CHAPTER 7
A/N: 'S not slash, I say.
...Ooh, ten reviews! Thank you!
"Ouch! What the—?"
"Potter, what is it now?" Snape had nearly dropped his book at Harry's exclamation.
Harry rolled up the sleeve of his left forearm. There was nothing to see. "My arm! It feels like it's…I don't know, burning!"
There was silence. Harry looked up to see that Snape's face had gone slack with shock. He lifted his own arm and copied Harry. The Dark Mark looked darker and uglier than Harry had thought, but what caught his attention was that the skin around it was red and inflamed.
Snape was striding out of the room. Harry followed him with some difficulty. His legs felt weak.
"Headmaster! I require your assistance!"
"Very well, Severus," said Dumbledore's head in the fireplace.
"Potter!" Harry wondered hazily why Snape had one of his arms around his waist and another gripping his shoulder, and then realized he was being half-carried to the couch. "Idiot boy! You are far too weak to be out of bed!"
Dumbledore stepped out of the Floo a few minutes later. "Why, good evening, Harry," he said. He was studying Harry very keenly. "It is good to see you better."
Harry shot a look at Snape, who had earlier denied that Dumbledore had been here. Snape wasn't looking at him.
"Well, Severus?" Was it Harry's imagination, or did he detect frostiness in Dumbledore's normally cheerful tones? "Whatever has happened so soon after this morning?"
Harry felt a rush of relief. Dumbledore had not abandoned him; he had been keeping a watch on them.
Snape explained that his Dark Mark was burning, and Harry had felt the pain instead of him. There was silence, and Dumbledore looked as surprised as Harry had ever seen him.
He began explaining, and this made Harry's head clear suddenly.
"What!" Harry said, forgetting himself momentarily. Snape glared at his lack of propriety.
Dumbledore looked less grave for the first time since the beginning of this business. "Yes, Harry," he said. A hint of the familiar twinkle had returned to his eyes. "You no longer see Professor Snape as an enemy. The opposite, in fact; and the Bond recognizes this. Consciously or not, you wish to make amends for your actions, and the Bond has given you a way to do so: by taking on his pain."
Harry ducked his head, trying not to blush at the approval in Dumbledore's voice. He hadn't realized that his feelings for Snape had changed so dramatically; in fact, he still couldn't believe it.
"That is all well and good." Harry cringed at the sneer in Snape's voice. Looking up through his lashes, he saw that Snape's face showed nothing but fury and revulsion. He cursed himself for the stab of hurt he felt—of course Snape would be disgusted by the idea of Harry trying to make amends. "But Potter will not survive the ordeal of taking on such a burden for a year, Headmaster."
Harry's mind flashed back to the memory of Snape collapsed on a chair, bleeding and trembling, too weak to reach his potions. His stomach churned at the thought of experiencing such injuries on a regular basis.
"I'm afraid there is no way out of it, Severus," Dumbledore was saying. He looked saddened by Snape's assessment. "Until we can find a way to break the Bond, it will extract from Harry what it feels necessary until there is a balance between the two of you."
Harry did not miss the pointed look Dumbledore gave Snape. Snape scowled in response. Harry cleared his throat. "It's all right, Professor," he addressed Dumbledore, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "I'll manage…it's the least I can do, anyway." Dumbledore's gaze was both compassionate and proud. Snape, by contrast, looked as though he had bitten into something sour.
"Professor!" Harry said, something alarming occurring to him. "You haven't answered Vol—his summons!"
To his utter shock, Snape blushed when Dumbledore smiled at the spy. "I believe Severus thought this new development required his immediate attention, more so than Voldemort himself."
Harry couldn't understand how this was cause for amusement. "B-but he'll be punished!" And since when was Harry's health more important than the duties of Order's top spy, anyway?
"I'll thank you to leave me to judge how I should do my job, Potter," Snape spat.
"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore soothed. "Harry's concern is admirable, and furthermore, perfectly justified."
