice like grip and Severus dragged him out of the room.
TBC
Thanks so much to those who reviewed. And double thanks to Miss Assassin who emailed me about my mistake in my German, and to those who (very politely, to my surprise) offered to help. I'm sorry for my error; I'm using a measly German/English dictionary and did my best. Thanks again, everyone!