Snape didn't seem to agree.
After saying goodnight, Dumbledore left through the Floo. Snape remained seated, glaring at Harry. Harry now felt like a fool when he remembered Dumbledore's words and his own ready acceptance. His 'saving-people thing' was making things even more difficult.
"I believe it is only fair," Snape said softly, "that you should know that your feelings are not real."
Harry looked at him in confusion.
"The Bond manipulates the feelings of its participants, Potter," Snape's voice had taken on a cold, lecturing quality. "Its purpose is to bring balance—a balance that you upset when you broke into a mind that neither trusts nor welcomes you. It will attempt to achieve this balance by bringing the participants to an understanding; or, barring that, through punishment. Apparently," here his lips twisted in a sneer, "it is finding your feelings easy to manipulate."
Harry swallowed. "What feelings? "
"Don't play coy, Mr Potter. I have been granted unlimited access into your mind, and I have observed your thoughts—"
"Wait, you can hear my thoughts?"
"Do not interrupt me," Snape said dangerously. "Your thoughts and feelings are open to me. I know that your pathetic, idealistic mind has led you to believe reconciliation is possible between us."
Harry clenched his fists and looked away from Snape's mocking face.
"This is another reason why you require Occlumency and control over your emotions. The Bond has found an easy target in your naïveté. I assure you, you will regret it."
"Do you think this was what my mother would have wanted?" Harry burst out. "You and I at odds all the time?"
Snape sprang out of his seat, his eyes blazing. "What have I told you about personal comments, Potter?" he hissed.
The familiar pain returned in waves. Harry doubled over, groaning.
"Potter," Snape called. "Get up."
Harry obeyed, knowing by now that it was useless to resist. "I know you'll think I'm saying this because of the bond... or to make my own life easier as a slave," he said, struggling to keep his voice even and his posture upright, "but I don't want to be your enemy, sir."
Snape's expression grew scornful in addition to angry. "More fool you. Come here, Potter."
Harry had bent over and was resting his hands on his knees. "Come where?" he asked.
Snape let out a frustrated sound. "What did I tell you about the master's touch?" He strode forward and grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him upright. "Do you feel the difference?"
"Yeah, less pain." But not by much, Harry thought, screwing his face up.
"Because of the contact," Snape sounded faintly disgusted now. "The more the contact, the less your pain."
Harry stared at the man as his meaning sunk in. "Oh," he said.
Snape looked back at him impassively.
"But you'd hate—you just said—you don't have to do that," Harry said disjointedly, letting out another moan of pain. Snape's grip on his arm was the only thing keeping him upright by now.
Snape actually sighed. Mild astonishment broke through Harry's haze of suffering. "Come here, Potter," he said again, sounding uncomfortable now.
Harry sent him apologetic glance and stepped closer. A sudden suspicion seized him as to whether this was all a cruel trick.
Snape's arms reached around him and pulled him to his black-clad chest. Harry instantly relaxed against him, much to his own surprise. The disappearance of the pain was probably the reason, he told himself. Snape's hair tickled his neck, and suddenly Harry felt the strangest feeling of safety and warmth wash over him. Mrs. Weasley had been the only one who had ever held him like this before. Harry realized that the bond was probably making him feel like this, that it wasn't real, like Snape had said; and that he should probably pull away soon…
Snape's fingers ran up his spine. For some reason, the contact made Harry shudder. His breath caught. He suddenly became very aware of the arms encircling him, and the man he was leaning against and the hands on his back.
"My, Potter," said the silken voice. "Are you so starved for affection that you would cling to the first person who offers some semblance of it?"
A blush of anger and mortification crept up Harry's neck as he realized he had been doing just that—clinging. He hurriedly stepped back, releasing Snape just as the man let go of him.
"Lesson one in emotional manipulation of magical origin, Mr. Potter," Snape mocked. "When your enemy's embrace feels like a haven to you, sit up and take notice."
Harry looked away from Snape's eyes, feeling helpless and rather pathetic. He hadn't wanted the hug to stop; he still wanted it. Snape was right.
"Let the universe take note," Snape drawled. "A Potter has admitted that a Snape was right."
Would you please get out of my head? Harry directed his thoughts at Snape deliberately this time.
"I have every right to everything inside your head, Potter… no matter how little that may turn out to be."
Harry had had enough. I'm sorry you had to do that, sir. You needn't do it again. He knelt reluctantly. Dominus.
"You'll have to say that last bit out loud, Potter."
Harry resisted the urge to grit his teeth as he obeyed. A sensation similar to fingers ghosting on his neck made him shiver. Snape's face was as impassive as ever.
"You may leave, Potter."
The next morning found Harry sitting at Snape's feet, beginning on the absurdly large number of lines he'd been assigned as punishment.
1. I will never again attempt obscure magic without adult supervision. In addition, I will respect others' privacy. I will not be a law unto myself, particularly while dealing with those in authority over me. I will give my teachers the respect they are due.
2. I will never again attempt obscure magic without adult supervision. In addition, I will respect others' privacy. I will not be a law unto myself, particularly while dealing with those in authority over me. I will give my teachers the respect they are due.
3. I will never again attempt obscure magic…
Ten thousand times. Harry suddenly had a vision of hurling his inkpot at the man sitting above him. Sadistic, blind autocrat.
Only, Harry was beginning to doubt that now. Harry had sat at the table to do his lines, only to nearly collapse onto the table when the pain hit. Before Harry had even had time to process what was going on, he had found himself in Snape's arms, blinking dazedly as the pain lifted. Snape had dashed over from his side of the table the second he had sensed Harry's pain across their mental bond.
One of its few benefits, Harry thought, forcefully pushing away the thought of how good the hug had felt. And the compassion that he thought he'd seen on Snape's face.
"What did I do wrong this time?" Harry had asked tiredly.
"The Bond does not allow you to sit at the same level as I," Snape had replied, surprisingly without rancor. "The slave has to sit lower. Which is why I ask you to sit on the floor."
"So it's part of the rules? You didn't make that up?" His voice had come out smaller than he'd intended. He'd noticed Snape hadn't let go of him though he had to know Harry's pain had receded.
"I did not," Snape had replied softly.
…I will give my teachers the respect they are due.
11. I will never again attempt magic without adult supervision. In addition, I will respect…
Part of Harry didn't want to trust this softer side of Snape. (Harry almost snorted out loud. Snape? Soft? The Bond must be driving him insane!) The rest of him didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Harry sat up straight suddenly. If the purpose of the bond was to promote understanding, like Snape had said, could the Bond be affecting him, too? He opened his mouth to ask.
"Shut up, Harry."
"I didn't even say anything!"
Snape looked decidedly less than soft now. "You were thinking rather loudly," he snapped.
"Well, I can't help that," Harry grumbled, looking away from the man's angry gaze.
"As a matter of fact, you can," Snape said. "Which is why I am training you."
Harry perked up. "Occlumency will help me keep you out?"
"…No." Snape didn't look pleased about that. "But it will give you some control."
Harry realized why he looked so peeved. "You can't keep me out," he said slowly. "Even with Occlumency?"
The scowl and the silence were answer enough.
"Cheer up, Professor," Harry said, grinning. "It's better than having V—ol' Snake Face in your head."
Snape's face twitched for a second, he was certain of it. "So certain of that, are you, Harry?"
Harry blinked. "You've been calling me Ha—ow!" he gripped his forearm. Looking up, he saw that the faint trace of amusement on Snape's face had been wiped away. "Speak of the devil," he muttered.
"Indeed," Snape said, standing up and rushing out. He was back in a minute, holding three vials in his hands. "You are to take these in order," he whipped out his wand and the numbers 1,2 and 3 appeared on the vials, "if you experience pain in my absence."
He was gone before Harry could thank him.
